It is a week later, and the village is now stirred to its depth. Such gaieties! Such gaddings to and fro! Such wonderful tales of what Lady Forster wore and Sir William said, and how Miss Prior looked. Gossip is flowing freely, delightfully, and Miss Ricketty, whose shop is a general meeting-place, is doing a roaring business in buns and biscuits. The Park, in fact, is full of guests. ‘Every corner,’ says Miss Blake to Mrs. Hennessy, in a mysterious whisper, ‘is full to overflowing. I hear that some of the servants have to be accommodated outside the house, and that Mr. Crosby has painted and papered and done up the loft over the stables in the latest Parisian style for the maids and valets.’ ‘My dear!’ says Mrs. Hennessy, in an awful tone—very justly shocked; then, ‘You forget yourself, Maria!’ ‘Faith I did,’ says Miss Blake, bursting into an irrepressible giggle. ‘Law, how funny y’are! But they’re safely divided, I’m told, one at one side o’ the yard, the other at this, as it were. Like the High churches we hear of in England. The goats and the sheep—ha, ha!’ ‘But where are the maids?’ ‘Over the stables at the western side, some of them.’ ‘You don’t say so!’ says Mrs. Hennessy. ‘Bless me, but they wouldn’t like—you know, the—er—the atmosphere!’ ‘Oh, there’s ways of doing away with that too,’ says Miss Blake, with a knowing air. ‘But you’ll come in for a cup of tea, won’t you? Jane’s dyin’ to have a chat with you.’ Miss Blake is hardly to be trusted in matters such as these, her imagination being extraordinarily strong. And, indeed, the idea of those stables rose alone from her great mind. But although there are still corners in the splendid old Hall to let, it must be confessed that it is pretty full at present. Guests at the Park! Such a thing had not been heard of for many years. Not for the last eight years, at all events. Then Crosby, who was about twenty-five, came home from Thibet, and his sister Katherine, who was quite a girl—being six years his junior—had been brought over from England by her aunt to freshen up her old love for him, and to stay with him for his birthday. Not longer. The birthday came off within the week of their arriving. Lady Melland was a woman of Society, who hated earwigs, and early birds, and baa-lambs, and insisted on bringing quite a big company ‘on tour’ with her on this re-introduction of the brother to the sister, and had organized a distinct rout at the Hall during her memorable stay. It had created a fearful, if pleasurable, impression at the time, and people are beginning now to wonder in this little village if Lady Forster will be a worthy representative of her aunt. Or if perchance the aunt will again take up the deal; for Lady Melland has, they say, come here with her.