Ted's round eyes became solemn. He was gazing into the future, leaning forward, a stout hand on each stout knee. "Teddy shall go to Eton," he said, "and I shall put him in the Guards." A week later Ted took us down by motor to see Kenstone. It was too far for us to return the same day, so he engaged rooms for us in the village inn. His "buyer" was to meet him, and advise him as to what part of the contents of the house he should offer to take over by private treaty before the sale. On a gleaming day in late September we sped along the lovely Essex lanes, between the pale harvested fields. "There's the forest," shouted Ted, leaning back from his seat in front, and pointing to a long ridge of trees which seemed to stretch to the low horizon beyond the open fields. "When we're over the bridge we're on the--the property," yelled Ted. We lurched over the bridge, and presently the forest came along the water's edge to meet us, and we turned sharply through an open gateway into a private road. Such trees I had never seen. They stood in stately groups of birch and oak and pine with broad glades of grass and yellowing bracken between them. "Ancient deer park once," shouted Ted. "Shall be again." Essie paid little attention to him. We had made a very early start, and she was tired. She leaned back in the car with half closed eyes. The trees retreated on each side of the road, and the wonderful old house came suddenly into sight, standing above its long terrace with its stone balustrade. Ted gave a sort of yelp. "Oh Essie!" I cried. "Look--look! It's perfect." She gazed languidly for a moment, and then she sat up suddenly, and her face changed. She stared wildly at the house, and put out her hands as if to ward it off. The car sped up to the arched doorway, with its coat of arms cut in grey stone, and Ted leaped out and rushed up the low steps to the bell. "Not here! Not here!" gasped Essie, clinging to the car. "I can't live here." She was trembling violently. "Dear Essie," I said amazed, "we can't remain in the car. Pull yourself together, and even if you don't like the place don't hurt Ted's feelings by showing it." She looked at me like one dazed, and inured to obedience got out, and we followed Ted into the house. We found ourselves in a large square hall. She groaned and leaned against the wall. "I can't bear it," she whispered to me. "It's no use, I can't bear it." "A glass of water, quick," I said to Ted, who turned beaming to us expecting a chorus of admiration. "Essie is overtired." "What is the matter?" I said to her as he hurried away. "What's wrong with this exquisite place?" "It's the house I come to at night," she said brokenly. "The dream house. I knew it directly I saw it. Look! There's the minstrels' gallery." I could only stare at her amazed. Kind Ted hurried back, splashing an overfull tumbler of water as he came, on the polished oak floor.