The handsome little pair of cobs shook their heads, and started off at a rapid trot, the groom catching the side of the phaeton as it passed him, and mounting beside his master in the seat behind; when the brisk, sweet, summer air seemed to bring a little colour into the cheeks of Arthur Prayle, and a great deal into those of Lady Scarlett, as she guided the spirited little pair along the dusty road, and then in between the long stretches of fir-wood, whence came delicious warm breathings of that lemony aromatic scent of the growing pines brought forth by the mid-day sun. "There, my lad, that's better than sitting in chambers," cried Scarlett. "Fellows pooh-pooh me for living out here. It is living, my boy. It's dying, to shut yourself up in town." "Ah, yes," said Prayle with a sigh; "it is very delicious." "Delicious I should think it is," cried Scarlett eagerly; and he stood up behind his wife, holding on by the back seat, as fine and manly a specimen of humanity as could be found in a day's march. He was fashionably dressed, tightly buttoned up, and had the orthodox flower in his button-hole; but his bronzed face and fresh look told of country-life; and down in Berkshire, the staid solemnity of his London ways was cast aside for a buoyant youthfulness that made his sedate cousin turn slightly to gaze at him through his half-closed eyes. "Give them their heads, Kitty," cried Scarlett, as they approached a hill; and, as they heard the order, the cobs gave their crests a toss, and broke into a canter, breasting the hill, and keeping up the speed to the very top, where they were checked for the descent upon the other side. "There you are, old fellow," cried Scarlett. "There's the river winding among the patches of grove and meadow. There's the Rosery; you can catch it beautifully now. Do you see how the creeper has gone up the chimney-stack? No, of course you can't from here.--Gently, my beauties; steady, steady, little rascals. Don't pull your mistress's arms out by the roots." "A lovely view indeed, James," said the visitor. "It seems more beautiful every time I come." "Oh, every place looks at its best now," said Scarlett heartily. "I say, I've got down a new boat; we must have a pull up to the locks. That's the sort of thing to do you good, my boy." Prayle smiled, and shrugged his shoulders lightly. "How long does it take you to drive from the station?" he said quietly. "We allow five-and-twenty minutes," said Scarlett. "We shall do it in twenty to-day. I like to go fast, and these little ruffians enjoy it. They want it: they're getting too fat." The cobs tossed their heads again at this, and tried to break into another canter. "Steady, steady, you larky little scoundrels.--Give them a pull, Kitty. Oh, that's right; the gate's open."