They were in sight of a rustic gateway banked with masses of rhododendrons and other flowering shrubs, and through this Mrs Scarlett deftly guided the phaeton, which seemed suddenly to run more quietly along the pretty curved gravel drive, whose sides were lawn of the most velvety green; while flowers of the brightest hues filled the many beds. The grounds were extensive, though the house was small and cottage-like, with its highly-pitched gables, latticed windows, and red-brick walls covered with magnificent specimens of creeping plants. On either side of the house were pretty extensive conservatories, and glimpses of other glass-houses could be seen beyond a tall thick hedge of yew. In fact, it was just the _beau-ideal_ of a pretty country-home, with a steep slope down to the river. "Here we are, old fellow," cried Scarlett, as he leaped out and helped his wife to alight.--"Are they warm, Tom?" "No, sir; not turned a hair, sir." "That's right.--Now then, Arthur. Same room as you had before. Will you take anything after your ride?" "Oh, dear, no," said Prayle; "and if you'll allow me, I'll ramble about till dinner." "Do just what you like, old man. There are cigars and cigarettes in the study. If there's anything else you want, just ring." "Oh, don't; pray don't," said Prayle deprecatingly. "You will spoil my visit if you make so much of me." "Make much of you, lad? Stuff!--Good-bye, Buddy; good-bye, Jen," he cried, patting the cobs.--"Take care of them, Tom.--Beauties, aren't they, Arthur? My present to Kate. Now then, come along." He led the visitor into the tiled hall, at every corner of which was some large _jardiniere_ full of flowers, and up the broad staircase to the guest-chamber, flowers being in the window even here; while the floors were covered with the softest carpets and rugs, and pictures and engravings of no little merit covered the walls. "You have a magnificent place here, James," said the visitor, with a sigh. "Nonsense, man. Half the beauty is Nature's own doing, aided by your humble servant, Kitty, old John Monnick, and a couple of labourers. Why, I pay less for this pretty Elizabethan cottage than I should for some brick dungeon in a West-end square. Less? Why, I don't pay half. Now, I'm going to unfig." He nodded pleasantly at his guest, and left him alone, when a scowl came over Prayle's face, and glancing round at the well-furnished room, with its bright fittings and charming flowers in window and vase, he said in a low and bitter voice: "Why should this weak boor be rolling in wealth, while I have to pinch and spare and contrive in my dim blank chambers? The world is not fair. Oh, it is not fair!" As he stood there in the middle of the room, a distant sound made him turn his head sharply, and he caught sight of his frowning face in the dressing-glass, when, smoothing away the wrinkles, he paid a few attentions to his personal appearance, and went down to stroll about the grounds.