"What are you taking my name in vain for?" interrupted Grace's own voice. She had come up to them carrying the very son and heir that Isaac had been complaining of: a young gentleman with a bald head, just beginning to exercise his hands in dumb fights; as well as his lungs. "Papa, mamma says are you not going in to tea?" Before the Rector could answer, or Isaac extricate his hair from the unconsciously mischievous little hands which had seized upon it by Grace's connivance, there came a gay party of equestrians round the corner of the road. Charlotte Pain, with the two young ladies, her guests; Lady Sarah and Miss Grame, who sometimes hired horses for a ride; and three or four gentlemen. Amongst the latter were George Godolphin and Lord Averil. Lord Averil had met them accidentally and joined their party. He was riding by the side of Charlotte Pain. "I say, Grace!" hastily exclaimed Isaac, twitching away his head, "take that baby in, out of sight. Look there!" "Take my baby in!" resentfully spoke Grace. "What for? I am not ashamed to be seen holding it. Keeping only two servants, I must turn nurse sometimes: and people know it. I am not situated as Maria is, with a dozen at her beck and call." Isaac did not prolong the discussion. He thought if he owned an ugly baby with no hair, he should not be so fond of showing it off. Grace stood her ground, and the baby stood his, and lifted its head and its arms by way of greeting. Isaac wondered that it did not lift its voice as well. The party exchanged bows as they rode past. George Godolphin--he was riding by the side of Sarah Anne Grame--withdrew his horse from the throng and rode up. "How are you, Grace? How is the baby?" "Look at him," returned Grace in answer, holding the gentleman up to him. "Shall I take him for a ride?" asked George, laughing. "Not if you paid me his value in gold," answered Grace bluntly. George's gay blue eyes twinkled. "What may that value be? Your estimation of it, Grace?" "Never mind," said Grace. "I can tell you that your Bank would not meet it. No, not if all its coffers were filled to the brim." "I see," observed George: "he is inestimable. Do not set your heart too much upon him, Grace," he continued, his voice changing. "Why not?" she asked. "Maria had to lose some, equally dear." "That is true," said Grace in softened tones. "How is Maria to-day?" "Quite well, thank you. She went to Ashlydyat this afternoon, and I dare say has remained there. Famous weather for the hay, is it not, sir?" he added to the Rector. "Couldn't be better," replied Mr. Hastings. George rode off at a canter. The baby burst into a cry; perhaps that he could not go off at a canter too: and Grace, after a vain attempt to hush him, carried him into the house. The Rector remained, looking over the gate. "Things going wrong with him!--No! He could not be so easy under it," was his mental conclusion. "It is all right, depend upon it," he added aloud to his son.