Certainly life seemed to flow very smoothly at Ladywell now; and the days fled by, they hardly knew how. Upon most fine evenings four people might be seen pacing the terrace or the gardens of the Manor House; Roma and Maud deep in talk, Phil and Tor arm-in-arm, sometimes talking, always smoking, ever seeming sublimely contented with themselves and their surroundings. ‘This is a fine realization of all our wildest dreams—eh, Phil?’ Tor would sometimes say. ‘We’ve seen some odd passages in life, you and I; but this is a famous wind-up to it all.’ ‘Yes; and a much better one than it ever could have been, if you had not spent three months of your life as Philip Debenham.’ Then Tor would grin with that sense of the ridiculous which recollections of this episode always brought. ‘Ah! what a time I had of it, what with one thing, and what with another! I’m glad enough I did it now; but you’ll never catch me playing that game a second time, not for anyone. My recollections of some of the situations are far too vivid!’ ‘And what an ass I was!’ Phil would say, with a fervour that showed how genuine was the sentiment. ‘Just to think I could ever have been such a fool as to believe you wished to supplant me! Just to think the bother and worry and pain I gave myself believing you to be an arch-traitor and deceiver—you, mine own familiar friend!’ * * * * * Four years have come and gone since then, and Ladywell Lodge is still as happy a home as ever. There is a tiny baby Phil there now, reigning supreme over all, save only the big ‘papa’ he adores and tries to tyrannize over with all his small might. There is, too, a prattling, laughing little Marjory, as self-willed and imperious as the ‘godmother’ she is continually chattering about, and who seems to hold a very high place in her infant estimation. Miss Marjory’s visits to Ladywell are a source of increasing delight and satisfaction to everybody in the place, only to be rivalled in felicity by the annual excursion of the Torwood family to the Minster House, Whitbury, where a delightful fortnight is spent year by year, in the height of the summer. Miss Marjory is as strong and bright and imperious as ever, and quite as fully convinced that the world is rapidly coming to an end, which theory is much strengthened by the precocious utterances of her god-daughter. People say that she grows younger instead of older, and they also say that the new orchidhouse which her landlord has built for her, is one of the finest in the kingdom, and has a great deal to do with her never-failing health and happiness. NOTE.