“To be sure,” said Bride, with her most good-humoured smile. “Why should he be saying no to such a sensible plan? He can’t wish to have you in town for the first part of August. Doreen has plenty of room for you in this house she has taken on the Parade, and we will bathe every day, and have no end of fun.” “Here comes Aimee with a letter. Bride, I believe it will be from Sir Matthew; things come just when one is talking about them.” A pretty dark-haired girl now approached them. “Fraulein asked me to give you this note,” she said, “I believe it is from Cousin Doreen.” “Yes, that’s Doreen’s writing,” said Bride. “Read it quickly, do.” And Evereld read as follows: “My Dear Evereld, “We shall be delighted if you will spend the next fortnight with us here at Southbourne. Sir Matthew is quite willing that you should do so, though he cannot spare you to us after the 14th August, as he wishes you to go with him to Switzerland. I would have liked you to see our Irish mountains first; however, they can hold their own very well against any Alp ever created, and you must come and stay with us next year instead. Tell Bride to bring you as early to-morrow morning as you like. “Yours affectionately, “Doreen Hereford.” This note gave general satisfaction, and the three friends yielded to the entreaties of some of the younger children and entered with spirit into the game of hide and seek, Evereld feeling all the delight of a reprieve as she realised that for a whole fortnight she should be able to stay at Southbourne and to postpone the parting with Bride. The next morning when, somewhat saddened by all the partings they had been through, the two girls were driving down to the Parade, they suddenly caught sight of a huge poster announcing the advent on the following Monday of Mr. Hugh Macneillie’s Company, and the performance of “The Winter’s Tale” “The Rivals” and “The Lady of Lyons.” Evereld knew nothing of Ralph’s movements; nothing had been heard from him since the Easter holidays, when he had still been travelling in Scotland. She looked, however, with no small interest at this poster, having always remembered their childish worship of Macneillie. “I have never seen ‘The Winter’s Tale,’” said Bride. “We must certainly go. Doreen is always delighted if we want to see one of Shakspere’s plays.” By this time they had arrived at their destination and Evereld who already knew her friend’s family very intimately found herself in the midst of a lively babel of voices, warmly greeted by pretty Mrs. Hereford, hugged by her three children, and speedily made to feel quite at home. “How is Dermot?” asked Bride. “Much better,” replied her sister, “you will find him with Mollie in the drawing-room. Let me see, Evereld has not yet met him. We must present the family patriot to you. Poor boy he has always been unlucky, and since his release a year ago from Clonmel gaol he has been desperately ill.”