"Well, he's a plucky young man all the same, my dear," she said. "He really did show great presence of mind, and has been awfully nice throughout the whole business. Fancy your meeting here in this way! What is his name?"

As Celia told her, Reggie, having secured the harness sufficiently, brought the now placid and subdued Turk to his mistress.

"Oh, is it all right?" said her ladyship. "Well, Mr. Rex, I'm very much obliged to you. And so you know this young lady, my friend, Miss Grant!

Dear me, how extraordinary. My dear, is my hat straight?"

It was resting on one ear; and Celia, laughingly, but gently, put it straight.

"I was going into the village," said Lady Gridborough; "but I suppose I'd better go home."

"Yes, yes; of course you had!" said Celia. "You must be very much shaken, if you are not actually hurt."

"Very well, then," said her ladyship. "Get in, my dear. And you, too, Mr. Rex, if you've not already had enough of me, and Turk."

"I'll come, and drive," said Rex, with marked prompt.i.tude.

"Yes, do; though a child might drive him with a match and a piece of cotton now. This is a very interesting meeting for you two. May one inquire what you are doing in this locality, young man?"

"I'm taking a bit of a holiday--well, scarcely a holiday; for I'm thinking out a new novel," said Reggie, modestly, and with a little blush.

"Dear me, you don't say so," said the old lady, opening her eyes wide.

"Wonder how you do it! Come in search of character, I suppose? Well, here's your heroine, anyway."

"Yes, she is," said the boy, now blushing outright and nodding at Celia.

"She's been my heroine ever since I first saw her--in the British Museum Reading Room, you know."

"That's a candid avowal," observed her ladyship, dryly, as Celia laughed.

They chatted in this pleasant fashion, and, in due course, reached the Grange. It was quite a merry little lunch, through which Reggie talked incessantly, to the increased amus.e.m.e.nt of his good-natured hostess, and confirming her good opinion of him.

"Now, you two children can go and sit on the terrace while I have my nap. Wiggins, give Mr. Rex a cigar."

The two went out on the terrace; and scarcely waiting for him to light a cigar, Celia demanded "his story."

"Oh, well; I've had a stroke of luck," he said, with a long breath. "And it's all owing to you."

"To me!"

"Yes. You remember that 'short' I sent you? But, of course, you don't."

"Oh, yes, I do," Celia a.s.sured him. "It was an awfully good story."

"Well, backed up by all the fine things you said, I sent it to the editor of the _Piccadilly Magazine_. He accepted it--perhaps he wasn't well at the time--and more than that, he sent for me. I thought, perhaps, he wanted to shoot me; but, bless you, no! He liked the thing so much that he commissioned me to write a 'long, complete,' twenty thousand words; so I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone, run down into the country for a holiday and business combined. But, look here, before I say another word, you've got to tell me what you're doing here."

Celia told him as briefly as she could.

"Oh, but that's splendid!" he cried, seizing her hand and shaking it, just as if she were another boy. "I say, you _are_ a swell; and amongst such swells; marquesses and lords and ladies of high degree! But, I say, I am glad. How happy you must be!"

"I am," said Celia. "But go on, tell me about your novel; what kind of a novel is it to be?"

"Do you remember my telling you, that afternoon at the A.B.C. shop, how, if ever I got a chance, I meant to go in for character, psychology? Good word, psychology! Well, I've got my chance, and I'm going for it bald-headed. Since I saw you, I have been studying Lavater; the physiognomy man, you know--wonderful book!--and I've been fitting imaginary histories to everybody, man or woman, I've met."

"I used to do that," said Celia, dreamily; and back came Brown's Buildings.

"Yes? Of course, one may make an awfully bad shot sometimes; but I'm inclined to think that, as a rule, one is pretty accurate. I mean, that you can judge the character of a man from his face--not so often that of a woman, because she's more difficult, she knows how to mask her feelings----"

"Thank you," interjected Celia.

"Oh, you know what I mean! She's been the slave of the man for centuries, and she's been obliged to deceive him."

"Thank you very, _very_ much!"

"Oh, but she's getting past that, now; she's coming into her own, whatever that may prove to be; and presently she'll go about with an open countenance, and it may be easier for me to study her."

"It's to be a detective story, I suppose?" said Celia.

"Right the first go off!" he a.s.sented, admiringly. "Yes; but something out of the ordinary, I hope. I've been through a course of Gaborieau, and the rest of the detective-story men, and I want to come out with something fresh. Of course, what I need is real experience. I suppose I ought to have served my term as a criminal reporter; do murders and forgeries, and all that kind of thing. But, then, I haven't. I must trust to luck and chance. You don't happen to know whether a nice little murder I could sleuth down has been committed here?"

"I'm afraid there hasn't," replied Celia, laughing.

"Rather a pity, isn't it? Never mind! Oh, are you going?"

"Yes, I must go," said Celia. "I won't disturb Lady Gridborough. Will you say good-bye to her for me?"

"Oh, but I'm coming with you," he said, decidedly. "I'll walk with you as far as your place and then come back and make my adieux to her ladyship."

They set off, laughing and talking; and presently, as they came to Susie's cottage, Susie herself, with the baby in her arms, was standing at the door. At sight of Celia's companion, Susie drew back; but Celia called to her and ran up to her.

"Oh, Susie, I'm so sorry!" she said, remorsefully; "but I meant to speak to Lady Gridborough to-day about the christening. I have seen her; but she met with an accident; she is all right, quite all right. I will go up to the Grange again to-morrow, and come in to tell you what we have arranged."

She had taken the child in her arms and was hugging and kissing it; then, seeing that Susie wanted to retreat, she gave her the child and returned to Reggie, who had been standing by the gate, his eyes fixed on them. He drew a long breath as they turned away, and exclaimed, in a low voice:--

"I say! What an awfully pretty woman! Was that her baby? She looked quite a girl."

"Yes," said Celia, gravely. "Susie is only a girl."

"She must have been married very young," said Reggie, with, evident interest. "What beautiful eyes! But, I say, why did she look so sad?

Isn't--isn't her husband good to her?"

Celia was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the ground, a faint colour in her cheeks. If he were staying in the neighbourhood, he must inevitably learn something of Susie's story. Would it not be well for her to tell him?

"She is not married!" said Celia, in a whisper.

"Oh, lord," said Reggie, "I'm sorry! Poor girl!"

There was no more light-hearted chatter; he became absent-minded; indeed, they were almost silent till they were close upon the lodge gates.

"You must go back now," said Celia.