"The atmosphere
Breathes rest and comfort,
and the many chambers
Seem full of welcomes."
--LONGFELLOW.
"Where is Dick?" asked Philippa presently. "I do so want to see him."
"Dickie is away, I am sorry to say," answered his mother mournfully. "We have all been staying with my sister in Yorkshire. Bill and I came home yesterday, but she persuaded me to let him stay for another week."
"It is so good for the little chap to be with other boys," said Major Heathcote. "He has no companions of his own age here. This neighbourhood is curiously short of boys."
"When will he be going to school?" inquired Philippa.
"Oh; not for two years at least," replied Marion quickly. "Don't let us talk of it; I dread the very idea of it."
"Poor little hen with one chick," her husband laughed good-humouredly. "You will hardly recognise Dick, Miss Harford. He has grown enormously since you last saw him. Let me see--that was three years ago, wasn't it?"
"Very nearly three years ago, in Gibraltar," assented Philippa.
"I began to think that Fate had a plot against us, and that we were never going to meet again," said Marion. "It is delightful to feel that you are here at last. I have so much to tell you that I hardly know where to begin."
"We must show you all round the old place to-morrow," said her husband, rising as he spoke. "But if we are going to dine to-night we ought to begin to think about dressing. Dinner is at a quarter to eight. We keep old-fashioned hours in these parts."
"Come along," said Marion, taking her friend's arm as they moved towards the wide staircase.
"What a lovely house, Marion!" exclaimed Philippa, turning to survey the hall in which they had been sitting.
This apartment had formed part of the original house built in Tudor times, and had remained unaltered, untouched, save for the hand of Time, which had darkened the oak panelling and the beams of the high timbered roof, in the dim recesses of which hung tattered banners--spots of colour in the gloom overhead.
Above the huge stone fireplace, which was large enough to have roasted the historic ox of mediaeval festivities, hung a portrait of the royal lady whose visit had given the house its name--Queen Elizabeth, represented in her famous gown, embroidered with eyes and ears--seeing all, hearing all!