"It certainly looks like it," assented Mrs. Dexter. "He will be company
for you on your walks."
"Oh, may I have him?" cried Celia, delightedly. "I've fallen
passionately in love with him."
Mrs. Dexter assured her that Roddy, as well as everything in and about
the place, was at Celia's service, and, explaining that she was very
busy, hurried away. Immediately after breakfast Celia began her
delightful work, and for the next two or three days stuck to it so
persistently that Mrs. Dexter remonstrated.
"Oh, but you don't know how much I love it," pleaded Celia. "The moment
I leave the library I want to get back to it. You see, I'm mad on books,
and this work of mine is a labour of love; the very touch of some of
these old volumes thrills me. And there are so many of them; sometimes I
feel that I shall never get through my task, if I live to be ninety."
"You'll soon look like ninety, my dear, if you don't take more
exercise," observed Mrs. Dexter, wisely. "I am sure his lordship would
be grieved if he knew you were working so hard. Now, come, take Roddy
and go for a long walk; or perhaps you would rather drive?"
Celia declared that she preferred a walk, and a little later she started
out, somewhat reluctantly, with Roddy close at her heels. It was a
delicious morning; the feeling of the coming summer was in the air, the
larks were singing joyously above the moorland, as if they, too, were
revelling in the bright sunlight, the clean, keen air, the scent of the
gorse with which it was perfumed. Celia could scarcely refrain from
singing; she walked quickly, and sometimes, to Roddy's delight, she ran
races with him. She came to the end of the moor at last, and swung down
to the high road, followed it for some time and presently came to two
cross-roads. She was hesitating which to take, when a small phaeton,
drawn by an Exmoor pony, came rolling towards her.
In the phaeton was an old lady with white hair and a pleasant
countenance; she had very sharp eyes and a smile that was a trifle
cynical. At sight of the young girl, with the brilliant eyes and the
healthily flushed cheeks, she stopped the pony and looked at Celia
curiously. Celia felt as if she must speak to everyone that morning, so
she went up to the tiny carriage and asked how far it was, by the road,
to Thexford Hall.