Mary was intent upon no bird’s-nest.  Her quick ear had caught the sound of manly voices in the winding drive under the pine wood; and surely, yes, surely one was a clear and familiar voice, which heralded the coming of happiness.  In such a moment she seemed to have wings.  She became unconscious that she touched the earth; she went skimming bird-like over the lawn, and in and out, with fluttering muslin frock, among arbutus and bay, yew and laurel, till she stood poised lightly on the top of the wooded bank which bordered the steep ascent to Lady Maulevrier’s gate, looking down at two figures which were sauntering up the drive.

They were both young men, both tall, broad-shouldered, manly, walking with the easy swinging movement of men accustomed to active exercise.  One, the handsomer of the two in Mary’s eyes, since she thought him simply perfection, was fair-haired, blue-eyed, the typical Saxon.  This was Lord Maulevrier.  The other was dark, bronzed by foreign travel, perhaps, with black hair, cut very close to an intelligent-looking head, bared to the evening breeze.

‘Hulloa!’ cried Maulevrier.  ‘There’s Molly.  How d’ye do, old girl?’

The two men looked up, and Molly looked down.  Delight at her brother’s return so filled her heart and mind that there was no room left for embarrassment at the appearance of a stranger.

’O, Maulevrier, I am so glad!  I have been pining for you.  Why didn’t you write to say you were coming?  It would have been something to look forward to.’

’Couldn’t.  Never knew from day to day what I was going to be up to; besides, I knew I should find you at home.’

‘Of course.  We are always at home,’ said Mary; ’go up to the house as fast as ever you can.  I’ll go and tell grandmother.’

‘And tell them to get us some dinner,’ said Maulevrier.

Mary’s fluttering figure dipped and was gone, vanishing in the dark labyrinth of shrubs.  The two young men sauntered up to the house.

‘We needn’t hurry,’ said Maulevrier to his companion, whom he had not taken the trouble to introduce to his sister.  ’We shall have to wait for our dinner.’

‘And we shall have to change our dusty clothes,’ added the other; ’I hope that man will bring our portmanteaux in time.’

’Oh, we needn’t dress.  We can spend the evening in my den, if you like!’

Mary flew across the lawn again, and bounded up the steps of the verandah—­a picturesque Swiss verandah which made a covered promenade in front of the house.

‘Mary, may I ask the meaning of this excitement,’ inquired her ladyship, as the breathless girl stood before her.

‘Maulevrier has come home.’

‘At last?’

‘And he has brought a friend.’

’Indeed!  He might have done me the honour to inquire if his friend’s visit would be agreeable.  What kind of person?’

’I have no idea.  I didn’t look at him.  Maulevrier is looking so well.  They will be here in a minute.  May I order dinner for them?’