[Sidenote:  Family Prayers]

After breakfast Aunt Maria jingled a large bunch of keys and said it was her day for seeing the linen-room, and wouldn’t I like to go with her, as all young people should have “house-wifely” ideas?  So I went.  It is so beautifully kept, and such lovely linen, all with lavender between it; and she talked to the housekeeper, and looked over everything—­she seemed to know each sheet by name!  Then we went to the storeroom, all as neat as a new pin; and from there to interview all the old people from the village, who were waiting with requests, and some of them were as deaf as she is.  So the housekeeper had to scream at both sides, and I was tired when we got back, and did want to rush out of doors; but I had to wait, and then walk between Lady Farrington and Aunt Maria up and down the path in the sun till lunch at one o’clock; and after that we went for a drive in the barouche, with the fattest white horses you ever saw, and a coachman just like Cinderella’s one that had been a rat.  He seemed to have odd bits of fur on his face and under his chin, and Aunt Maria said that he suffered from a sore throat, that was why, which he caught at Aunt Mary’s wedding; and so I counted up—­and as Aunt Mary is your eldest sister, it must have been more than twenty years ago.  I do call that a long sore throat, don’t you? and I wouldn’t keep a coachman with a beard, would you?

We went at a snail’s pace, and got in at four o’clock, and then there was tea at half-past, with the nicest bread-and-butter you ever tasted.  And after that I said I must write to you, and so here I am, and I feel that if it goes on much longer I shall do something dreadful.  Now good-bye, dearest Mamma.—­Your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth.

Heaviland Manor,

Friday, August 5th.

Dearest Mamma,—­I am glad to-morrow will soon be here, and that I can come home, but I must tell you about yesterday.  First, all the morning it rained, and what with roaring at Aunt Maria and holding skeins of wool for Lady Farrington, I got such jumps that I felt I should scream unless I got out; so after lunch, while they were both having a nap in their chairs, I slipped off for a walk by myself—­it was still raining, but not much; I took Fido, who is generally a little beast, and far too fat.

[Sidenote:  Lord Valmond Reappears]

We had had a nice scamper, and had turned to come back not far from the Park, when who do you think came riding up?—­Lord Valmond!  The last person one expected to see down here!  He never waited a second when he saw me, but jumped off his horse and beamed—­just as if we had parted the best of friends!!! Did you ever hear such impudence?  Of course I should have walked on without recognising him, if I had been left to myself, but he took me so by surprise that I had shaken hands before I knew, and then it was too late to walk on.  It appears he has a place down here which he never comes to generally, but just happened to now—­to see how the young pheasants were doing.  He began at once to talk, as if I had never been angry or boxed his ears at all!  It really exasperated me, so at last I said he had better get on his horse again, as I wanted to run on with Fido; so then he said he had just been on his way to call on Aunt Maria, and would come with me.