“Uncle Horace, Cousin Madelon has been telling us about South America, and we have been hunting buffaloes.”

“I am sorry,” says Madelon; “I quite forgot how busy you are, Monsieur Horace, and that you could hear all our noise.  We will be quieter for the future, and not hunt buffaloes just over your head.”

He looked at her without answering; there was a flush on her pale cheeks under the shadow of the heavy waves of hair, a smile in her eyes as she looked at him with one of her old, shy, childish glances, as if not quite sure how he would take her apology.  He could not help smiling in answer, then laughed outright, and turned away abruptly.

“Come here, then Jack, and I will give you a ride,” he said, lifting the boy on to his shoulder.  “This is the way we hunt buffaloes.”

Half-an-hour later, Maria, just come in from the village, looked into the nursery, attracted by the shouts and laughter.  “It is really very odd,” she said afterwards to Mrs. Vavasour, in a somewhat aggrieved tone, “that when Horace always declares he cannot find time to walk with me, or even to talk to me, he should spend half his morning romping with the children in the nursery.”  And Mrs. Vavasour, who had also gone upstairs with Madge and Harry when they had finished their lessons, had not much to say in answer.

CHAPTER IV.

Ich kann nicht hin!

One day, Madelon said to Mrs. Vavasour, “Please let me have all the children for a walk this afternoon.”

“What, all! my dear girl,” said Mrs. Vavasour; “you don’t know what you are undertaking.”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Madelon answered, smiling; “they will be very good, I know, and Madge will help me.”

So they all set out for their walk, through the garden, and out at the gate that led at once into the fields which stretched beyond.  They walked one by one along the narrow track between the springing corn, a little flock of brown-holland children, and Madelon last of all, in her fresh grey spring dress.  Harry had a drum, and marched on in front, drubbing with all his might; and Jack followed, brandishing a sword, and blowing a tin trumpet.  Madge would have stopped this horrible din, which indeed scared away the birds to right and left, but Madelon only laughed and said she liked it.

Graham, coming across the fields in another direction, saw the little procession advancing towards him, and waited on the other side of a stile till it should come up.  The children tumbled joyfully over into Uncle Horace’s arms, and were at once ready with a hundred plans for profiting by the unwonted pleasure of having him for a companion in their walk; but he distinctly declined all their propositions, and sending them on in front with Madge, walked along at Madelon’s side.

“Why do you plague yourself with all these children,” he said, “instead of taking a peaceable walk in peaceable society?”