“Ay, it is your fatherland, too, Aunt Mary!  Is there not something inspiring in the very air?  Come, Fred, can’t you get up a little enthusiasm?”

“Oceans, without getting it up,” replied Fred.  “I never was more rejoiced in my whole life,” and he began to hum Domum.

“Sing it, sing it; let us join in chorus as homage to Knight Sutton,” cried Henrietta.

And the voices began, “Domum, Domum, dulce Domum;” even Aunt Mary herself caught the feelings of her young companions, felt herself coming to her own beloved home and parents, half forgot how changed was her situation, and threw herself into the delight of returning.

“Now, Fred,” said Henrietta, “let us try those verses that you found a tune for, that begin ‘What is home?’”

This also was sung, and by the time it was finished they had reached a gate leading into a long drive through dark beech woods.  “This is the beautiful wood of which I have often told you, Henrietta,” said Mrs. Frederick Langford.

“The wood with glades like cathedral aisles,” said Henrietta.  “O, how delightful it will be to see it come out in leaf!”

“Which I have never seen,” said Beatrice.  “I tell papa he has made his fortune, and ought to retire, and he says he is too young for it.”

“In which I fully agree with him,” said her aunt.  “I should not like to see him with nothing to do.”

“O, mamma, Uncle Geoffrey would never be anywhere with nothing to do,” said Henrietta.

“No,” said her mother, “but people are always happier with work made for them, than with what they make for themselves.  Besides, Uncle Geoffrey has too much talent to be spared.”

“Ay,” said Fred, “I wondered to hear you so devoid of ambition, little Busy Bee.”

“It is only Knight Sutton and thinking of May flowers that makes me so,” said Beatrice.  “I believe after all, I should break my heart if papa did retire without—­”

“Without what, Bee?”

“Being Lord Chancellor, I suppose,” said Henrietta very seriously.  “I am sure I should.”

“His being in Parliament will content me for the present,” said Beatrice, “for I have been told too often that high principles don’t rise in the world, to expect any more.  We can be just as proud of him as if he was.”

“You are in a wondrously humble and philosophic mood, Queen Bee,” said Henrietta; “but where are we now?” added she, as a gate swung back.

“Coming into the paddock,” said Beatrice; “don’t you see the lights in the house?  There, that is the drawing-room window to the right, and that large one the great hall window.  Then upstairs, don’t you see that red fire-light?  That is the south room, which Aunt Mary will be sure to have.”