“What else is there?” asked Master Cheese.  “Anything in the sweets line?”

“There’s about a hundred baked plum puddings.  My wife has got some custards, too, in her larder.  The custards are not intended for out here, but you can have one.”

Master Cheese wiped his damp face; he had gone all over into a glow of delight.  “Bring a pudding and a custard or two, Tynn,” said he.  “There’s nothing in the world half so nice as a plate of plum pudding swimming in custard.”

Tynn was in the act of supplying his wants, when a movement and a noise in the distance came floating on the air.  Tynn dashed the dish of custards on to the table, and ran like the rest.  Everybody ran—­except Master Cheese.

It was turning slowly into the grounds—­the blue and silver carriage of the Verners, its four horses prancing under their studded harness.  Lionel and his wife of a few days descended from it, when they found themselves in the midst of this unexpected crowd.  They had cause, those serfs, to shout out a welcome to their lord; for never again would they live in a degrading position, if he could help it.  The various improvements for their welfare, which he had so persistently and hopefully planned, were not only begun, but nearly ended.

Sir Henry clasped Lucy’s sweet face to his own bronzed one, pushing back her white bonnet to take his kiss from it.  Then followed Lady Verner, then Decima, then Mary Elmsley.  Lucy shook herself free, and laughed.

“I don’t like so many kisses all at once,” said she.

Lionel was everywhere.  Shaking hands with old Mr. Bitterworth, with the Misses West, with Sir Edmund Hautley, with Lord Garle, with the Countess of Elmsley, with all that came in his way.  Next he looked round upon a poorer class; and the first hand taken in his was Robin Frost’s.  By and by he encountered Jan.

“Well, Jan, old fellow!” said he, his affection shining out in his earnest, dark-blue eyes, “I am glad to be with you again.  Is Cheese here?”

“He came,” replied Jan.  “But where he has disappeared to, I can’t tell.”

“Please, sir, I see’d him just now in an alcove,” interposed Dan Duff, addressing Lionel.

“And how are you, Dan?” asked Lionel, with his kindly smile.  “Saw Mr. Cheese in an alcove, did you?”

“It was that there one,” responded Dan, extending his finger in the direction of a spot not far distant.  “He was tucking in at a pie.  I see’d him, please sir.”

“I must go to him,” said Lionel, winding his arm within Jan’s, and proceeding in the direction of the alcove.  Master Cheese, his hands full of cold pudding and his mouth covered with custard, started up when surprised at his feast.

“It’s only a little bit I’m tasting,” said he apologetically, “against it’s time to begin.  I hope you have come back well, sir.”

“Taste away, Cheese,” replied Lionel, with a laugh, as he cast his eyes on some remaining fragments.  “Partridge pie! do you like it?”