There was a sound of horses’ hoofs and carriage wheels; the wagonette was being brought round to the front door.

“I consider it very shabby of Honnor not to have stayed to say good-bye,” Lady Adela said to her departing guest.  “She might have given up one morning’s fishing, I think, especially as you have been such an assiduous attendant—­carrying her things for her, and keeping her company on those long excursions—­”

“Oh, don’t be afraid,” said Miss Georgie, with a bit of a covert laugh.  “Honnor won’t forsake her friend like that.  I’ll bet you she won’t be far from the Horse’s Drink when Mr. Moore has to cross the stream.”

“If I were you,” Lord Rockminster finally said, in a confidential undertone, as they all rose from the table, “I would telegraph about dinner.”

How Lionel hated the sight of this open door, and the wagonette, and the portmanteau up beside the coachman!

“Good-bye, Mr. Moore,” said the pleasant-mannered young matron to him, as she took his hand for a moment.  “I’m afraid it has been awfully dull for you—­”

“Lady Adela!” he said.

“But the next time you come we shall try to be less monotonously bucolic.  Perhaps by then the phonograph will be able to bring us a whole musical evening from London, whenever we want it—­a whole performance of an operetta—­”

“Offenbach in a Highland valley!” he exclaimed.

“No,” she said, very quietly and graciously; “but perhaps something by the composer of ’The Squire’s Daughter’—­and there might be in it an air as delightful as that of ‘The Starry Night.’  Oh, Mr. Moore, don’t let them produce any other piece at the New Theatre until we all get back to London again!  Well, good-bye—­it’s so kind of you to have taken pity on us in this wilderness—­”

“If you knew how sorry I am to go, Lady Adela!” he said.  “And will you say good-bye for me to Miss Cunyngham?”

“You needn’t bother to leave a message,” said Miss Georgie, with significant eyes.  “You’ll find she won’t be far away from the Horse’s Drink.”

And as it chanced, Miss Georgie’s forecast (whether inspired by a saucy impertinence or not) proved correct.  Lionel, having bade farewell to all these friends, got into the wagonette; and away the carriage went—­quietly, at first, over the soft turf and stones—­to the river.  Of course he looked out.  Yes, there was Miss Honnor—­fishing the Whirl Pool—­with old Robert sitting on the shingle watching her.  Would she notice?—­or would he get down and walk along to her and claim the good-bye she had forgotten?  The next moment he was reassured.  She caught sight of the approaching wagonette; she carefully placed her rod on the shingle, and then came walking along the river-bank, towards the ford, at which the horses had now arrived.