"I have never been in a very old house before," she said. "You know in Mexico, in the States, in Australia, the houses must be modern."

"May I ask if you have brought your pedigree?" inquired Miss Griselda.

"Yes, Katharine, you need not look at me in such a surprised manner. We neither of us have an idea of troubling Mrs. Lovel to show it to us now--not indeed until she has rested; but it is absolutely necessary to trace Philip's descent from Rupert Lovel at as early a date as possible.

That being correctly ascertained and found to be indisputable, we must have him examined by some eminent physician; and if the medical man p.r.o.nounces him to be an extremely strong boy our quest is ended, and you and I, Katharine, can rest in peace. Mrs. Lovel, you look very tired.

Would you like to retire to your room? Katharine, will you ring the bell, dear? We will ask Newbolt to accompany Mrs. Lovel to her room and to attend on her. Newbolt is our maid, Mrs Lovel, and quite a denizen of the forest; she can tell you all the local traditions."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Lovel. "Yes, I shall be glad to lie down for a little. I do hope Philip is not tiring himself--not that he is likely to; he is so strong. Thank you, Miss Lovel, I will lie down for a little.

Yes, of course I brought the pedigree--and--and--a very quaint house; even the new part looks old to me!"

Mrs. Lovel tripped out of the room, and the two old ladies looked at one another.

"What do you think of her, Katharine?" inquired Miss Griselda. "You are dying to speak, so let me hear your sentiments at once!"

"I don't quite like her," said Miss Katharine. "She seems very tired and very nervous, and perhaps it is unfair and unkind to say anything about her until she is rested. I can't honestly say, however, that my first impression is favorable, and she may be much nicer when she is not so tired and not so nervous. I don't like her much at present, but I may afterward. What are your opinions, Griselda?"

"Katharine," said Miss Griselda, "you are the most prosaic and long-winded person I know. You don't suppose for an instant that I am going to say what I think of Mrs. Lovel to-day. After all, it is the boy in whom we are interested. Time alone can show whether these two are not another couple of impostors. Now, I wonder where that child Rachel has taken herself!"

CHAPTER V.--IN THE FOREST.

Kitty and Philip ran off together hand in hand. They were about the same height, but Kitty's fair, healthy, flushed face showed in strong contrast to Phil's pallor, and her round and st.u.r.dy limbs gave promise of coming health and beauty; whereas Phil's slight form only suggested possible illness, and to a watchful eye would have betokened a short life. But the boy was wiry and just now he was strongly excited. It was delightful to be in the real country and more than delightful to go out with Kitty.

"You are my cousin, aren't you?" said the little maid, favoring him with a full, direct glance.

"I suppose so," he answered. "Yes, I suppose so. I don't quite know."

Kitty stamped her foot.

"Don't say that!" she replied. "I hate people who are not quite sure about things. I want to have a real boy cousin to play with. Two or three make-believes came here, but they went away again. Of course we all found them out at once, and they went away. I do trust you are not another make-believe, Philip. You're very pale and very thin, but I do hope what's of you is real."

"Oh, yes; what's of me is real enough," said Phil, with a little sigh.

"Where are you going to take me, Kitty? Into the forest? I want to see the forest. I wonder will it be as fine as the forest where Ru----I mean where a cousin of mine and I used to play?"

"Oh, have you another cousin besides me? How exciting!"

"Yes; but I don't want to talk about him. Are we going into the forest?"

"If you like. You see those trees over there? All that is forest; and then there is a bit of wild moorland, and then more trees; and there is a pine wood, with such a sweet smell. It's all quite close, and I see it every day. It isn't very exciting when you see it every day. Your eyes need not shine like that. You had much better take things quietly, especially as you are such a very thin boy. Aunt Katharine says thin people should never get excited. She says it wears them out. Well, if you must come into the forest I suppose you must; but would you not like something to eat first? I know what we are to have for tea. Shall I tell you?"

"Yes," said Phil; "tell me when we have got under the trees; tell me when I am looking up through the branches for the birds and the squirrels. You have not such gay birds as ours, for I watched yours when I was coming in the train from Southampton; but oh! don't they sing!"

"You are a very queer boy," said Kitty. "Birds and squirrels and forest trees, when you might be hearing about delicious frosted cake and jam rolly-polies. Well, take my hand and let's run into the forest; let's get it over, if we must get it over. I'll take you down to the Avon to fish to-morrow. I like fishing--don't you?"

"Yes," said Phil. "I like nearly everything. Do you fish with flies or bait?"

"Oh, with horrid bait! that is the worst of it; but I generally get Robert--one of our grooms--to bait my lines."

The children were now under the shade of the trees, and Kitty, after running about until she was tired, climbed into one of the branches of a wide-spreading beech tree and rocked herself in a very contented manner backward and forward. Phil was certainly a very queer little boy, but she was quite convinced he must be her real true cousin, that he was not a make-believe, that he would stay on at Avonsyde as the heir, and that she would always have a companion of her own age to play with.

"He will get tired of the forest by and by," she said to herself, "and then he will like best to play with me, and we can fish all day together. How jolly that will be! What a good thing it is that he is so nearly my own age, and that he is not older; for if he were he would go every where with Rachel and be her friend. I should not like that at all," concluded the little girl, with a very selfish though natural sigh of satisfaction.

Presently Phil--having wandered about to his heart's content, having ascertained the color of several birds which sang over his head, having treasured up the peculiar quality of their different notes, and having ascertained beyond all doubt that the English forest was quite the quaintest and most lovely place in the world--came back and climbed into the tree by Kitty's side.

"I'd like him to see it awfully," he said.

"Who, Phil?"

"I can't tell you--that's my secret. Kitty, you'll never find that I shall get accustomed to the forest--I mean so accustomed that I shan't want to come here. Oh, never, never! A place like this must always have something new to show you. Kitty, can you imitate all the birds' notes yet?"

"I can't imitate one of them," said Kitty, with an impatient frown coming between her eyebrows.

"But I know what I want to be doing, and I only wish you had the same want."

"Perhaps I have. What is it?"

"Oh, no, you haven't. You're just like the goody-goody, awfully learned boys of the story-book. I do wish you wouldn't go into raptures about stupid trees and birds and things!"

Phil's little pale face flushed.

"Rupert--I mean--I mean my dearest friend--a boy you know nothing about, Kitty--never spoke about its being goody-goody to love things of this sort, and he is manly if you like. I can't help loving them. But what is your want, Kitty?"

"Oh, to have my mouth crammed full of jam rolly-poly! I am so hungry!"

"So am I too. Let's run back to the house."

When Philip and Kitty had gone off together for their first exploring expedition, when the two little strangers to one another had clasped hands and gone out through the open hall-door and down the shady lawns together, Rachel had followed them for a few paces.

She stood still shading her eyes with one hand as she gazed after their retreating figures; then whistling to an English terrier of the name of Jupiter, she ran round to the stables and encountered one of the grooms.

"Robert, put the side-saddle on Surefoot and come with me into the forest. It is a lovely evening, and I am going for a long ride."

Robert, a very young and rather sheepish groom, looked appealingly at the bright and pretty speaker.

"My mother is ill, Miss Rachel, and Peter do say as I may go home and see her. Couldn't you ride another evening, missy?"

"No, I'm going to ride to-night. I wish to and I'm going; but you need not come with me; it is quite unnecessary. I should like nothing so well as having a long ride on Surefoot all alone."

"But the ladies do say, Miss Rachel, as you are not to ride in the forest by yourself. Oh, if you will go, missy, why, I must just put off seeing my poor mother until to-morrow."

Rachel stamped her foot impatiently.

"Nonsense, Robert!" she said. "I am going to ride alone. I will explain matters to my aunts, so you need not be at all afraid. Put the side-saddle on Surefoot at once!"

Robert's conscience was easily appeased. He ran off and quickly returned with the rough little forest pony, and Rachel, mounting, cantered off.

She was an excellent rider and had not a sc.r.a.p of fear in her nature.