Her father was walking up and down the terrace slowly as she came out,
and he raised his head and looked at her absently.

"I shall probably ride into Bryndermere, father," she said. "Shall I
post your letters? I know you will be anxious for that one to the
book-sellers to go," she added, with a smile.

His eyes dropped and he seemed disconcerted for a minute, then he said: "No, no; I'll send it by Jason; I've not written it yet;" and he turned
away from her and resumed his pacing to and fro.

Ida went to the stable-yard and got on to Rupert by the aid of the
stone "mounting block" from which Charles the Second had climbed,
laughingly, to the white horse which figures in so many pictures of the
Merry Monarch, and rode out of the court-yard, watched with pride by
Jason. Before she had gone far he ran after her.

"If you're riding by West Hill, Miss Ida, perhaps you'd look at the
cattle-shed there. Williams says that the roof's falling in."

"Very well," she called back in her clear voice.

"Oh, and, Miss Ida, there's a big stone washed out of the weir; I'm
thinking it ought to be put back or we'll have the meadows above
flooded this winter."

She laughed and nodded and put Rupert to a trot, for she knew that
while she was within hearing Jason would bombard her with similar tales
of woe. Not a slate slid from the old roof of the Hall, or a sheep fell
lame, but the matter was referred to her.