Nothing was too good for Alec--so his mistress thought--and for the best of reasons.

Not only was he the ideal servant of the old school, but he was the pivot on which the whole establishment moved.

If a particular brand or vintage was needed, or a key was missing, or did a hair trunk, or a pair of spurs, or last week's Miscellany, go astray--or even were his mistress's spectacles mislaid--Alec could put his hand upon each and every item in so short a space of time that the loser was convinced the old man had hidden them on purpose, to enjoy their refinding.

Moorlands without old Alec would hive been a wheel without a hub.
As a distinct feature of all these preparations--and this was the best part of the programme--Harry was to meet Kate at the outer gate supported by half a dozen of his young friends and hers--Dr.Teackle, Mark Gilbert, Langdon Willits, and one or two others--while Mrs.Rutter, Mrs.Cheston, Mrs.Richard Horn, and a bevy of younger women and girls were to welcome her with open arms the moment her dainty feet cleared the coach's step.

This was the way princesses of the blood had been welcomed from time immemorial to palaces and castles high, and this was the way their beloved Kate was to make entry into the home of her lord.
Soon the flash of the coach lamps was seen outside the far gate.