about him. He was such a poor, gentle chap—not the sort o’ man one likes to think of as wandering about by himself."
"You always said he was ’centric," said Joe thoughtfully.
"Yes, he was that," said Bunting slowly. "Regular right-down queer. Leetle touched, you know, under the thatch," and, as he tapped his head significantly, both young people burst out laughing.
"Would you like a description of him circulated?" asked Joe good-naturedly.
Mr. and Mrs. Bunting looked at one another.
"No, I don’t think so. Not yet awhile at any rate. ’Twould upset him awfully, you see."
And Joe acquiesced. "You’d be surprised at the number o’ people who disappears and are never heard of again" he said cheerfully. And then he got up, very reluctantly.
Daisy, making no bones about it this time, followed him out into the passage, and shut the sitting-room door behind her.
When she came back she walked over to where her father was sitting in his easy chair, and standing behind him she put her arms round his neck.
Then she bent down her head. "Father," she said, "I’ve a bit of news for you!"
"Yes, my dear?"
"Father, I’m engaged! Aren’t you surprised?"
"Well, what do you think?" said Bunting fondly. Then he turned round and, catching hold of her head, gave her a good, hearty kiss.
