trayed any particular consciousness of our presence. Then, laying down his paper, he bent across the table to his ward, favouring her with one of his charming smiles.
"Well, my dear," he said, "did you buy all that you wanted yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes," replied Madrasia, promptly, "I did."
"Enough to last you till you get home?" he continued.
"Quite!" said Madrasia.
"You didn't happen to buy a bag, or a case, or something to carry your impedimenta in?" he asked with a grin.
"Yes, I did," retorted Madrasia. "Do you think I was going to carry a brown paper parcel back to Wooler? I bought a very nice bag."
"Oh!" he said sweetly. "All right! Then you can just go and pack it, my girl, and be ready in three quarters of an hour, for we're going."
"Going where?" demanded Madrasia. "Home?"
"Not just yet," he said. "We're going south—by the express. A good way, too, and
