agree with you about his nice, kind face, but if he was a criminal insane South Sea Islander I shouldn't like to show myself to him, upright, with my head like a bird's nest and my face wet with your tears. Oh yes, I felt you crying over me when he'd gone for the wine."
"I didn't," said Lucilla indignantly.
"Dear old thing," said Jane, "I enjoyed it. You're not half a bad old thing, are you, Lucy?"
It was some time before the young man returned with the mouldering relics of a landau, drawn by something which must once, as he said, have been a horse. The blue cloth lining of the carriage had turned to a livid green, and the cushions were, as he did not fail to point out, fossilised by the centuries. But, he humbly confessed, it was the best he could do.
"Where shall I tell him to go?" he asked, when Jane had been made comfortable, with Lucilla beside her. "Or would you rather"—he lowered his voice beyond the hearing of the tottering relic enthroned on the box—"would you rather I told him to drive along and you'll tell him later?"
"Thank you," said Jane; but Lucilla said, "No, of course not! Tell him Hope Cottage. And thank you ever so. And . . ."
"Good-bye," said Jane.
"But look here," said he. "I must know how the ankle goes on. May I call—this evening—to-morrow? I can't just say good-bye in this heartless way, and not know whether our first aid was successful."
"Of course not," said Lucilla heartily; "besides, we owe you a roller towel. No, I can't explain now. But will you come to-morrow and . . ."
"What time?" said he.
"Oh—er—I don't know. Tea-time, I suppose," said Lucilla.
"Tell him to drive on, please," said Jane coldly.
The decayed remains of a carriage were set in motion, and the young man was left planted there, as the French say, on the doorstep of Cedar Court.
