"I will find him out in two minutes, if you like."
"How can you? We are, I suppose, five miles from home."
"Hold the reins, please. We'll soon ring him up."
"Please do not laugh at me, I really am anxious."
"I am not joking, as you will see."
From beneath the seat of the dog-cart the young engineer drew a small machine, which, leaping from the vehicle, he attached to the top rail of the wire fence, and began vigorously turning a handle.
"What are you doing?" cried Gwyneth, laughing, while Willie, forgetting himself, stood up at the back and peered over Gwyneth's shoulder with amazement.
"Why, it's a coffee-grinder, I do believe," the lad whispered.
A little bell began to ring.
"Are you there?" inquired Travers, bending over an almost inaudible disc.
"Who's speaking?"
"Oh, my office, is it? Ask whether Mr. Elms has returned."
In a few moments the words came—"He has just arrived."
"Tell him we shall be home by six. Has the mail arrived?"
"No other news?"
"In the Lovibanks Paddock?"
"Send a man to repair it."
"That's all."
Leaping into the trap, disposing the instrument under the seat, the dog-cart was in a moment whirling again on its way.
"Your father has returned," reported Travers; "I have told him we shall be back by six. Good sales reported
