"Seems funny, if 'twas there, they never found it avore," said the suspicious Bessie. "It has just become popular. It was a little fishing village, and now they are making roads and building houses because doctors have discovered there's something in the air," George continued. "That's what Miss Nellie told me. There's an amazing big cemetery, and 'tis a wonderful healthy place," said Kezia. "You see, doctors recommend the place so highly that old people go there and die. That accounts for the cemetery, which is not really a local affair, for Drivelmouth is the healthiest place in England," said George. "Miss Nellie ses there be a thousand volks, and seven be took, and one gets paralytics," commented Kezia. "Drivelmouth is a great place for general paralysis. The paralytics are wheeled up and down the front all day. People go there just to see them," said George recklessly. "Wish I wur going," Bessie murmured. "Surely you are not going to take all those things!" George exclaimed, indicating a teaset, dinner service, and a quantity of art pottery. "That's what I tells her. She don't want all them things away with her," cried Bessie. "I don't like leaving them behind--wi' thieves breaking into the house to steal. I ha' lost enough already," said Kezia plaintively. This was a fortunate remark, as it disconcerted Bessie and put a stop to questions, while at the same time it removed her suspicions. It was not surprising that Kezia should wish to take away as much treasure as possible. She would have done the same herself. Still, she did not like to see that dinner service go out of the house. Robert had been about to move that. "How long be 'em going away for, Mr. George?" she asked presently, when Kezia had gone to gather up more of her possessions. "That depends on the weather," came the diplomatic answer. Packing continued steadily: boxes, crates, and hampers were piled up in the hall awaiting transport; Kezia had been prevented from leaking; Miss Yard continually inquired whether the railway was quite finished. The calm of exhaustion prevailed, when there came a defiant knock upon the front door, and the bell rang like a fire alarm. "It must be a telegram," said George gravely. "I hope nothing has happened to Mr. and Mrs. Taverner," said Nellie. "Why shouldn't something happen to them?" George muttered. "What do they say? Is there any hope?" cried Miss Yard. "We don't know anything yet," replied Nellie. "The railway has gone wrong. I was afraid it would--they were so venturesome. You were reading about letters coming without wires." "Telegrams," corrected Nellie, listening to the voices outside. "Yes, the postmen are very wonderful. You said they were using the stuff we eat in puddings, tapioca--or was it macaroni?" "You mean Marconi wireless messages, Aunt," said George. "I always mean what I say," replied the lady curtly.