"I was thinking what a scandal it would make in the parish. Aunt and I don't get on well together, but I'm sure she would never turn me out." "You ought to have heard her just now. I had no idea Aunt Maria could be so determined. She will give you money--she will help you--but go you must." "Did she say where?" "That's for you to decide. Isn't there any sort of job that takes your fancy?" "I like railways. I always feel at home in a big railway station," George admitted. "Station-master,--or traffic-manager--might suit you." "Do you know I really believe it would," said George brightly. "Now we've found it!" exclaimed Percy. "I'm going the day after tomorrow, and you had better come with me. We will travel up to Waterloo, and you can see the directors there about getting a job as station-master. I don't know if there's a premium, but, if there is, Aunt will pay it. You might get a small suburban station to start with. We'll go on Friday--that's a bargain, George?" "Right, old chap! It's a long time since I had a holiday," came the ominous reply. Mrs. Drake opened her heart and purse when she discovered George was about to accept a position as station-master. Miss Yard said she was sorry to hear he was giving up tomatoes, then in the same breath implored Percy to keep away from junctions where people were lost and trains collided with distressing frequency. Kezia mended linen, packed, and uttered many a dark saying about men who left their homes on Friday in the pride of life and were not heard of again. Percy assured his aunts they might always rely upon him to settle any difficulty. While George basked in popularity, like a sleek cat upon a windowsill, and took all that he could get in the way of cash, clothing, and compliments. "You must come here sometimes. I expect you won't be able to get away for a year or two; but when you do get leave remember this is always your home," said Mrs. Drake warmly. "I feel sure we shall soon meet again," said George hopefully. "A year anyhow: you cannot expect a holiday before then. I'm sure the railway will be lucky to get such a fine looking man, though it's a pity you stoop, and I wish you were not quite so stout. Perhaps the King will get out at your station some day; and you will have the honour of putting flower-pots on the platform and laying down the red carpet. You may be knighted, George, or at the very least get a medal for distinguished service." George was not thinking about honours much; for he had glanced towards the mantelpiece and discovered that the pair of vases were missing. "I have put them away," explained Mrs. Drake. "They are wrapped up safely in a box underneath my bed." "I was afraid Percy might have taken them," said George cautiously. "He did advise me to put them away, as he thought perhaps we ought to take care of them," Mrs. Drake admitted. "I hate the chap," muttered George.