"There, George!" cried one of the parrots; while the giant tortoise thoughtfully advanced one millimetre. "She is not nearly serious enough," said George, "and I'm afraid her words sometimes have a double meaning; but she is useful and quite ornamental. She pours out tea beautifully, and I do admire the way she puts on Aunt Sophy's slippers." The next duty--a more simple one--was to win the sympathy of Miss Yard. Every evening, when fine enough, the lady walked once round the garden and, upon returning to the house, was packed into her chair till supper time; although she refused to remain quiescent, and would wander about the room hiding her valuables in secret corners. On this particular evening she fell asleep and, when George entered the parlour, she did not recognise him until he had introduced himself. "I shall soon be getting quite stupid," she said. "I was just going to ask you to sit down and wait for yourself. But I'm thankful to say my memory is just as good as ever." "Then you remember Percy?" began George, seating himself close beside her. "Oh dear yes! I often hear from Percy. He tells me he has a fine crop of potatoes." "Tomatoes." "He dug up two hundred pounds' worth last week. I had a letter from him this morning telling me that." "And you remember Mr. Hunter?" George went on. "I've just sent him a subscription for his new church," replied Miss Yard. "Ah, that's somebody else. I mean Mr. Hunter, your family solicitor." "Oh, yes, I remember him quite well. He came to see me when I lived somewhere else. It must have been a long time ago, because he's been dead for years." "He's back again at his office now, and has written to me. He tells me I am to leave you," said George solemnly. Miss Yard gasped and looked frightened at this message from the grave. She seized George's arm and ordered him to say it all over again, more slowly. "Mr. Hunter is afraid that, if I live here, I may rob you; so he says I must go out into the world and make my own living. That's impossible at my time of life," said George warmly. "You wouldn't do such a thing," cried Miss Yard, almost in tears. "You are so kind to me; you find my money when the others hide it away. If I break anything you are always the first to run for the doctor--I mean when I bump my head. I shall write to Mr. Hunter and tell him his new church will never prosper if he does this sort of thing." "It is hard to be ordered out of my own house," said George. "Whatever can the man be thinking of! I really cannot understand a clergyman being so wicked. Perhaps I ought to write to the bishop." "He's a lawyer, Aunt," George shouted.