"You'll shock him more for an abominably rude boy who pokes fun at his elders," laughed the old lady. "But come in now and have tea. What a lovely afternoon it is--but a trifle drowsy." "Meaning that somebody's been asleep," rejoined Falkner mischievously, climbing out of his hammock. "Oh well. So it is. Let's go for a stroll presently or we shall all be going to sleep. Might take the fishing lines and see what we can get out of the waterhole." "Fishing lines? And it's Sunday," said Mrs Sewin, who was old fashioned. "Oh I forgot. Never mind the lines. We can souse Arlo in and teach him to dive." "We can do nothing of the kind," said Arlo's owner, decisively. "He came within an ace of splitting his poor dear head the last time you threw him in, and from such a height too. What do you think of that, Mr Glanton?" turning to me. And then she gave me the story of how Falkner had taken advantage of the too obedient and confiding Arlo--and of course I sympathised. When we got fairly under way for our stroll--I had some difficulty by the bye in out-manoeuvring the Major's efforts to keep me pottering about listening to his schemes as to his hobby--the garden to wit--the heat of the day had given place to the most perfect part of the same, the glow of the waning afternoon, when the sun is but one hour or so off his disappearance. We sauntered along a winding bush path, perforce in single file, and soon, when this widened, I don't know how, but I found myself walking beside Miss Sewin. I believe I was rather silent. The fact is, reason myself out of it as I would, I was not in the least anxious to leave home, and now that it had come to the point would have welcomed any excuse to have thrown up the trip. Yet I was not a millionaire--very far from it--consequently money had to be made somehow, and here was a chance of making quite a tidy bit--making it too, in a way that to myself was easy, and absolutely congenial. Yet I would have shirked it. Why? "What is preoccupying your thoughts to such an alarming extent," said my companion, flashing at me a smile in which lurked a spice of mischief. "Is it the cares and perils of your expedition--or what?" "By Jove--I must apologise. You must find me very dull, Miss Sewin," I answered, throwing off my preoccupation as with an effort. "The fact is I believe I was thinking of something of the kind--ruling out the `perils.' Do you know, I believe you've all been rather spoiling me here--spoiling me, I mean, for--well, for my ordinary life. But-- anyhow, the memory of the times I have known lately--of days like this for instance--will be something to have with one, wherever one is."