"Then we missed the wagonette, and spent an hour finding a cab. Then when we got there we were waylaid by an old woman in a little cottage, who showed us a register of tourists, and who artfully mentioned the sums they had given toward the restoration of Stoke Pogis, and you made me give more than the day's excursion cost. Then we went along a wet, bushy lane that muddied my trousers, and when we arrived at Gray's grave, you found the solemn yew-tree, and perched yourself on a wet, cold gravestone, and read Gray's Elegy aloud, while I held an umbrella over your heads and enjoyed myself. Now you want to put in Sunday at Canterbury, where, if it isn't more cheerful, you will probably have to bury me." "Jimmie, you haven't any soul!" I said, in disgust. Jimmie grunted. A knock on the door. "Please excuse me for interrupting you," said Mary, "but there are two reporters down-stairs, who want to know if they may photograph the front of the house for the Sunday _Battle Ax_." "Yes, I don't care. Tell them to go ahead." She shut the door and went away. _Mr. and Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. "Oh, Jimmie," sighed his wife. Another knock. "Mary, what _do_ you want?" I said, savagely. She stuttered. "And please, Missis, they want to know if you will just come and sit on the doorstep a moment with a book in your hand. I told them Mr. Jardine wasn't at home, so they said you would do!" "No, I won't. Tell my sister to put on my hat and hold the book in front of her face and be photographed for me." "Very well, Missis." She went out, and again I numbered the page and essayed to write. But I could not. I was rapidly becoming mired. I stonily refused to leave my desk, but sat staring at the wall, trying to get the thread of my narrative, when--Mary again. She was in tears. "I am afraid to speak to you, and I am afraid _not_ to speak to you," she stammered. "Well, what is it?" "Indeed, I try, Missis, but I can't seem to help you any. There are two young girls in the drawing-room, who want to know if Mr. Jardine will give his autograph to the Highland Alumnae Club. It has 472 members. They sent up their cards." I simply moaned. "That will be a whole hour's work! I can't do it now. (Mary knows I always write Aubrey's autographs for him!) Tell them to leave the cards and call for them to-morrow." _Mr. and Mrs. Jimmie at Canterbury_. "How in the world, Mrs. Jimmie, did you come to throw yourself away on Jimmie?" I said, with an impertinence which was only appreciated by Jimmie. Mrs. Jimmie took me with infinite seriousness, and looked horrified at the sacrilege. She got up and crossed the room and sat down beside Jimmie on the sofa, without saying a word. Her tall, full figure towered above the gentlemanly slouch of Jimmie's boyish proportions, and her thus silently arraying herself on Jimmie's side as a wordless rebuke to my impertinence was so delicious that Jimmie gave me a solemn wink, as he said: