“Aunt Anne,” he exclaimed, “why should not you and Wimple go to our cottage at Witley for a bit? Oh! but I forgot—he stays with friends at Liphook, doesn’t he?” “No, my love, he lodges with an old retainer.” “Oh,” said Walter, shortly, remembering a different account that Wimple had given him the year before, on the memorable morning when they met in the Strand. “Well, I think it would be an excellent thing if you and he went to our cottage. It is standing empty; we don’t want it just yet, and there you could be together.” Aunt Anne looked up with keen interest. “Yes, why not?” exclaimed Florence. “I wish you would. You would be quite happy there.” “My love,” said the old lady, eagerly, “it would be delightful. But I’m afraid there are reasons that render it impossible for me to accept your kindness.” “What reasons?—do speak out,” they said entreatingly, “because, perhaps, we can smooth them away.” “My dears,” said the old lady, “I must be frank with you. I am indebted to some of the tradespeople there, and I am not in a position to pay their bills.” “They are all paid,” Walter said joyfully, “so don’t trouble about them; and, moreover, we told them that they were never to give us any credit, so I am afraid they won’t give you any next time, any more than they will us, but you won’t mind that.” “And then, my love,” the old lady went on, to Florence, “I have no servants.” “I can arrange that,” said Florence. “I can telegraph to Jane Mitchell, the postman’s sister, who always comes in and does for us when we go alone, from Saturday to Monday, and take no servant. Do go, Aunt Anne; it will do you a world of good. I shall take you back to your lodgings, and get you ready, and send you off to-morrow morning.” Aunt Anne stood up excitedly. “My dears,” she said, “I will bless you for sending me. I can’t bear this separation. I want to be with him, and he wants me—I know he does; it makes him cross and irritable to be away from me.” There was almost a wild look in her eyes. They were astonished at her vehemence. But suddenly she seemed to remember something, and all her excitement subsided. “I cannot go until Sir William Rammage returns to town, or his solicitor does. My quarter’s allowance is not due for some weeks, and unfortunately——” “We’ll make that all right, Aunt Anne; leave it to us,” said Walter. “Florence will come round in the morning and carry you off, and Wimple will be quite astonished when you send for him.” Aunt Anne looked up almost gaily. “Yes, my love, he will be quite astonished. You have made me happy,” she added, with something like a sob; “bless you for all your goodness. Now, my dear ones, you must permit me to depart; I shall have so many arrangements to make this evening. Bless you for all your kindness.” “I am going to take you back in a hansom,” said Walter. And in a few minutes they were driving to the address she had given, a florist’s shop in a street off the Edgware Road.