"You'd better be wary of him, Edith," interposed Mrs Gilmour jokingly. "He's a terrible old flirt with all the ladies, young and old alike! But, wouldn't you like to go upstairs and take your things off?" "No, thanks, not till it's time for bed; and, it must be very near that now." "Oh, the day's yet young!" cried her hospitable hostess, leading the way back into the parlour. "We didn't expect you before to-morrow, or next day at the earliest; and Nell, indeed, stopped in all the morning to finish her letter in time, so that you could get it to-night in London, as she thought. Still, my dear, I dare say we'll be able to find you something to eat, and your rooms shall be got ready for you as soon as possible." "Please, mum," said Sarah, who was still waiting in the hall, at hand for whatever the guests might need, "they are quite ready, mum!" "Ready!" repeated Mrs Gilmour surprised. "The spare rooms?" "Yes, mum," replied Sarah, dropping a curtsey, with the proud consciousness of having done well in her mistress's sight. "Me and Molly went up to the rooms and did what you told me I'd have to do to- morrow, as soon as ever Mr and Mrs Strong came, mum; so now they're quite ready. Molly, too, went back afterwards to her kitchen, and is warming up the curry, in case you should like it hot for supper." "You've done quite right, Sarah, and just as I would have directed if I'd been at home. Tell Molly from me, that there is nothing my brother is fonder of than curry; and that she may send up supper as soon as she's got it ready." Sarah hurried off to quicken the preparations of her fellow-servant below, her movements somewhat accelerated by Bob shouting out the cruel refrain of the "forget-me-not poem!" "Ah, but," put in the Captain, "the `good Sarah' did not forget her head this time, at any rate! You'll have to alter your poem, Master Bob!" Then, of course, ensued a lot of explanations, which led up to an account of the picnic, the elaborate description of which Nellie had taken such pains to write in her letter home to her mother. All of which pains, alas! were thrown away; for here was her mother by her side, while her graphic letter was lying uselessly in the box at the post-office! A series of questions and answers then followed rapidly in reference to Bob and Miss Nell's doings since they had been down by the sea; interspersed with sundry inquiries after Blinkie, the old dissipated jackdaw left behind at home, and Snuffles, the black cat, who was a martyr to chronic influenza, whence his very appropriate name!