"Dear Madam"--he wrote--"Though I cannot hope you will be able to recall my name, I think you may remember Mowbray Lodge. I have regretted very much, during my visit, that Mrs. Page is not my neighbour. It would have given me so much pleasure to call on her, and to meet the family who were such very good comrades of mine in the year when this house was a school, kept by Mr. Boultbee, and a posse of children came down for the summer holidays. Perhaps the names of my cousins, Nina and 'Gina, may be more familiar to you than my own. At least those old-time friends of yours have shared my disappointment. It is only since they left that I have had the good fortune to hear your address mentioned. Will you pardon a stranger writing to express this vehement interest on the part of people whom you have probably forgotten? If I debated the matter for long, my courage would desert me, and I should leave my cousins to make their own inquiries next week, when I go back to town. On the other hand, if you and your sisters remember us, pray believe that none sends kinder regards to you all than-- "Yours truly, "CONRAD WARRENER." "Come, I don't think anybody can take exception to that," mused Conrad. And he sent it to the post, with a line of thanks to Mr. Irquetson. On the next evening but one he began to doubt if she meant to reply. It seemed to him the sort of thing a woman would acknowledge immediately if she didn't mean to ignore it altogether. Yet why should she ignore it? Silence would be rather uncivil, wouldn't it--a humiliation needlessly inflicted? If she had reasons for wishing to decline his acquaintance, it was quite possible to prevent his advancing, and to frame an urbane answer at the same time. Had he said too much about Nina and 'Gina, appeared too much in the light of an amanuensis? Surely she had the wit to understand? Four or five days passed before he tore open an envelope stamped with the initials "M.B.B." The enclosure began "Dear Sir," and his brows contracted. "Dear Sir"--he read--"I was very surprised to receive your letter. What a long time ago, is it not? It is very nice of you all to remember us after so long. I left Sweetbay at the time of my marriage, and have been living in Tooting some years now. My mother has removed to Matlock. If you or your cousins are ever in the neighbourhood I shall hope to have a chat over old times. Please give them my remembrances, With kind regards--Yours truly, "MARY BARCHESTER-BAILEY." There were only three wrong ways of beginning a response--three blatant solecisms--and she had chosen one of them when she wrote "Dear Sir." Conrad was disappointed. The "fair and slightly pathetic" figure of his dreams grew fainter; his ideal confidante didn't make these mistakes. He put the missive in his pocket, and drew dejectedly at his pipe. "Of course I shall go," ran his thoughts, "but I've made rather an ass of myself, taking such trouble to find her!"