Directly the work was commenced he and Alwyn were going to Bournemouth for a few weeks. The sea-voyage had been postponed for the present. Mr. Gaythorne fretted himself at the idea of parting so soon with his boy, and he hated the thought of his going alone. "If there were someone to look after him," he would say to Dr. Luttrell; "but I feel as though I could never trust him to take care of himself again; look at him, he is a perfect wreck." And though Marcus still held to his opinion that a long voyage would be his best remedy, he thought it more prudent to wait a little, and on his side Alwyn seemed reluctant to go. "I have been too much my ain lane already," he said; "I should prefer to stay at home a little longer," and then Bournemouth was selected as a compromise. Mrs. Crampton would go with them, and, at Mr. Gaythorne's request, Marcus went down first and chose their rooms. "Why not go from Saturday to Monday, and take your wife down? I will frank your expenses," he said, "and the little trip will do you both good." And though Marcus hesitated over this, as Martha was too young to be trusted with the care of Dot, Greta came to the rescue by undertaking to look after the child. Olivia could scarcely believe her ears when this magnificent project was unfolded to her. Two whole days with Marcus by the sea! And they had neither of them had an outing since their modest wedding-trip,--a week at St. Leonards. "It will be another honeymoon," she said, flushing with pleasure. And as they sat together in the hotel garden that Saturday evening, she thought of the humble lodging to which Marcus had taken her, and what fun they had got out of their first attempt at housekeeping. The little change did them both good, but, though neither of them would have owned it for the world, No. 1, Galvaston Terrace, certainly looked a little dreary on their return. The bright spring weather only made the dinginess more apparent, but nothing would induce the landlord to treat them to a fresh coat of paint. Marcus whitewashed one or two of the rooms in the intervals of his work, and Olivia put up clean curtains and purchased a plant or two. As far as scrupulous cleanliness could avail, the little house was in first-rate order. Nevertheless Marcus gave vent to an impatient sigh now and then as he looked round the small, low room. The side windows had been blocked up in the days of the window-tax, and the one small window lighted the room imperfectly. "If we could only move," he said once. "I want you and Dot to have more light and air. We are too near the cemetery, too. We should do much better in Compton Street or Norfolk Terrace." And then, as Olivia looked at him in surprise, he said a little impatiently: