“Hephzy,” said I, “I have changed my mind. Travel may do me good. I have telegraphed the Heptons that we will join them in Paris on the evening of the twenty-first. After that--Well, we'll see.” Hephzy's delight was as great as her surprise. She said I was a dear, unselfish boy. Considering what I intended doing I felt decidedly mean; but I did not tell her what that intention was. We took the two-twenty train from Charing Cross on the afternoon of the twenty-first. The servants had been left in charge of the rectory. We would return in a fortnight, so we told them. It was a beautiful day, bright and sunshiny, but, after smoky, grimy London had been left behind and we were whizzing through the Kentish countryside, between the hop fields and the pastures where the sheep were feeding, we noticed that a stiff breeze was blowing. Further on, as we wound amid the downs near Folkestone, the bending trees and shrubs proved that the breeze was a miniature gale. And when we came in sight of the Channel, it was thickly sprinkled with whitecaps from beach to horizon. “I imagine we shall have a rather rough passage, Hephzy,” said I. Hephzy's attention was otherwise engaged. “Why do they call a hill a 'down' over here?” she asked. “I should think an 'up' would be better. What did you say, Hosy? A rough passage? I guess that won't bother you and me much. This little mite of water can't seem very much stirred up to folks who have sailed clear across the Atlantic Ocean. But there! I mustn't put on airs. I used to think Cape Cod Bay was about all the water there was. Travelin' does make such a difference in a person's ideas. Do you remember the Englishwoman at Bancroft's who told me that she supposed the Thames must remind us of our own Mississippi?” “So that's the famous English Channel, is it,” she observed, a moment later. “How wide is it, Hosy?” “About twenty miles at the narrowest point, I believe,” I said. “Twenty miles! About as far as Bayport to Provincetown. Well, I don't know whether any of your ancestors or mine came over with William the Conquerer or not, but if they did, they didn't have far to come. I cal'late I'll be contented with having my folks cross in the Mayflower. They came three thousand miles anyway.” She was inclined to regard the Channel rather contemptuously just then. A half hour later she was more respectful. The steamer was awaiting us at the pier. As the throng of passengers filed up the gang-plank she suddenly squeezed my arm. “Look! Hosy!” she cried. “Look! Isn't that him?” I looked where she was pointing. “Him? Who?” I asked. “Look! There he goes now. No, he's gone. I can't see him any more. And yet I was almost certain 'twas him.” “Who?” I asked again. “Did you see someone you knew?” “I thought I did, but I guess I was mistaken. He's just got home; he wouldn't be startin' off again so soon. No, it couldn't have been him, but I did think--” I stopped short. “Who did you think you saw?” I demanded.