"Yes, of course," said poor Titania; "but what do you think about Penelope? Could you find out anything, Bob, if I let you go and stay with her?" Bob’s eyes gleamed. "Rather," he said, "of course. But I needn’t worry about old Guth if I do? I’ve been working very hard, and I think a holiday would do him good, too. I’m very much overworked. Do I look tired, granny? I always feel tired now in my head. Guth says a breakdown from overwork is much worse than most fatal diseases." "You shall go to Penelope if she’ll have you," said his anxious grandmother. "Do you have headaches, Bob?" "Not headaches," said Bob, "I shouldn’t call ’em headaches exactly. They’re pains, and old Guth says he had ’em when he was at Oxford. They get worse, he says, and then the breakdown comes, and you have to take a very long rest. I’ll go on working if you like, though." He sighed. "You shall go to your cousin’s," said Titania, "and my dear, dear Bob, keep your eye on Penelope and tell me all you discover. Her ideas are very strange, you know, and we are all so anxious about her future." "So am I," said Bob. "If she married the wrong one I shall be out of it. I couldn’t get on well with old De Vere, and if she married him I’m quite convinced he wouldn’t buy any more dogs. I want her to marry Goby or Bramber. But I think Bramber is rather mean in some ways, and very thoughtless of others. I told him I wanted some salmon fishing at his father’s place in Scotland, and he’s said nothing about it since." "I shouldn’t mind Lord Bramber so much," said Titania. "But I’m afraid it won’t be Bramber." "Cheer up," said her grandson. "I’ll look after her. But don’t forget about the extra ten shillings and the horse. Could you give me the ten shillings for six weeks now, granny?" And he went off to Penelope’s house and marched in on her. "Pen, I’m coming to stay with you if you’ll have me," he said. "Of course I will," said Penelope. "But how did you manage it?" "I’m overworked," said Bob, solemnly, "and sitting on chairs and learning Latin don’t agree with me. I want more open air, I think, or I shall get consumption." He was fat and ruddy and as strong as a bull-calf. He put his arm around Pen’s neck. "I say, Pen, I do love you," he said. "I think it’s rot I’m so young, or I’d have married you myself. Granny’s in an awful state about you, Pen. She asked me if I knew who it was you liked best, and she threw out hints a foot wide that I was to find out if I could." "Indeed," said Pen; "and what did you say?" Bob chuckled.