Miss Ogilvie abstained from either blame or argument, knowing that it would only make her worse; and recollecting the old Undine theory, wondered whether the Elf would ever find her soul, and think with tender regret of the affection she was spurning. The next day the travellers started, sleeping a couple of nights in Hyde Corner, for convenience of purchases and preparations. They were to meet Mrs. Evelyn at the station; but Janet, who foretold that she would be another Serene Highness, soured by having missed the family title, retarded their start till so late that there could be no introduction on the platform; but seats had to be rushed for, while a servant took the tickets. However, a tall, elderly, military-looking gentleman with a great white moustache, was standing by the open door of a carriage. “Miss Brownlow,” said he, handing them in--Babie first, next Janet, and then Elvira. He then bowed to Miss Ogilvie, took his seat, handed in the appurtenances, received, showed, and pocketed the tickets, negotiated Janet’s purchase of newspapers, and constituted himself altogether cavalier to the party. Sir James Evelyn! Janet had no turn for soldiers, and was not gratified; but Elvira saw that her blue eyes and golden hair were producing the effect she knew how to trace; so she was graciously pleased to accept Punch, and to smile a bewitching acceptance of the seat assigned to her opposite to the old general. Barbara was opposite to Mrs. Evelyn, and next to Sydney, a girl a few months older than herself, but considerably taller and larger. Mother and daughter were a good deal alike, save that the girl was fresh plump, and rosy, and the mother worn, with the red colouring burnt as it were into her thin cheeks. Yet both looked as if smiles were no strangers to their lips, though there were lines of anxiety and sorrow traced round Mrs. Evelyn’s temples. Their voices were sweet and full, and the elder lady spoke with a tender intonation that inspired Babie with trustful content and affection, but caused Janet to pass a mental verdict of “Sugared milk and water.” She immersed herself in her Pall Mall, and left Babie to exchange scraps of intelligence from the brother’s letters, and compare notes on the journey. By-and-by Mrs. Evelyn retired into her book, and the two little girls put their heads together over a newly-arrived acrostic, calling on Elfie to assist them. “Do you like acrostics?” she said, peeping up through her long eyelashes at the old general. “Oh, don’t tease Uncle James,” hastily interposed Sydney, as yet inexperienced in the difference between the importunities of a merely nice-looking niece, and the blandishments of a brilliant stranger. Sir James said kindly-- “What, my dear?” And when Elvira replied-- “Do help us to guess this. What does man love most below?” he put on a droll face, and answered-- “His pipe.” “O Uncle James, that’s too bad,” cried Sydney.