"But I have _really_," getting up from his chair in his excitement; "I've seen the number and the name of the street written somewhere in this drawing-room." "You must be dreaming, dear." "No, I'm quite sure I did. Now where _could_ it have been? Did I go near the writing-table?" As he spoke, he advanced. "Or, stop, here are some cards. Did I see it written on a card?" "No; I assure you Swears and Wells are not visitors of mine." Humphrey was determined not to give it up, and in spite of the laughter of both ladies, he got up, went to the door, and made his entry all over again, that he might see what he could have passed on the way that might have had the direction on it. He reflected out loud as he went along: "I came in here and passed the table (no, not on the books, or the work-basket, or the flower-stand). Then I stood by the piano a minute, while father was shaking hands with Mrs. Colville (no, not on the piano or the music). Then I shook hands with Mrs. Colville, then I sat down on the sofa by her sister, and put my hat by my side so--and----Oh!" he exclaimed, so suddenly that he startled both ladies, "here it is, written inside my hat! _That's_ where I saw it--look! a little ticket: 'Swears and Wells, 192 Regent Street.' _Ain't_ you glad, Mrs. Colville? Now you'll be able to find the shop. Hadn't you better write it down?" He was heart and soul in the subject, and did not perceive the amusement he gave. What would Virginie's feelings have been could she have seen the name, number and address, copied with great accuracy into Mrs. Colville's "Where is it?" and to make sure there should be no mistake, this memorandum added: "a suit such as was lately made for Sir E. Duncombe's little boy"? This was just accomplished when Sir Everard came back. "I'm afraid the General is in for a sharp attack, Mrs. Colville." "I am afraid he is--he is so very imprudent. You know my sister, Sir Everard?" Sir Everard advanced with a smile of recognition. "Is it possible you are little Mary Wilberforce? I didn't recognize you just now, you are grown out of all recollection. To be sure, it is a long time since I saw you--three or four years, isn't it?" Mary said something about it being a long time, but she did not like to particularize the date, though she remembered it perfectly: because Lady Duncombe had been with him at the time, and she was afraid of recalling painful associations. "And when did you leave Banleigh?" "About a week ago." "How were my people?" "I saw Lady Albinia and Miss Duncombe the day before I left. They were both very well." A shy smile lighted up her face as she mentioned Miss Duncombe. There was evidently some joke about her, for it was reflected on Sir Everard's. "Poor old Cecilia," laughed he.