So spoke Colonel Sturt, as Sir Everard drove his two friends from the door the next morning. Humphrey waved his hat in answer, and flew off to make arrangements with Virginie for going to the station to meet it. He had his father's leave for himself and Miles to go there with the coachman, and to be dropped afterwards at old Dyson's, where Virginie was to meet them, and bring them home. Nothing could be more perfect! At about half-past four, the dog-cart drove up to the door, and off they went, followed by many parting injunctions from Virginie as to getting in and out carefully, and sitting very still. The trumpet was waiting at the station, and was safely delivered into their eager hands. On the way to old Dyson's, Humphrey opened the parcel, and displayed the ear-trumpet to Miles. Never had they seen so curious an article! It was composed of three tubes, each fitting into the next, and it lengthened or shortened at will. Humphrey got very impatient to arrive, and tried to persuade the coachman to whip up the horse into a gallop; but steady old Peter didn't see it at all. Humphrey then amused himself by lengthening out the tubes, and trumpeting loudly through them; causing the horse to start so violently, that little Miles was almost pitched out. Then, in shutting it up again, he dropped it into the road, and they had to wait while he got out and picked it up. All this causing a delay, Peter was told on arriving at the cottage, that Virginie had already been there, but that, finding she was too soon, she had walked on to the village, and was to call again in a few minutes. This information he gathered from a woman who was standing at the gate, and who assisted the children to alight. Then, having deposited them safely, Peter drove off; and Humphrey, brandishing his trumpet, rushed down the little garden, and beat a thundering tattoo on old Dyson's door. But, loud as it was, it did not make any impression on the deaf old man, who was sitting in his arm-chair, indulging in an afternoon nap. One minute Humphrey waited, and then his patience gave way. He raised the latch, and the two children entered the cottage. "He's asleep," whispered Miles. "You must go and give him a little shake," said Humphrey. Miles advanced timidly. He didn't much like the job, but disobedience to Humphrey was a thing he never dreamt of. Humphrey hid the trumpet behind him, and waited eagerly. Miles's gentle shake produced no effect at all; Dyson only smiled pleasantly in his sleep. "Shake his hand," said Humphrey. Miles looked doubtfully at the horny hand lying on the arm of the chair, and flushed a little as he put his tiny fingers upon it. But the old man did not move. "Harder!" cried Humphrey. Miles exerted himself to the utmost, and succeeded better, for the old man turned over to one side of his chair, and lifted his head a little. Miles retreated a few steps. But it was a false alarm, for old Dyson's head fell forward again.