"No, my dear madam; but he is as rich as a Jew. Very good fellow, Perowne?" Miss Twettenham bowed rather stiffly. "Well, my dear madam, I am not going to rob you of your pupils for several weeks yet, but I should like to make their acquaintance and get them a little used to me before we start on our long voyage." "They are in the garden, Dr Bolter," said Miss Twettenham, rising. "I will have them sent for--or would you--" "Like to join them in the garden? Most happy!" Miss Twettenham led the way towards a handsome conservatory, through which there was a flight of steps descending to the lawn. "Dear me! ah, yes!" exclaimed the doctor. "Very nice display of flowers! Would you allow me? My own collections in the jungle-- passiflora--convolvulaciae--acacia." He drew some dry seeds from his pocket, and placed them in the old lady's hand, she taking them with a smile and a bow; after which they descended to the soft, velvety, well-kept lawn. "Most charming garden!" said the doctor--"quite a little paradise! but no Eves--no young ladies!" "They are all taking their afternoon walk except Miss Stuart and Miss Perowne," replied the old lady. "Oh!" She uttered a sharp ejaculation as a stone struck her upon the collarbone and then fell at the doctor's feet, that gentleman picking it up with one hand as he adjusted his double eyeglass with the other. "Hum! ha!" he said drily. "We get our post very irregularly out in the East; but they don't throw the letters at us over the wall." Miss Twettenham's hands trembled as she hastily snatched the stone, to which a closely-folded note was attached by an india-rubber band, from the Doctor's hands. "What will he think of our establishment?" mentally exclaimed the poor little old lady, as she glanced at the superscription, and saw that it was for Helen Perowne. "I have never had such a thing occur since Miss Bainbridge was sent away." "So Miss Perowne receives notes thrown to her over the garden wall, eh?" said the little doctor severely. "Indeed, Dr Bolter--I assure you--I am shocked--I hardly know--the young ladies have been kept in--I only discovered--" "Hum!" ejaculated the doctor, frowning. "I am rather surprised. Let me see," he continued. "I suppose that fair-haired girl stooping over the flower-bed yonder is Miss Perowne, eh?" "My sight is failing," stammered Miss Twettenham, who was terribly agitated at the untoward incident; "but your description answers to Miss Stuart." "And that's Miss Stuart is it? Hum! Too far off to see what she is like. Then I suppose that tall dark girl on the seat is Miss Perowne?" "Tall and dark--yes," said Miss Twettenham, in an agitated way. "Is she sitting down? You said tall?" "Hum! no," said the doctor, balancing his glasses; "she is standing right on the top of the back of a seat, and seems to be looking over the garden wall." "Oh!" "Bless my heart! Hum! Sham or real?" muttered the doctor.