"Mrs. Burnside and Jo looked their own dear selves--every line of them. It struck me afresh, as it always does when I see them after an interval, how beautifully yet quietly dressed they are, and how their photographs might be taken at any minute with delightful results. 'Portrait of a Lady and her Daughter' it would be." And Sally sighed a little sigh of a quite feminine sort, looking down at her own blue travelling attire and wondering how the same material would have looked if made up by Mrs. Burnside's tailor. "And Jarvis--how is he? I am very fond of Jarvis. I suppose he has lost some of the summer's tan?" "If he has it's been put back again by the frosty winds, for he's the image of health. Mr. Ferry and Janet are very much themselves, too. And they all sent you something." Sally reached under the berth and drew out a big florists' box, signalled the waiter to remove the remains of the breakfast, and then spread forth the cards which accompanied the great bunch of crimson roses, enjoying Mr. Rudd's almost boyish pleasure in the remembrance of his friends. "These must be for you too, Sally," said he, burying his nose in one fine half-open bud. "Not a bit of it." "No flowers for you, child?" "Fruit and chocolates and writing-tablets and other delightful things. You must have some of the grapes, Uncle Timmy--I ought to have thought of them for your breakfast." "These roses are as good as a square meal--but they should have been for you, not for an old fossil like me." "Don't you dare call yourself an old fossil, Uncle Timmy. Now look at all these pretty gifts," and Sally brought them forth, exhibiting them well concealed from the other passengers. Uncle Timothy looked and exclaimed and admired, and did not note that one person seemed to be unrepresented by any remembrance. Neither did he guess that tucked far away under Sally's berth was a box containing a mass of sweet peas which had that morning been carefully sprinkled, but which were destined never to be seen again by mortal eye except her own. CHAPTER XVIII FROM APRIL NORTH