“Horizontal weather,” said the Professor, and made straight for the door, very nearly trampling on Bruno, who had only just time to get out of his way. “_Isn’t_ he learned?” the Warden said, looking after him with admiring eyes. “Positively he runs over with learning!” “But he needn’t run over _me_!” said Bruno. The Professor was back in a moment: he had changed his dressing-gown for a frock-coat, and had put on a pair of very strange-looking boots, the tops of which were open umbrellas. “I thought you’d like to see them,” he said. “_These_ are the boots for horizontal weather!” “But what’s the use of wearing umbrellas round one’s knees?” “In _ordinary_ rain,” the Professor admitted, “they would _not_ be of much use. But if ever it rained _horizontally_, you know, they would be invaluable—simply invaluable!” “Take the Professor to the breakfast-saloon, children,” said the Warden. “And tell them not to wait for me. I had breakfast early, as I’ve some business to attend to.” The children seized the Professor’s hands, as familiarly as if they had known him for years, and hurried him away. I followed respectfully behind. [Illustration: BOOTS FOR HORIZONTAL WEATHER] CHAPTER II. L’AMIE INCONNUE. As we entered the breakfast-saloon, the Professor was saying “—and he had breakfast by himself, early: so he begged you wouldn’t wait for him, my Lady. This way, my Lady,” he added, “this way!” And then, with (as it seemed to me) most superfluous politeness, he flung open the door of my compartment, and ushered in “—a young and lovely lady!” I muttered to myself with some bitterness. “And this is, of course, the opening scene of Vol. I. _She_ is the Heroine. And _I_ am one of those subordinate characters that only turn up when needed for the development of her destiny, and whose final appearance is outside the church, waiting to greet the Happy Pair!” “Yes, my Lady, change at Fayfield,” were the next words I heard (oh that too obsequious Guard!), “next station but one.” And the door closed, and the lady settled down into her corner, and the monotonous throb of the engine (making one feel as if the train were some gigantic monster, whose very circulation we could feel) proclaimed that we were once more speeding on our way. “The lady had a perfectly formed nose,” I caught myself saying to myself, “hazel eyes, and lips——” and here it occurred to me that to see, for myself, what “the lady” was really like, would be more satisfactory than much speculation.