"So we are. Fay has left school as school; but she is so awfully keen on her old schoolmistresses that she is spending her last Easter with them just for pleasure, after all the other girls have gone home for the holidays, except one that has only a father and mother in India, and an aunt who is too full just now to take her in." "I wonder at Miss Fay being so fond of her school-mistresses, as you told me she hated anything in the shape of improvement or instruction." "So she does. But the Miss Wylies never improved her at all: she is just as nice now as she was when she first went there. And as for teaching her anything, they simply couldn't, for she knew a sight more when she was a kid of ten than they know now." "A most harmless seminary," I murmured. "But she is coming at the end of this week," Frank continued; "she says she can't keep away any longer, she is in such a tremendous hurry to see you, after all I've told her about you." "What have you told her about me?" I asked, with pardonable curiosity. "Oh, lots and lots of things! I've told her how good looking you are in a queer, Charles the First kind of way, and how you resemble the Miss Wylies in being so young for your age, and not seeming anything like as old as you really are, and how you like the things we like, and laugh at the things we laugh at." "A fairly accurate description, but not altogether a complimentary one," I remarked. "Well, anyhow--complimentary or not complimentary--it's made her wild to see you, and I'm sure that ought to satisfy a fellow." "It does," I replied; "but the important question is, shall I satisfy Miss Wildacre when she comes here expecting a combination of Charles the First and the Miss Wylies and herself and yourself rolled into one?" "Oh, she'll be satisfied right enough; trust her! I will say that for Fay: she's very easily pleased." "In that case she and I are bound to get on well together," I said, stroking my moustache in order to hide a smile.