The fly started. Mr. and Mrs. Channing and Charley inside, Hamish on the box with the driver. Tom galloped to the station on foot. Of course the boys were eager to see them off. But Arthur, in his refined sensitiveness, would not put himself forward to make one of them; and no one asked him to do so. The train was on the point of starting. Mr. and Mrs. Channing were in their places, certain arrangements having been made for the convenience of Mr. Channing, who was partially lying across from one seat to the other; Hamish and the others were standing round for a last word; when there came one, fighting his way through the platform bustle, pushing porters and any one else who impeded his progress to the rightabout. It was Roland Yorke. “Haven’t I come up at a splitting pace! I overslept myself, Mr. Channing, and I thought I should not be in time to give you a God-speed. I hope you’ll have a pleasant time, and come back cured, sir!” “Thank you, Roland. These heartfelt wishes from you all are very welcome.” “I say, Mr. Channing,” continued Roland, leaning over the carriage window, in utter disregard of danger: “If you should hear of any good place abroad, that you think I might do for, I wish you’d speak a word for me.” “Place abroad?” repeated Mr. Channing, while Hamish burst into a laugh. “Yes,” said Roland. “My brother George knew a fellow who went over to Austria or Prussia, or some of those places, and dropped into a very good thing there, quite by accident. It was connected with one of the embassies, I think; five or six hundred a year, and little to do.” Mr. Channing smiled. “Such windfalls are rare. I fear I am not likely to hear of anything of the sort. But what has Mr. Galloway done to you, Roland? You are a fixture with him.” “I am tired of Galloway’s,” frankly confessed Roland. “I didn’t enjoy myself there before Arthur left, but I am ready to hang myself since, with no one to speak to but that calf of a Jenkins! If Galloway will take on Arthur again, and do him honour, I’ll stop and make the best of it; but, if he won’t--” “Back! back! hands off there! Are you mad?” And amidst much shouting, and running, and dragging careless Roland out of danger, the train steamed out of the station. CHAPTER XXXI. -- ABROAD. A powerful steamer was cutting smoothly through the waters. A large expanse of sea lay around, dotted with its fishing-boats, which had come out with the night’s tide. A magnificent vessel, her spars glittering in the rising sun, might be observed in the distance, and the grey, misty sky, overhead, gave promise of a hot and lovely day.