"I suppose Miss Sleaford--I suppose they're all out," the surgeon said, rather dolefully. "I suppose they _are_ out," Sigismund answered, looking about him with a puzzled air; "and yet, that's strange. They don't often go out; at least, not all at once. They seldom go out at all, in fact, except on errands. I'll call the girl." He opened the door and looked into the front parlour before going to carry out this design, and he started back upon the threshold as if he had seen a ghost. "What is it?" cried George. "My luggage and your portmanteau, all packed and corded; look!" Mr. Smith pointed as he spoke to a couple of trunks, a hatbox, a carpet-bag, and a portmanteau, piled in a heap in the centre of the room. He spoke loudly in his surprise; and the maid-of-all-work came in with her cap hanging by a single hair-pin to a knob of tumbled hair. "Oh, sir!" she said, "they're all gone; they went at six o'clock this evenin'; and they're going to America, missus says; and she packed all your things, and she thinks you'd better have 'em took round to the greengrocer's immediant, for fear of being seized for the rent, which is three-quarters doo; but you was to sleep in the house to-night, if you pleased, and your friend likewise; and I was to get you your breakfastes in the morning, before I take the key round to the Albany Road, and tell the landlord as they've gone away, which he don't know it yet." "GONE AWAY!" said Sigismund; "GONE AWAY!" "Yes, sir, every one of 'em; and the boys was so pleased that they would go shoutin' 'ooray, 'ooray, all over the garding, though Mr. Sleaford swore at 'em awful, and did hurry and tear so, I thought he was a-goin' mad. But Miss Isabel, she cried about goin' so sudden and seemed all pale and frightened like. And there's a letter on the chimbley-piece, please, which she put it there." Sigismund pounced upon the letter, and tore it open. George read it over his friend's shoulder. It was only two lines. "DEAR MR. SMITH,--Don't think hardly of us for going away so suddenly. Papa says it must be so. "Yours ever faithfully, "ISABEL." "I should like to keep that letter," George said, blushing up to the roots of his hair. "Miss Sleaford writes a pretty hand." CHAPTER IV. THE END OF GEORGE GILBERT'S HOLIDAY. The two young men acted very promptly upon that friendly warning conveyed in Mrs. Sleaford's farewell message. The maid-of-all-work went to the greengrocer's, and returned in company with a dirty-looking boy--who was "Mrs. Judkin's son, please, sir"--and a truck. Mrs. Judkin's son piled the trunks, portmanteau, and carpet-bag on the truck, and departed with his load, which was to be kept in the custody of the Judkin family until the next morning, when Sigismund was to take the luggage away in a cab. When this business had been arranged, Mr. Smith and his friend went out into the garden and talked of the surprise that had fallen upon them.