“No, miss,” said George, who refused, even in the teeth of Ronny, to recognize her as anything but a slip of a girl, “we’re going for a drive of my own; just dawdling about a bit like, and nowhere in particular.” “Jolly!” she said, sniffing up the pure air as if she loved it, and with that delightful quality of enjoyment in her voice which acts like an elixir on surrounding company. “Do you know, I mean to come up here every year to drink the waters, for I’ve got to _love_ the place!” George looked delighted as he glanced round to see if all his cargo was aboard, but as usual everyone was waiting for the inevitable person who is _always_ late, and who will probably be late for his own funeral if he can possibly manage it. “Most people who come here once, come again, miss,” said George, twisting the lash of his whip into a knot. “There’s one gentleman who never misses a season, and I was going to ask you, as a favor, if you’d mind his coming on the box-seat this morning? He ’most always had it last year. I told him I must ask a lady’s consent, so we’re to pick him up outside the Pump-room if you’re quite agreeable.” “Is he fat?” said the girl dubiously, and feeling that her drive would be quite spoiled. “He’s as slight as a poplar,” said George, his face lightening up, “and he’s a gentleman, miss, and you can’t say more than that. There’s so few of ’em about nowadays!” The cargo was now complete. The miscellaneous crowd that daily assembled to witness the departure of the coach fell back, the horses stretched out into a gallop, and skirting the hotel garden, with its lounging seats, and cheerful awnings, rounded the corner with a flourish, emerging on the Stray with a musical horn-blowing that made Ronny, in the distance, hold up his little flushed face to his mother, and wave the bat he was so very seldom allowed to use. The girl waved and kissed her hand lovingly to the boy, and the nigger appropriating the compliment to himself, and promptly returning the same, while he also tried to combine business and pleasure by hitting a ball, lost his balance, and sat down in a large puddle. Quaint and varied were the aspects of life afforded by the Stray, that curious piece of ground secured to the townspeople forever, that in some parts almost resembles a fair; while in others, ancient trees shut in stately houses that have all the dignity and peace of a cathedral close. In the open a band was playing, nigger minstrels were performing, children played, old maids cackled, pigeons flocked, fortune-tellers plied their craft, and old couples sat side by side like puffins, warming themselves in the sun. Even in this inevitable groaning Salvation Army lasses and lads were there, combining piety and wealth with that astuteness which is so distinguishing a feature of their peculiar religion.