The consequence of this conversation was that Weston sent his telegram, and then promptly forgot all about it in the interest of his infernal aerial tramp. Cannington did not reply, so I wrote him a long letter, detailing my conversation with the inventor, and pointing out that Lady Mabel was the dream of the little man's life. So she was, in a way, although Weston had a queer method of showing it. My letter crossed another one from Cannington, and I learned that the party had returned to England sooner than was expected. Thus Weston's wire to Florence had not reached Lady Mabel. I posted another explanation to Cannington, and Weston, during the course of the week before Christmas, received a hasty note from the boy, saying that he was bringing down his sister to see--me. This made Dicky furious. "Good Lord!" he grumbled, "are you in love with Mabel?" "Considering that I have introduced you to my future wife, how can I be?" "Then why does Cannington bring her to see you, confound you?" "Because you have behaved badly to his sister." "I haven't. I asked her to marry and she----" "Very rightly refused to have you. Weston, you are a complete ass. Leave me to arrange this matter, and when you get the chance throw yourself at Mabel's feet and let her trample on you." "I'll do whatever you like," said Weston, who was about as much in love as a man divided between science and humanity well could be. The result of my efforts came about in due course. Cannington appeared on the scene in a walking kit, along with his sister, and announced that they were stopping at the Buckingham Hotel, Tarhaven, for a few days. The boy looked very well after his foreign tour, and Lady Mabel was as blooming as a rose. Weston being as usual in his yard attending to his darling airship, I gave Cannington and the girl afternoon tea, and we had a long chat, which included news on both sides. "Mabel got an offer from an Italian count," said Cannington gaily. "And I refused," replied Mabel. "I have made up my mind to be an old maid." "You look like the sort that become old maids," I retorted, admiring her fresh comeliness, "and Weston will have a word to say to that." Mabel set her mouth obstinately. "I sha'n't accept Dicky," she said, with a fine access of color; "he seems to think he has only to ask and to have." "Well, then, he found that he asked and didn't get," I said teasingly; "he has been punished enough, Mabel, and loves you desperately. He can't get on with his work for thinking of you. Accept him, my dear girl, and then, the matter being settled, he can attend to his work." "If I accept him I shall have to be his work," said Mabel wrathfully. "I am not going to be neglected for his airship. But let us leave Dicky alone for the present. If he asks me again, I might--mind you, I don't say that I will--but I might box his ears and accept him. Meanwhile, what about Miss Monk? I am dying to see her."