"No--the day," answered Felix, making a face at her. "It's the kind of day one feels inclined to adopt Sydney Smith's advice, by getting out of one's skin, and letting the wind whistle through one's bones." "With such a hot wind blowing," said Peterson, gravely, "I'm afraid they'd soon be broiled bones." "Go, giddy one," retorted Felix, throwing his hat at him, "or I'll drag you into the blazing sun, and make you play another game." "Not I," replied Peterson, coolly. "Not being a salamander, I'm hardly used to your climate yet, and there is a limit even to lawn tennis;" and turning his back on Rolleston, he began to talk to Julia Featherweight. Meanwhile, Madge and her lover, leaving all this frivolous chatter behind them, were walking slowly towards the house, and Brian was telling her of his approaching departure, though not of his reasons for it. "I received a letter last night," he said, turning his face away from her; "and, as it's about some important business, I must start at once." "I don't think it will be long before we follow," answered Madge, thoughtfully. "Papa leaves here at the end of the week." "Why?" "I'm sure I don't know," said Madge, petulantly; "he is so restless, and never seems to settle down to anything. He says for the rest of his life he is going to do nothing; but wander all over the world." There suddenly flashed across Fitzgerald's mind a line from Genesis, which seemed singularly applicable to Mr. Frettlby--"A fugitive and a vagabond thou shalt be in the earth." "Everyone gets these restless fits sooner or later," he said, idly. "In fact," with an uneasy laugh, "I believe I'm in one myself." "That puts me in mind of what I heard Dr. Chinston say yesterday," she said. "This is the age of unrest, as electricity and steam have turned us all into Bohemians." "Ah! Bohemia is a pleasant place," said Brian, absently, unconsciously quoting Thackeray, "but we all lose our way to it late in life." "At that rate we won't lose our way to it for some time," she said laughing, as they stepped into the drawing-room, so cool and shady, after the heat and glare outside. As they entered Mr. Frettlby rose from a chair near the window. He appeared to have been reading, for he held a book in his hand. "What! Fitzgerald," he exclaimed, in a hearty tone, as he held out his hand; "I am glad to see you." "I let you know I am living, don't I?" replied Brian, his face flushing as he reluctantly took the proffered hand. "But the fact is I have come to say good-bye for a few days." "Ah! going back to town, I suppose," said Mr. Frettlby, lying back in his chair, and playing with his watch chain. "I don't know that you are wise, exchanging the clear air of the country for the dusty atmosphere of Melbourne." "Yet Madge tells me you are going back," said Brian, idly toying with a vase of flowers on the table. "Depends upon circumstances," replied the other carelessly. "I may and I may not. You go on business, I presume?"