“Austin,” she said suddenly, after a long pause, “I’m going to town to-morrow by the 10.27 train.”

Austin was peeling an apple, intent on seeing how long a strip he could pare off without breaking it.  “Won’t it be very hot?” he asked absently.

“Hot?  Well, perhaps it will,” said Aunt Charlotte, rather nettled at his indifference.  “But I can’t help that.  The fact is that my bankers are giving me a great deal of annoyance just now, and I’m going up to London to have it out with them.”

“Really?” replied Austin, politely interested.  “I hope they haven’t been embezzling your money?”

“Do, for goodness sake, pull yourself together and try not to talk nonsense for once in your life,” retorted Aunt Charlotte, tartly.  “Embezzling my money, indeed!—­I should just like to catch them at it.  Of course it’s nothing of the kind.  But I’ve lately given them certain instructions which they virtually refuse to carry out, and in a case of that sort it’s always better to discuss the affair in person.”

“I see,” said Austin, beginning to munch his apple.  “I wonder why they won’t do what you want them to.  Isn’t it very rude of them?”

“Rude?  Well—­I can’t say they’ve been exactly rude,” acknowledged Aunt Charlotte.  “But they’re making all sorts of difficulties, and hint that they know better than I do——­”

“Which is absurd, of course,” put in Austin, with his very simplest air.

Aunt Charlotte glanced sharply at him, but there was not the faintest trace of irony in his expression.  “I fancy they don’t quite understand the question,” she said, “so I intend to run up and explain it to them.  One can do these things so much better in conversation than by writing.  I shall get lunch in town, and then there’ll be time for me to do a little shopping, perhaps, before catching the 4.40 back.  That will get me here in ample time for dinner at half-past seven.”

“And what train do you go by in the morning?” enquired Austin.

“The 10.27,” replied his aunt.  “I shall take the omnibus from the Peacock that starts at a quarter to ten.”

It cannot be said that Aunt Charlotte’s projected trip to town interested Austin much.  Business of any sort was a profound mystery to him, and with regard to speculations, investments, and such-like matters his mind was a perfect blank.  He had a vague notion that perhaps Aunt Charlotte wanted some money, and that the bankers had refused to give her any; though whether she had a right to demand it, or they a right to withhold it, he had no more idea than the man in the moon.  So he dismissed the whole affair from his mind as something with which he had nothing whatever to do, and spent the evening in the company of Sir Thomas Browne.  At ten o’clock he went forth into the garden, and became absorbed in an attempt to identify the different colours of the flowers in the moonlight.  It proved a fascinating occupation, for the pale, cold brightness imparted