it towards the solitary occupant of the garden, as he entered the gate.  “Haw, you sir,” he called out to him; “is this, haw, Mr. Corrothers’ plaice?” Coristine was nettled at the style of address, but commanded himself to reply as briefly as possible that it was.  “Miss Morjorie Cormichael stoying here?” continued the stage passenger.  “Miss Carmichael is here,” responded the lawyer.  “Haw, I thort so.  Just you run in now, will you, ond tell Miss Morjorie thot on old friend wonts to speak to her.”  The lawyer was getting furious, in spite of himself.  Taking his pipe out of his pocket, and proceeding to fill it with all apparent deliberation and calmness, he replied:  “So far as I have the honour of Miss Carmichael’s acquaintance, she is not in the habit of receiving visitors out of doors.  There are both bell and knocker on the door before you, which servants will probably answer; but, if that door doesn’t suit you, you will probably find others at the back.”  With this ungracious speech, he turned on his heel, lit his pipe, and puffed vigorously along the path towards the meadow gate.  Then, he strolled down the hill and met the returning fishers, the two youngest in Mr. Bigglethorpe’s arms, and with their arms about his neck.  Coristine indulged in a kissing bee with the rest of them, so as to assure himself that he was the true old friend, the genuine Codlin, while the other man was Short.  “Marjorie,” he said, as that fishing young lady clung to him, “there’s a duffer of a dude, with an eye-glass, up at the house, who says he’s an old friend of your cousin Marjorie; do you know any old friend of hers?” Marjorie stopped to think, and, after a little pause, said:  “It can’t be Huggins.”  “Who is Huggins, Marjorie?” asked the lawyer.  “He’s the caretaker of Marjorie’s school.”

“Oh no, this dude is too young and gorgeous for a caretaker.”

“Then, I think I know; its Orther Lom.”

“Who is Orther Lom?”

“I don’t know; only Auntie Marjorie said, she wouldn’t be astonished if Orther Lom was to come and find cousin Marjorie out, even away up here.  It must be Orther Lom.”

This was all the information the lawyer could obtain; so he and Marjorie joined Mr. Bigglethorpe and the other anglers, and talked about making domestic sardines and smelts of the chub and dace they had caught.

The summons to tea greeted the wanderers before they had had time to cleanse their hands of fishy odours; consequently Mr. Bigglethorpe and the lawyer were a minute or two late.  They found the man of the eye-glass seated on one side of Miss Carmichael, and, as she beckoned the fisherman to the other, she introduced her protege to him as Mr. Arthur Lamb, a very old friend.  Miss Halbert made way for Coristine beside her, and he congratulated her on the doctor’s reappearance at the table.

“Mr. Coristine,” said Miss Carmichael, and the lawyer, with a somewhat worn society face, looked across.