seen George, and George you, and that you took to one another.  I am glad my husband has seen you; he has spoken to me about you very warmly, for he has taken to you much as George did.  I am very, very glad to have seen you myself, and to have learned what became of you—­and of your wife.  I know you wish well to all of us; be sure that we all of us wish most heartily well to you and yours.  I sent for you and George, because I could not say all this unless we were alone; it is all I can do,” she said, with a smile, “to say it now.”

Indeed it was, for the tears were in her eyes all the time, as they were also in my father’s.

“Let this,” continued Yram, “be our leave-taking—­for we must have nothing like a scene upstairs.  Just shake hands with us all, say the usual conventional things, and make it as short as you can; but I could not bear to send you away without a few warmer words than I could have said when others were in the room.”

“May heaven bless you and yours,” said my father, “for ever and ever.”

“That will do,” said George gently.  “Now, both of you shake hands, and come upstairs with me.”

* * * * *

When all three of them had got calm, for George had been moved almost as much as his father and mother, they went upstairs, and Panky came for his answer.  “You are very possibly right,” said my father—­“the version you hold to be corrupt is the one in common use amongst ourselves, but it is only a translation, and very possibly only a translation of a translation, so that it may perhaps have been corrupted before it reached us.”

“That,” said Panky, “will explain everything,” and he went contentedly away.

My father talked a little aside with Mrs. Humdrum about her grand-daughter and George, for Yram had told him that she knew all about the attachment, and then George, who saw that my father found the greatest difficulty in maintaining an outward calm, said, “Mr. Higgs, the streets are empty; we had better go.”

My father did as Yram had told him; shook hands with every one, said all that was usual and proper as briefly as he could, and followed George out of the room.  The Mayor saw them to the door, and saved my father from embarrassment by saying, “Mr. Higgs, you and I understand one another too well to make it necessary for us to say so.  Good-bye to you, and may no ill befall you ere you get home.”

My father grasped his hand in both his own.  “Again,” he said, “I can say no more than that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

As he spoke he bowed his head, and went out with George into the night.

CHAPTER XXV:  GEORGE ESCORTS MY FATHER TO THE STATUES; THE TWO THEN PART

The streets were quite deserted as George had said they would be, and very dark, save for an occasional oil lamp.

“As soon as we can get within the preserves,” said George, “we had better wait till morning.  I have a rug for myself as well as for you.”