“Yes, sir.  Shall I tell Gustavus to pack your things?”

“Certainly not.”

The Prophet was turning towards the library when Mr. Ferdinand added,—­

“When shall we expect you back, sir?  Am I to forward your letters?”

“No, no.  I shall return in a few hours.”

“Oh, I beg pardon, sir.  And if any telegrams—­”

“There will not be any.  I am now going to answer the telegrams in person.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come along, my children,” cried the Prophet, putting his head into the library.

“Not your children, if you please, Mr. Vivian,” replied the little boy.  “Corona, come on.”

“How do we go, my dears?” asked the Prophet, with an attempt at gaiety, and endeavouring to ignore the prostrated demeanour of Mr. Ferdinand, who was in waiting to open the hall door.

“By the purple ’bus as far as the Pork Butcher’s Rest,” piped the little boy—­(at this point Mr. Ferdinand could not refrain from a slight exclamation)—­“then we take the train to the Mouse, Mouse, Mouse.”

“Mus, Mus, Mus,” chanted the little girl.

As Mr. Ferdinand was unable to open the door, paralysis having apparently supervened, the Prophet did so, and the cheerful little party emerged upon the step to find Lady Enid Thistle in the very act of pressing the electric bell.  When she beheld the vivacious trio, all agog for their morning’s expedition, come thus suddenly upon her, she cried out musically,—­

“Why, where are you off to?”

The Prophet was much embarrassed by the encounter.

“I am taking these lit”—­he caught the staring eye of
Capricornus—­“these friends of mine for a little walk,” he said.

“I’ll come with you,” said Lady Enid, with an almost Highland decision.  “I’ve got something to say to you, and we can talk as we go.”

She glanced very inquisitively indeed at the two children, who had begun to frisk at sight of the square all bathed in winter sunshine.  The Prophet was very much upset.

“Don’t you think—­” he began.

“It will be delightful to have some exercise,” she interrupted firmly.  “Which way are you going?”

“Which way!  Oh, to—­towards—­”

The Prophet stopped.  He did not know from what point the purple ’bus started to gain the Pork Butcher’s Rest.  Capricornus hastened to inform him.

“We take the purple ’bus at the corner of Air Street,” he piped.

“The purple ’bus!” cried Lady Enid.  “The purple bus!”

She glanced searchingly at the Prophet.

“Ah!” she murmured, “so you are taking a purple ’bus to your double life!”

He could not deny it.  They were now all walking forward in the sun and as the little Corona and Capricornus became speedily intent upon the wonders of this central district, Lady Enid and the Prophet were able to have a quiet word or two together.

“I came to tell you,” she said, “that Mrs. Vane Bridgeman will expect you to-night at—­”