acknowledged; exchanging good-humoured
inquiries or congratulations with almost every third person.

Scarcely had the train dashed up before Mrs. Ponsonby was startled by a
shout of 'He's there himself! Louis! Louis!' and felt, as well as
saw, the springing ascent to the box of a tall apparition, in a scanty
lilac cotton dress, an outgrown black mantle, and a brown straw bonnet,
scarcely confining an overprofusion of fair hair. Louis let go the
reins to catch hold of both hands, and cry, 'Well, old Giraffe! what
have you done with Jem?'

'Seeing to the luggage! You won't let him turn me out! I must sit
here!'

'You must have manners,' said Louis; 'look round, and speak rationally
to Mrs. Ponsonby.'

'I never saw she was there!' and slightly colouring, the 'Giraffe'
erected her length, turned round a small insignificant face slightly
freckled, with hazel eyes, as light as if they had been grey; and
stretched down a hand to be shaken by her new relation, but she was
chiefly bent on retaining her elevation.

'There, Jem!' she cried exultingly, as he came forth, followed by the
trunks and portmanteaus.

'Madcap!' he said; 'but I suppose the first day of the holidays must be
privileged. Ha! Fitzjocelyn, you're the right man in the right place,
whatever Clara is.'

So they drove off, James sitting by Mrs. Ponsonby, and taking care to
inform her that, in spite of her preposterous height, Clara was only
sixteen, he began to ask anxious questions as to Fitzjocelyn's
recovery, while she looked up at the pair in front, and thought, from
the appearance of things, that even Louis's tongue was more than
rivalled, for the newcomer seemed to say a sentence in the time he took
in saying a word. Poor Mrs. Ponsonby! she would not have been happier
had she known in which pair of hands the reins were!

'And Louis! how are you?' cried Clara, as soon as this point had been
gained; 'are you able to walk?'

'After a fashion.'

'And does your ankle hurt you?'

'Only if I work it too hard. One would think that lounging had become
a virtue instead of a vice, to hear the way I am treated.'

'You look--' began Clara. 'But oh, Louis!' cried she, in a sort of
hesitating wonder, 'what! a moustache?'

'Don't say a word:' he lowered his voice. 'Riding is against orders,
but I cannot miss the Yeomanry, under the present aspect of affairs.'

'The invasion! A man in the train was talking of the war steamers, but
Jem laughed. Do