esently he said--

"Then you like her."

"Rather!" said my father vehemently, and shaking George by the hand. But
he said nothing about the nuggets and the sovereigns, knowing that Yram
did not wish him to do so. Neither did George say anything about his
determination to start for the capital in the morning, and make a clean
breast of everything to the King. So soon does it become necessary even
for those who are most cordially attached to hide things from one
another. My father, however, was made comfortable by receiving a promise
from the youth that he would take no step of which the persons he had
named would disapprove.

When once Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter had been introduced there was no
more talking about Hanky and Panky; for George began to bubble over with
the subject that was nearest his heart, and how much he feared that it
would be some time yet before he could be married. Many a story did he
tell of his early attachment and of its course for the last ten years,
but my space will not allow me to inflict one of them on the reader. My
father saw that the more he listened and sympathised and encouraged, the
fonder George became of him, and this was all he cared about.

Thus did they converse hour after hour. They passed the Blue Pool,
without seeing it or even talking about it for more than a minute. George
kept an eye on the quails and declared them fairly plentiful and strong
on the wing, but nothing now could keep him from pouring out his whole
heart about Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter, until towards noon they caught
sight of the statues, and a halt was made which gave my father the first
pang he had felt that morning, for he knew that the statues would be the
beginning of the end.

There was no need to light a fire, for Yram had packed for them two
bottles of a delicious white wine, something like White Capri, which went
admirably with the many more solid good things that she had provided for
them. As soon as they had finished a hearty meal my father said to
George, "You must have my watch for a keepsake; I see you are not wearing
my boots. I fear you did not find them comfortable, but I am glad you
have not got them on, for I have set my heart on keeping yours."

"Let us settle about the boots first. I rather fancied that that was why
you put me off when I wanted to get my own back again; and then I thought
I should like yours for a keepsake, so I put on another pair last night,
and the