ich usually ended in his carrying to her some little present
of flowers, or something like that, having presented which, he would
turn and talk to Nan.

'I say, Beresford,' he suddenly observed, one night at dinner, 'I have
an invitation to go salmon-fishing in Ireland. Will you come?'

'Well, but----' Madge interposed with an injured air, as if she ought
to have been consulted first.

'I should like it tremendously!' said Mr. Tom, with a rush.

'I am told the scenery in the neighbourhood is very fine,' continued
Captain King; 'at all events we are sure to think so half a dozen years
hence. That is one of the grand points about one's memory; you forget
all the trivial details and discomforts, and only remember the best.'

He quite naturally turned to Nan.

'I am sure, Miss Nan,' he said, 'you have quite a series of beautiful
little pictures in your mind about that Splugen excursion. Don't you
remember the drive along the Via Mala, in the shut-up carriage--the
darkness outside--and the swish of the rain----'

'Well,' said Madge, somewhat spitefully, 'considering you were in a
closed carriage and driving through darkness, I don't see much of a
beautiful picture to remember!'

He did not seem to heed. It was Nan he was addressing; and there was a
pleased light in her eyes. Reminiscences are to some people very
delightful things.

'And you recollect the crowded saloon in the Splugen inn, and the snug
little corner we got near the stove, and the little table. That's
where you discovered the use of stupid people at dinner-parties----'

'What's that?' Mr. Tom demanded to know.

'It's a secret,' Captain King answered, with a laugh. 'And I think you
were rather down-hearted next morning--until we began to get up through
the clouds. That is a picture to remember at all events--a Christmas
picture in summer time. Do you remember how green the pines looked
above the snow? And how blue the sky was when the mist got driven
over? And how business-like you looked in your ulster--buttoned up to
the chin for resolute Alpine work. I fancy I can hear now the very
chirp of your boots on the wet snow--it was very silent away up there.'

'I know,' said Nan, somewhat shamefacedly, 'that when I saw
"_Ristoratore_" stuck up on the house near the top, I thought it was a
place for restoring people found in the snow, until I heard the driver
call out "_Du, hole Schnapps_."'

'Wasn't that a wild whirl down the other side!'