ound, by his work, to London--

"Horses is my occupation," he said, "but the ocean's my hobby."

--And derided town, charging it with stuffiness in this month of
August, and moreover empty. He wished he were on the pier at Southend,
or at Margate, or at any place, in fact, where he might see the waves
rolling in and rolling out again, and shy pebbles at them.

"Gertie could have had her holiday this month," remarked Mrs. Mills,
glancing with pride at her niece, "but she preferred not. I don't feel
sure whether she did right or whether she did wrong in giving them up.
There's more unlikely places than a seaside boarding-house to pick up a
future husband." She gave details of a case of a young woman living in
Harrow Road, who, in the summer of 1900, met at Eastbourne a gentleman
with one arm, invalided home from the war; an engagement immediately
followed. Later, the girl discovered he was already married, and that
he had gone away from his wife and children, taking with him the
compensation given to him by his employers, a firm of builders at
Willesden.

"I expect the missy is keeping her eyes open, if the truth was known."

"But no definite results," contended Mrs. Mills. "That's what I
complain of. At her age I had three after me."

"This was long before I came on the scene," explained Mr. Trew to
Gertie; "otherwise there would have been bloodshed. Is this meal _ad
lib._, or do I have to pay extra for another cup of tea?"

"I don't want her to worry about it; I only want her to keep it in
view. What I should like more than anything would be to see a young
man who was fond of her come in here, at a time like this, and take his
piece of bread and butter, fold it, enjoy it, and sing to us
afterwards."

"You're certain about that, aunt?"

"Providing he had a decent voice." The shop bell rang. Mrs. Mills
half rose and recognized the customer. "We are now about to get all
the news of the neighbourhood," she said desolately.

Gertie anticipated her, and, going in, served the lady with a copy of
_Fireside Love Stories_. Returned with an imperative message.

"I shall have to see her," admitted Mrs. Mills. "She won't be happy
until she gets some piece of scandal off her mind."

"Fair one," said Trew, with a wave of his hand, "every moment will seem
like a century until you return!"

Gertie was fixing her newly-trimmed hat with the aid of the mirror, and
Mr. Trew was describing an accident witnessed th