s that you don't in the least know what
you're talking about." A sound of voices came from the shop, and
Gertie flushed. "Now it's no use your getting hot-tempered about it,"
he went on. "You speak your mind to me, and I'm entitled to speak my
mind to you. What you suffer from is nothing more nor less than sheer
ignorance. Imperfect education; that's what the complaint is called."

"Gertie!" A call from the shop.

"Yes, aunt."

"Do come here just a moment. Here's the strangest coincidence I ever
came across." Gertie obeyed with signs of nervousness. "This young
gentleman tells me that he knows Ewelme, and he's actually been inside
the house where I was born!"

"How do you do?" said Gertie.

"And he's going down there again shortly," went on Mrs. Mills with
animation, "and he means to bring me back some roses from the garden.
Isn't it good of him?"

"Your daughter is fond of flowers?"

"She's only my niece," explained Mrs. Mills volubly. "Her mother
kicked the bucket some years ago, and her father--What's Wallingford
like now, sir? I've said over and over again that I'd one day take the
Great Western to go and have a look and see what alterations had been
made. But," regretfully, "it's never been anything more than talk.
I'd like Gertie to see the place though, so that she could tell whether
it comes up to my description."

He seemed inclined to make an impetuous offer, but a brief shake of the
girl's head arrested him. A boy entered and asked for an evening
newspaper, and Gertie attended to the transaction.

"By the bye," turning to the stationery counter, "I want one or two
magazines." Their heads came closely together as a selection was being
made; she whispered a caution not to stay too long. In a louder voice,
Gertie announced that the total cost was two shillings and sixpence.
Mrs. Mills beamed across from the tobacco counter, and asked whether he
knew who was keeping "The Lamb"; Henry Douglass could not supply the
information, but guaranteed to obtain particulars, and bring them to
Praed Street. Mrs. Mills declared herself ashamed to give so much
trouble.

"Are you in business, sir, may I ask?"

"I am, in a very small way, an architect."

"Really?" said Gertie interestedly.

"But," said Mrs. Mills, "you're not wearing a white tie!"

"She's thinking of an archbishop," remarked Bulpert, coming forward.
"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Daresay you know me by
name." He