ent melancholy.

Ada had slipped a hand, clad in crimson silk, through Leander's arm as
they groped through the gloom together, and shrank to his side now and
then in an alarm which was only half pretended. But if her light
pressure upon his arm made his heart beat at all the faster, it was only
at the fancy that the trusting hand was his Matilda's, or so at least
did he account for it to himself afterwards.

They followed on, down a broad promenade, where the ground glistened
with autumn damps, and the unlighted lamps looked wan and spectral.
There was a bear-pit hard by, over the railings of which Ada leaned and
shouted a defiant "Boo;" but the bears had turned in for the night, and
the stone re-echoed her voice with a hollow ring. Indistinct bird forms
were roosting in cages; but her umbrella had no effect upon them.

Jauncy was waiting for them to come up, perhaps as a protection against
his _fiancee's_ reproaches. "In another hour," he said, with an implied
apology, "you'll see how different this place looks. We--we're come a
little too early. Suppose we fill up the time by a nice little dinner at
the Restorong--eh, Ada? What do you think, Tweddle?"

The suggestion was received favourably, and Jauncy, thankful to retrieve
his reputation as leader, took them towards the spot where food was to
be had.

Presently they saw lights twinkling through the trees, and came to a
place which was clearly the focus of festivity. There was the open-air
theatre, its drop-scene lowered, its proscenium lost in the gloom;
there was the circle for _al-fresco_ dancing, but it was bare, and the
clustered lights were dead; there was the restaurant, dark and silent
like all else.

Jauncy stood there and rubbed his chin. "This is where I dined when we
were here last," he said, at length; "and a capital little dinner they
gave us too!"

"What _I_ should like to know," said the elder Miss Parkinson, "is,
where are we to dine to-night?"

"Yes," said Jauncy, encouragingly; "don't you fret yourself, Bella.
Here's an old party sweeping up leaves, we'll ask him."

They did so, and were referred to a large building, in the Gothic style,
with a Tudor doorway, known as the "Baronial All," where lights shone
behind the painted windows.

Inside, a few of the lamps around the pillars were lighted, and the body
of the floor was roped in as if for dancing; but the hall was empty,
save for a barmaid, assisted by a sharp little girl, behind the