"your father to write some letters for us."

"But what's he got to do with it?"

"I don't want to complain of your father, Celia, but it seems to me that
he is not doing his fair share. There ought to be a certain
give-and-take in the matter. _I_ find you a nice church to be married
in--good. _He_ finds you a nice place to honeymoon in--excellent. After
all, you are still his daughter."

"All right," said Celia, "I'll ask father to do it. 'Dear Mrs. Bunn, my
little boy wants to spend his holidays with you in June. I am writing to
ask you if you will take care of him and see that he doesn't do anything
dangerous. He has a nice disposition, but wants watching.'" She patted
my head gently. "Something like that."

I got up and went to the writing-desk.

"I can see I shall have to do it myself," I sighed. "Give me the address
and I'll begin."

"But we haven't quite settled where we're going yet, have we?"

I put the pen down thankfully and went back to the sofa.

"Good! Then I needn't write to-day, anyhow. It is wonderful, dear, how
difficulties roll away when you face them. Almost at once we arrive at
the conclusion that I needn't write to-day. Splendid! Well, where shall
we go? This will want a lot of thought. Perhaps," I added, "I needn't
write to-morrow."

"We had almost fixed on England, hadn't we?"

"Somebody was telling me that Lynton was very beautiful. I should like
to go to Lynton."

"But _every one_ goes to Lynton for their honeymoon."

"Then let's be original and go to Birmingham. 'The happy couple left for
Birmingham, where the honeymoon will be spent.' Sensation."

"'The bride left the train at Ealing.' More sensation."

"I think the great thing," I said, trying to be businesslike, "is to
fix the county first. If we fixed on Rutland, then the rest would
probably be easy."

"The great thing," said Celia, "is to decide what we want. Sea, or
river, or mountains, or--or golf."

At the word golf I coughed and looked out of the window.

Now I am very fond of Celia--I mean of golf, and--what I really mean, of
course, is that I am very fond of both of them. But I do think that on a
honeymoon Celia should come first. After all, I shall have plenty of
other holidays for golf ... although, of course, three weeks in the
summer without any golf at all---- Still, I think Celia should come
first.

"Our trouble," I said to her, "is that neither of us has ever been on a
honeymoon before, and so we've no