lt, and went down to luncheon. She
didn't know where Fergus Appleton's table was, but she would make her
seat face his. Then she could smile thanks at him over the
mulligatawny soup, or the filet of sole, or the boiled mutton, or the
apple tart. Even the Bishop of Bath and Wells couldn't object to
that!

V

Their friendship grew perceptibly during the next two days, though
constantly under the espionage of the permanent guests of the Bexley
Sands Inn, but on Wednesday night Miss Tucker left for Torquay,
according to schedule. Fergus Appleton remained behind, partly to make
up arrears in his literary work, and partly as a sop to decency and
common sense. He did not deem it either proper or dignified to escort
the young lady on her journey (particularly as he had not been asked
to do so), so he pined in solitary confinement at Bexley until
Saturday morning, when he followed her to the scene of her labors.

After due reflection he gave up the idea of the claque, and rested
Tommy's case on the knees of the gods, where it transpired that it was
much safer, for Torquay liked Tommy, and the concert went off with
enormous eclat. From the moment that Miss Thomasina Tucker appeared on
the platform the audience looked pleased. She wore a quaint dress of
white flounced chiffon, with a girdle of green, and a broad white hat
with her old mignonette garland made into two little nosegays perched
on either side of the transparent brim. She could not wear the
mignonette that Appleton had sent to her dressing-room, because she
would have been obscured by the size of the offering, but she carried
as much of it as her strength permitted, and laid the fragrant bouquet
on the piano as she passed it. (A poem had come with it, but Tommy did
not dare read it until the ordeal was over, for no one had ever
written her a poem before. It had three long verses, and was signed
"F.A."--that was all she had time to note.)

A long-haired gentleman sitting beside Appleton remarked to his
neighbor: "The girl looks like a flower; it's a pity she has such a
heathenish name! Why didn't they call her Hope, or Flora, or Egeria,
or Cecilia?"

When the audience found that Miss Tucker's singing did not belie her
charming appearance, they cast discretion to the winds and loved her.
Appleton himself marveled at the beauty of her performance as it
budded and bloomed under the inspiration of her fellow artists and the
favor of the audience, and the more he