will have to recollect if you wait a few years."

Sir Peter shook his finger at her.

"If you are not careful, young woman, I will put you into them--as I
first remember you, very red and wrinkled."

Mark's and Peggy's stay was short--all too short. Mark settled down
behind the wheel. "London, next," said he. Peggy's face was buried in
roses as they drove off.

When they were seated again, under the trees, Phyllis regarding the baby
with rapt eyes, John's curiosity suggested a question.

"Phyllis, please tell us what you set Mark to talking about. We tried
everything."

"Why, about Peggy, of course," said Phyllis. "Silly! Couldn't you think
of that?"

Mrs. Farquharson had awaited the departure of the Holroyds, and now, in
her best black silk, came out to see the baby, and remained to chat for
a few minutes. Her great news was that the first-floor front was in
stocks again--with a prospect of seeing better days.

"And how is Mr. Rowlandson?" asked Phyllis.

"Odder than ever," replied Mrs. Farquharson. "He is getting a little
childish, I think. The other night he told me the greatest rigmarole
about some collector or other in Birmingham. He collected weapons, of
all things! He had Mr. Rowlandson buy him swords, and daggers, and
spears, and even bows and arrows from America, until his house fairly
rattled with them. Finally, says Mr. Rowlandson, he got him the stone
that David flung at Goliath, and the jawbone that Samson smote the
Philistines with. 'Now,' says he, 'I am looking for the club that Cain
slew Abel with, and then he will be complete.' Did ever you hear such a
farrago? And his eyes twinkling all the time as though he was as
sensible as ever could be! Yesterday I told him I was coming down here
to take tea with Mrs. Burbage. 'With Mrs. Burbage!' says he. 'Well, what
next?' 'Now, heed my words,' says I. 'That woman is not as black as
she's been painted.' And then he laughs. Childish, I say. But he's
terrible down on you, Mr. Landless, because the baby's a boy. 'Mr.
Landless has disappointed me,' says he. 'He knows her name should be
Valentine.' 'But, Mrs. Landless wanted a boy,' says I, 'to call him
Peter'; as she has, bless his darling little heart, that knows his old
Farquharson! 'Well,' says he, 'Mr. Landless put her up to it.'"

When she had returned to Burbage, John and Sir Peter began work on the
proofs of "Recollections of an Engineer." The publishers had wished to
call it "Recollections of a G