sions of it, was flashing up the wires to the various press
agencies, and running through Southampton like wild-fire. Scarcely were
their feet set upon the quay, when, with a rush and a bound, wild men,
with note-books in their hands, sprang upon them, and beat them down with
a rain of questions. Augusta found it impossible to answer them all at
once, so contented herself with saying, "Yes," "Yes," "Yes," to
everything, out of which mono-syllable, she afterwards found to her
surprise, these fierce and active pressmen contrived to make up a
sufficiently moving tale; which included glowing accounts of the horrors
of the shipwreck, and, what rather took her aback, a positive statement
that she and the sailors had lived for a fortnight upon the broiled
remains of Mr. Meeson. One interviewer, being a small man, and,
therefore, unable to kick and fight his way through the ring which
surrounded Augusta and Mrs. Thomas, seized upon little Dick, and
commenced to chirp and snap his fingers at him in the intervals of asking
him such questions as he thought suitable to his years.

Dick, dreadfully alarmed, fled with a howl; but this did not prevent a
column and a half of matter, headed "The Infant's Tale of Woe," from
appearing that very day in a journal noted for the accuracy and
unsensational character of its communications. Nor was the army of
interviewers the only terror that they had to face. Little girls gave
them bouquets; an old lady, whose brain was permeated with the idea that
shipwrecked people went about in a condition of undress for much longer
than was necessary after the event, arrived with an armful of
under-clothing streaming on the breeze; and last, but not least, a tall
gentleman, with a beautiful moustache, thrust into Augusta's hand a note
hastily written in pencil, which, when opened, proved to be an _offer of
marriage_!

However, at last they found themselves in a first-class carriage, ready
to start, or rather starting. The interviewing gentlemen, two of whom
had their heads jammed through the window, were forcibly drawn
away--still asking questions, by the officials--the tall gentleman with
the moustache, who was hovering in the background, smiled a soft
farewell, in which modesty struggled visibly with hope, the
station-master took off his cap, and in another minute they were rolling
out of Southampton Station.

Augusta sank back with a sigh of relief, and then burst out laughing at
the thought of the g