sight of a
dark, tall form by the fire on waking. But a minute or two after
it was gone, and John was back again.

'Ready for breakfast?' he asked.

Benson was soon at his porridge, and debating as to whether he
should finish with eggs or chops.

'You'd better have what you really care for,' said John, and
stepped outside and gave a call.

'Who's that gypsy-looking fellow?' asked Benson.

'Oh, he helps me,' said John. 'He's all right.' He went out of
the hut and received a dish from somebody as he spoke.

It was after breakfast that Benson made a request. 'I believe I
know where I am,' he said. 'Though I'm not quite sure, because my
head's still dizzy. I believe I'm back again in High Wood, just
near Hawkenbury, not two miles from my old home. What do you
think?'

'I don't think I know that country,' said John, looking
uncomfortable. 'And I'm sure I've never been here before.'

'I remember,' Percy Benson said, 'there used to be a little
grocer's shop down in Hawkenbury Street, where they sold mixed
biscuits, with lots of pink and white and yellow sugar, and
glass-stoppered ginger-beer. I haven't forgotten the taste,
though it's years ago. Do you think you could go down there, or
send somebody, and get me a bottle of ginger-beer and a pound of
biscuits. They're just what I'd fancy.'

John looked doubtful. 'I know a place that isn't so very far off,
where they keep groceries,' he said. 'But I don't know whether
they keep ginger-beer in glass-stoppered bottles, or if they keep
that particular sort of biscuits. However, we'll try.'

Benson slept a good deal that day. He talked between whiles
rather feverishly about the place, and how glad he was to be back
there again. John said very little, but that seemed not to
matter. Benson was glad enough to ramble on and on. He did not
appear to take much notice whether you answered his questions or
not. He was ecstatic rather than curious.

The biscuits came and were a fair success.

'Not quite so good as they used to be, but very good,' said
Benson. 'I like these sugar ones immensely; the ones with the
pink sugar are the pick.' But the ginger-beer was not of the
time-honored brand. It was drinkable enough, but it had a cork
tied, instead of a long cool mouth with a glass stopper.

'I must walk down and do some shopping for myself to-morrow,'
Benson said. 'What a summer we're having. Did you ever see such
blue sky as we've had yesterday and to-day?'

Next morni