of London--its thoughts, feelings, and manners--which rendered
him in Susan's eyes a perfect miracle of intelligence; and she listened
to his drolleries and precocious wisdom with open-mouthed admiration.
Of course the urchin was quite aware of this, and plumed himself not a
little on his powers of attraction.

"Yes," continued Gillie, without remarking on Susan's observation that
he was a "queer boy," for he esteemed that a compliment "the Count is
the only man among 'em who hasn't falled in love with nothink or nobody.
But tell me, Susan, is _your_ fair buzzum free from the--the tender--
you know what?"

"Oh! yes," laughed the maid, "quite free."

"Ah!" said Gillie, with a sigh of satisfaction, "then there's hope for
_me_."

"Of course there is plenty of hope," said Susan, laughing still more
heartily as she looked at the thing in blue and buttons which thus
addressed her.

"But now, tell me, where are they talking of going to-day?"

"To the Jardang," replied Gillie. "It was putt off to please the young
ladies t'other day, and now it's putt on to please the Professor. It
seems to me that the Professor has got well to wind'ard of 'em all--as
the Cappen would say; he can twirl the whole bilin' of 'em round his
little finger with his outlandish talk, which I believe is more than
half nonsense. Hows'ever, he's goin' to take 'em all to the Jardang, to
lunch there, an' make some more obserwations and measurements of the
ice. Why he takes so much trouble about sitch a trifle, beats _my_
understandin'. If the ice is six feet, or six hundred feet thick, what
then? If it moves, or if it don't move, wot's the odds, so long as yer
'appy? If it _won't_ move, w'y don't they send for a company of London
bobbies and make 'em tell it to `move on,' it couldn't refuse, you know,
for nothin' can resist that. Hows'ever, they are all goin' to foller
the lead of the Professor again to-day--them that was with 'em last
time--not the Count though, for I heard him say (much to the distress
apperiently of his darter) that he was goin' on business to Marteeny,
over the Tait Nwar, though what that is _I_ don't know--a mountain, I
suppose. They're all keen for goin' _over_ things in this country, an'
some of 'em goes _under_ altogether in the doin' of it. If I ain't
mistaken, that pleasant fate awaits Lord what's-'is-name an' Mr
Lumbard, for I heard the Cappen sayin', just afore I come to see you,
that he was goin' to take his Lord