nd it's all for to
keep an eye on a chap I've never seen."

"And not for me?"

"You silly chu--I beg your pardon, miss--that is, my dear! What I do
mean is, who are you gettin' at? Of _course_, it's for you, and I'm
going through with it. But I do think you might give me a bit of
encouragement like, when you come at last----"

He paused; there was the sound of steps coming down the road, and he had
no wish to be overheard courting. Thus drawn back to real life,
conscience pricked him, and he wondered if there was any danger of Mrs.
Peters reappearing. In a panic he looked over his shoulder.... No! the
lawn was deserted: he still had time. But when he turned to the hedge he
was surprised to see his love with her head pushed right through the
privet, scarlet from excitement. A hand, too, appeared, enjoining
caution and silence.

You must have recognized ere this that Brown, the odd-job man beneath
the thrall of Mrs. Peters, was none other than Mr. Henry Brown,
cab-proprietor, under different auspices. You will remember, then, the
type of man he was but a few chapters ago, middle-aged, reserved,
cautious and a little unenterprising. But you will not forget that love
had made a change in his habits, outlook and elan. He was younger now,
more alert, audacious and full of guile. So you must not be surprised
that when he saw his lady beckoning, appealing to him to come closer, be
careful, not talk, but observe--when he saw her head (and it was a very
pretty head) framed in harmonious privet--when he saw this gift of
fortune, you must not be surprised that he accepted it. He drew near and
kissed her very quietly but very heartily. She, for some obscure reason
wishing to remain unseen, did not dare to withdraw her head or box his
ears. All she could do was to bite her lip and stamp her dainty heel,
while she remained, ostrich-like, in the hedge.

The footsteps passed, but before they began to grow fainter Henry Brown
repeated the salutation. "Couldn't help it!" he said meekly, answering
the sparkle in her eyes. "You shouldn't tempt a man. Now, what's the
row?"

She was too excited to rebuke him; the moment was too precious to be
lost. "You see him?" she queried, pointing to the retreating figure of
Lionel, who was on the road to The Quiet House. "Well, that is the man
you are to watch! That is he from whom you are to recover the document!"

"The deuce it is!" said Henry, gazing after Lionel with interest. "Well,
he's bi