ng one's mother in Kensington Gardens,
near the Speke Monument, and being bowed civilly to, it seems to me
it's high time.... Now, isn't it, Sally?"

Sally evaded giving testimony by raising other questions: "What did
your father say?" "Did the Dragon tell him about the meeting in the
park?" "What do you think he'll say now?"

"Now? Well, you know, I've got his letter. _He's_ all right--and
rather dear, _I_ think. What do _you_ think, Sally?"

"I think very."

"Perhaps I should say very. But with papa you never know. He really
does love us all, after a fashion, except Egerton, only I'm never
sure he doesn't do it to contradict mamma."

"Why don't they chuck each other and have done with it?" The vulgar
child lets fly straight into the bull's-eye; then adds thoughtfully:
"_I_ should, only, then, I'm not a married couple."

Tishy elided the absurd figure of speech and ignored it. The chance
of patronising was not to be lost.

"You are not married, dear. When you are, you may feel things
differently. But, of course, papa and mamma _are_ very odd. I used
to hear them through my door between the rooms at L.B.G. Road. It
was wrangle, wrangle, wrangle; fight, fight, fight; all through the
night--till two o'clock sometimes. Oh dear!"

"You're sure they always were quarrelling?"

"Oh dear, yes. I used to catch all the regular words--settlement and
principal and prevaricate. All that sort of thing, you know. But there
they are, and there they'll be ten years hence, that's my belief,
living together, sleeping together, and dining at opposite ends of the
same table, and never communicating in the daytime except through me
or Theeny, but quarrelling like cat and dog."

"What shall you do when you go back? Go straight there?"

"I think so. Julius thinks so. After all, papa's the master of the
house--legally, at any rate."

"Shall you write and say you're coming?"

"Oh, no! Just go and take our chance. We shan't be any nearer if we
give mamma an opportunity of miffing away somewhere when we come. What
_is_ that little maid talking about there?" The ex-bridesmaid is three
or four yards away, and is discoursing eloquently, a word in the above
conversation having reminded her of a tragic event she has mentioned
before in this story. "I seeps with my bid sister Totey's dolly," is
what she appears to be saying.

"Never mind the little poppet, Tishy, till you've told me more about
it." Sally is full of curiosity. "Did that