iddelburg, as if I had not slept at all, but had listened throughout
the night to the sweet, the incredibly sweet chimes that floated like
perfume in the air. Yet I suppose I must have slept, for the bells had
sometimes stopped playing their one melodious tune, to tinkle in my
dreams, "One for you, and one for you, but never, _never_ one for me?"

The hotel is a nice hotel, and there is a garden. After breakfast, I was
so tired of brotherliness, of beaming at happy couples, and hearing
plans about weddings, that instead of going forth to see the famous
Thursday Middelburg sights, at which the world comes from afar to gaze,
I slipped away and hid in the garden.

Phyllis and Robert were out together. Rudolph and Nell were out
together. Both parties conscientiously believed that they were out for
sight-seeing; that their object was to behold matrons and maidens in
white caps, quaint fichus, meek, straight bodices, and swelling skirts;
to admire pretty faces, with tinkling gold ornaments at their temples;
to stare at young arms, red under incredibly tight short sleeves, as
they bore baskets of eggs or pats of butter to market. How well I knew
the whole scene from photographs!--the bell-like figures of the women;
the booths in the big market square; and the cool arcades of the
butter-market. How well I knew, too, that neither Phyllis and Robert,
nor Rudolph and Nell would see anything at all, or remember it, if by
accident they did see aught save each other.

"This," I said to myself, "is the end. We may go back to Rotterdam
together, if we like. But everything's as much changed as if it were
another party. And this, this is what I've slaved for--fibbed
for--plotted for! 'Giving agreeable girls away!' Faugh!" I felt as much
injured as if I were a misunderstood saint, though, when one comes to
look at it, perhaps I have not always played precisely the part of
saint.

While I lolled gloomily on an extremely uncomfortable seat, not meant
for lolling, I heard a faint rustling in the grass behind me, and Tibe
appeared, to lay his head, in a matter-of-course way, upon my knee.

"Where's your mistress?" I asked mechanically. "Have you changed, too,
like all the rest, and left her alone?"

"Here I am," answered the L.C.P., as if the question had been addressed
to her. "I thought you'd be in the garden, so I came to find you. Why
don't you go out and see things?"

"Why don't you?" I echoed.

"Because I didn't like to feel th