hurriedly, was somewhat taken aback to behold so
radiant a patient.

"I fainted!" cried Pixie proudly. "I never fainted before in all my
life. I don't remember a single thing after I slipped, until I woke up
on this sofa."

"Indeed!--and a very sensible arrangement. Just as well to know nothing
about these disagreeable experiences."

The doctor smiled, and fingered her head with a careful touch. "Does
that hurt you? No? Does that? Do you feel any tenderness there? A
little bit, eh? You don't like me to press it? You probably grazed
yourself slightly as you fell, and that caused the `faint.' Nothing
serious, though. You need not be frightened."

"I like it!" said Pixie stoutly, and the burst of laughter with which
the two hearers greeted this statement, sounded pleasantly in the
Captain's ears as he dressed himself in the lock-keeper's Sunday
garments in the room overhead.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

LOVERS' MEETINGS.

The doctor saw no reason why Pixie should not be driven home, and
offered to order a closed carriage in the village, and pending its
arrival, the adventurers enjoyed another cup of tea, not smoked this
time, and made merry over the change in their appearance, wrought by the
borrowed clothing.

Pixie's red merino dress was the pride of little Miss Lock-keeper's
heart, but about two sizes too big for its present occupant. The bodice
hung in folds about her tiny figure, the sleeves came down to her
finger-tips; the Captain's shiny black suit made him appear quite clumsy
and awkward, but that was all part of the fun, in the estimation of
three members of the party, at least.

Mrs Wallace was undecided whether to laugh or to cry as she welcomed
her truants and listened to the story of their adventures. Nothing
would satisfy her but to despatch Pixie to bed forthwith, to that young
lady's intense mortification, and to order the Captain upstairs to have
a hot bath and a dose of quinine. When he came downstairs, she was
putting a letter in the post-box in the hall, and, motioning towards it,
explained its purport.

"I've been writing to Mamzelle's sister in London. These lock accidents
get into the papers sometimes, and are generally exaggerated into
something really so thrilling and terrible. It's best to tell the true
story ourselves."

"And I have brought this trouble upon you! I could kick myself for my
stupidity. You will never trust me again, but please make me the
scapegoat