man.

The girl testifies:--"Her Glorious Angel. When we first went into the
Cottage. What she said was:--'Here comes my Glorious Angel!' Well!--why
shouldn't she?"

"She _always_ calls her that," says the young man.

"You see, my dear! It has not struck anyone but yourself as anything the
least out of the way." Mrs. Pellew then explains to her daughter, not
without toleration for an erratic judgment--to wit, her husband's--that
that gentleman has got a nonsensical idea into his head that old Mrs.
Marrable is not quite.... Oh no--not that she is _failing_, you
know--not at all!... Only, perhaps, not so clear as.... Of course, very
old people sometimes do....

The girl looks at the young man for his opinion. He gives it with a
cheerful laugh. "What!--Granny Marrowbone off her chump? As sound as you
or I! She's called Lady Torrens her Glorious Angel ever since I can
recollect. Oh no--_she's_ all right." Whereupon Mr. Pellew says:--"I
see--sort of expression. Very applicable, as things go. Oh no--no reason
for alarm! Certainly not!"

"You know," says the girl, Cis--who is new, and naturally knows things,
and can tell her parents,--"you know there is never the slightest reason
for apprehension as long as there is no delusion. Even then we have to
discriminate carefully between fixed or permanent delusions and...."

"Shut up, mouse!" says her father. "What's that striking?"

The young man looks at his watch--is afraid it must be seven. The elder
supposes that some of the party don't want to be late for dinner. The
young lady says:--"Well--I got it all out of a book." And her mother
says:--"Now, please don't dawdle any more. Go the short way, and see for
the carriage." Whereupon the young people make off at speed up the steps
to the terrace, and a brown bear on the top of his pole thinks they are
hurrying to give him a bun, and is disillusioned. Mr. Pellew accompanies
his wife, but as they go quick they do not talk, and the story hears no
further disconnected chat. Nor does it hear any more when the turnstiles
are passed and the carriage is reached.

Soon out of sight--that carriage! And with it vanishes the last chance
of knowing any more of Dave and Dolly and their country Granny. And when
the present writer went to look for Sapps Court, he found--as he has
told you--only a tea-shop, and the tea was bad.

But if ever you go to Chorlton-under-Bradbury, go to the churchyard and
hunt up the graves of old Mrs. Picture