ests, saying:

"Harry, have you got an artistic eye? If so, you can assist me with these
flowers. So might Mr Goodchum, if he feels disposed."

Harold accepted the proposal, and remarked:

"What is the matter with your niece? It is the first time I ever saw her
quiet."

"Yes; she is a noisy little article--a perfect whirlwind in the house--but
she is a little tired this afternoon; she has been seeing those sheep
through today."

"Don't you think it would be a good lark if I get something and tickle
her?" said Goodchum.

"Yes, do," said Harold; "but look out for squalls. She is a great little
fizzer."

"Then she might be insulted."

"Not she," interposed auntie. "No one will enjoy the fun more than
herself."

I had my eyes half open beneath the net, so saw him cautiously approach
with a rose-stem between his fingers. Being extremely sensitive to
tickling, so soon as touched under the ear I took a flying leap from the
chair somewhat disconcerting my tormentor.

He was a pleasant-looking young fellow somewhere about twenty, whose face
was quite familiar to me.

He smiled so good-humouredly at me that I widely did the same in return,
and he came forward with extended hand, exclaiming, "At last!"

The others looked on in surprise, Harold remarking suspiciously, "You
said you were unacquainted with Miss Melvyn, but an introduction does
not seem necessary."

"Oh, yes it is," chirped Mr Goodchum. I haven't the slightest idea of the
young lady's name."

"Don't know each other!" ejaculated Harold; and grannie, who had appeared
upon the scene, inquired stiffly what we meant by such capers if
unacquainted.

Mr Goodchum hastened to explain.

"I have seen the young lady on several occasions in the bank where I am
employed, and I had the good fortune to be of a little service to her one
day when I was out biking. Her harness, or at least the harness on the
horse she was driving, broke, and I came to the rescue with my
pocket-knife and some string, thereby proving, if not ornamental, I was
useful. After that I tried hard to find out who she was, but my inquiries
always came to nothing. I little dreamt who Miss Melvyn was when Harry,
telling me she was a Goulburn girl, asked if I knew her."

"Quite romantic," said aunt Helen, smiling; and a great thankfulness
overcame me that Mr Goodchum had been unable to discover my identity
until now. It was right enough to be unearthed as Miss Melvyn,
grand-daughter of Mrs Bo