Dick, he had grown out of all recollection.

"It was a good many years ago," returned the said Dick, hastening to
disprove the slur of youthfulness. "It was just before I went to
Sandhurst. But you haven't changed. I knew you at once."

"On leave, I suppose?" suggested Sir Lionel.

"No," said Dick, "I'm not in the army. Failed. Truth is, I didn't want
to get in. Wasn't cut out for it. There's only one profession I care
for."

"What's that?" the Dragon was obliged to ask, out of politeness, though
I don't think he cared much.

"The fact is," returned Mr. Burden (a most appropriate name, according
to my point of view), "it's rather a queer one, or might seem so to you,
and I've promised the mater I won't talk of it unless I do adopt it. And
I'm over here qualifying, now."

It was easy to see that he hoped he'd excited our curiosity; and he must
have been disappointed in Sir Lionel's half-hearted "Indeed?" As for me,
I tried to make my eyes look like boiled gooseberries, an unenthusiastic
fruit, especially when cooked. I was delighted with the Dragon, though,
for not introducing him.

Having said "indeed," Sir Lionel added that we must be getting
on--luggage to see to; his valet a foreigner, and more bother than use.
I took my cue, and pattered along by my guardian's side, his tall form a
narrow yet impassable bulwark between me and Mr. Dick Burden. But Mr. D.
B. pattered too, refusing to be thrown off.

He asked Sir Lionel if he were staying on in Paris; and in the short
conversation that followed I picked up morsels of news which hadn't been
given me yet. It appeared that the Dragon's sister (who would suspect a
dragon of sisters?) had wired to Marseilles that she would meet him in
Paris, and he "expected to find her at an hotel." He didn't say what
hotel, so it was evident Mr. Dick Burden need not hope for an invitation
to call. Apparently our plans depended somewhat on her, but Sir Lionel
"thought we should get away next day at latest." There was nothing to
keep him in Paris, and he was in a hurry to reach England. I was glad to
hear that, for fear some more coincidences might happen, such as meeting
Madame de Maluet or one of the teachers holiday-making. Conscience does
make you a coward! I never noticed mine much before. I wish you could
take anti-conscience powders, as you do for neuralgia. Wouldn't they
sell like hot cakes?

At last Mr. Dick Burden had to go away without getting the introduction
he wante