l him so."

But I never had time. I was much too fully occupied with other things.

Next day, after a morning bathe and paddle on the sands and early
dinner, we started for a long afternoon's ramble round Eastnor, to get
some idea of the place, leaving the two youngest children with the
servant, with strict injunctions not to get drowned, and to get their
tea whenever they felt like it.

We did Eastnor thoroughly, and then, noticing that there was a concert
on the pier that night, my wife suggested tea at a confectioner's, and
an adjournment to the pier afterwards for the concert. This was carried
with acclaim. We enjoyed the tea, the concert, and the stroll home, and
arrived at Sandybank Cottage about ten o'clock, fully satisfied with our
day's outing.

Amelia met us at the door. She was in a state of extreme nervous
excitement.

"Thank goodness you come 'ome!" she burst out.

She was unfortunate in the place of her birth and up-bringing, was
Amelia. To judge from her accent she must have been born right up in the
steeple of Bow Church. Otherwise she was a sterling girl. I will tone
down her vernacular: it does not spell easily.

"Sich a dye I never had. Seems to me we'd better git away 'ome's quick's
we can," she began.

"Why, Amelia, what's the matter?" asked her mistress.

"Matter?" said Amelia, with rising inflection. "Well, there's been a
party of three old maiden ladies, with three dawgs, and two kinaries,
and a parrick in a cage, all a-settin' cryin' on their boxes outside
here all day long since half an hour after you left, a-waitin' for you
to come back and go out of this 'ouse and let 'em come in. They say they
took it from August 14 for a month, and paid a dee-posit, and they was
to come in to-day. And the kitching fire was to be ready lighted, an'--"

"And there was to be coal, and bread, and milk in the house, and oil for
the lamps, and they'd paid for them," said I.

"My! Did you hear 'em?"

"No," I said, "I didn't."

"And what did you do, Amelia?" asked my wife, anxiously.

"I just told 'em straight that we was 'ere for a month, and there must
be some mistake, seein' as we wasn't a-goin' out till our time was up,
and then they just set down and cried, and the parrick swore awful till
they covered him up. He belonged to a nevew what was a sailor man, they
said, when he begun to swear, and I told the children to run inside lest
they'd catch it. Then they was so misrable settin' there, dabb