This communication was received in profound silence.

Renouard forgot himself in the thought: "It's done!" But the
sight of the string of boys marching up to the house with suit-
cases and dressing-bags rescued him from that appalling
abstraction.

"All I can do is to beg you to make yourselves at home . . . with
what patience you may."

This was so obviously the only thing to do that everybody moved on
at once. The professor walked alongside Renouard, behind the two
ladies.

"Rather unexpected--this absence."

"Not exactly," muttered Renouard. "A trip has to be made every
year to engage labour."

"I see . . . And he . . . How vexingly elusive the poor fellow has
become! I'll begin to think that some wicked fairy is favouring
this love tale with unpleasant attentions."

Renouard noticed that the party did not seem weighed down by this
new disappointment. On the contrary they moved with a freer step.
The professor's sister dropped her eye-glass to the end of its
chain. Miss Moorsom took the lead. The professor, his lips
unsealed, lingered in the open: but Renouard did not listen to
that man's talk. He looked after that man's daughter--if indeed