DEEP WATERS

By W.W. JACOBS




MADE TO MEASURE

Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride.
Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had
been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had
stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of
him. Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his
younger fellow-townsmen.

"You'll find it a bit dull after London, I expect," he remarked, as he
inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street.

"I'm tired of London," said Miss Garland. "I think this is a beautiful
little old town--so peaceful."

Mr. Mott looked gratified.

"I hope you'll stay a long time," he said, as he led the way into the
small front room. "I'm a lonely old man."

His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her.

"Thank you," she said, slowly. "I hope I shall. I feel better already.