'Certainly not,' says she, 'this is my last one' (gradually raising it
to her lips), 'not unless you say, you thought of me, all the time.'

'Oh, well, if you must! I thought of no one but you, I saw you in every
one I met, even the gardener.'

'That's rude,' she says, 'but you may as well have this,' extending to
him the coveted strawberry, with an adorable smile.

'What a silly child you are,' is all the thanks she gets.

But some one has driven up, in a very old fly, to the front door and Mrs
Dalrymple is watching to see who it is.

'Chubby,' she exclaims as a man gets out clothed in an extraordinary
check suit. 'No one else could have clothes like that.' There is no
doubt about its being Lord Helmdon, he has caught sight of them and is
coming towards them, looking decidedly hot and dusty.

'Do look at him,' says Paul, though there is absolutely no need, as they
are all gazing at him.

'Hullo,' says Jimmy, 'who would have thought of seeing you here!'

'Eh! what,' is the inevitable answer.

'Dear Mrs Dalrymple,' he goes on, shaking her vigourously by the hand,
'I am stopping not far from here,--I thought you would not mind my
coming over to see you, what!'