"Thanks, no, I am engaged." He said good-by and walked on.

"Queer fellow that," said the Colonel, looking after him. "He got into
some money troubles in India, left the army, and got converted. Now he
is not exactly a Salvation soldier, but something of the kind. He'll be
at you one of the days for a subscription to convert the crossing
sweepers or some such undertaking. But you'll dine with me to-morrow.
I'll tell you all the Clayshire gossip."

"Thank you, I shall be very happy."

"Then good-by for the present, I am engaged to lunch to meet one of the
prettiest little widows you ever saw in your life, but she has no cash.
Here, hansom," calling to the driver of a cab which was passing slowly.
"I am a little late." He jumped in and drove off.

His friend, with a slight grave smile, continued his walk to the
Alexandria Hotel, the portals of which received him.


Meantime the hero of the cab incident sat very demurely by his young
aunt, as the omnibus rolled slowly up Park Lane, occasionally stealing
inquisitive glances at her face.

"You have been a _very_ naughty boy, Cecil!" she exclaimed as her eyes
met his. "How could I have gone home to mamma if I had been obliged to
leave you behind?"

"But you needn't, you know; you could have tied me up in a bundle and