"Eustace is returning to England on Saturday," said Mrs. Hignett. She
spoke a little wistfully. She had not been parted from her son since he
had come down from Oxford; and she would have liked to keep him with
her till the end of her lecturing tour. That, however, was out of the
question. It was imperative that, while she was away, he should be at
Windles. Nothing would have induced her to leave the place at the
mercy of servants who might trample over the flower-beds, scratch the
polished floors, and forget to cover up the canary at night. "He sails
on the _Atlantic_."

"That's splendid," said Sam. "I'm sailing on the _Atlantic_ myself.
I'll go down to the office and see if we can't have a state-room
together. But where is he going to live when he gets to England?"

"Where is he going to live? Why, at Windles, of course. Where else?"

"But I thought you were letting Windles for the summer?"

Mrs. Hignett stared.

"Letting Windles!" She spoke as one might address a lunatic. "What put
that extraordinary idea into your head?"

"I thought father said something about your letting the place to some
American."

"Nothing of the kind!"

It seemed to Sam that his aunt spoke somewhat vehemently, even
snappishly, in correcting what was a perfectly natural mistake. He