"Well, how are you to-day, Harry?" I said.

"All right, thank you."

"Were there many hurt at the quarry?"

"Oh! it wasn't so very bad, I'm happy to say."

"You did splendidly yesterday."

"Oh, nonsense! It was my mare. It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it."

"Well! well! you have my full permission to say so, and to think so, too."

"Well! well! say no more about it."

So it was long before the subject was again alluded to by me. But it will
be long, too, before it is forgotten in that county.

And so the evening came when we were to meet--for the last time as the
Story-telling club--at the schoolmaster's house. It was now past the time
I had set myself for returning to London, and although my plans were never
of a very unalterable complexion, seeing I had the faculty of being able
to write wherever I was, and never admitted chairs and tables, and certain
rows of bookshelves, to form part of my mental organism, without which the
rest of the mechanism would be thrown out of gear, I had yet reasons for
wishing to be in London; and I intended to take my departure on the day
but one after the final meeting.--I may just remark, that before this time
one or two families had returned to Purleybridge, and others were free