luded behind the window curtains--appeared,
at a sign from his wife. One of his plump red hands held a bundle of
cigars. The other clutched an enormous new travelling-flask--the giant
of its tribe.

"My dear boy, it's possible there may be good brandy and cigars on
board; but that's not my experience of steamers--is it yours?" He
stopped to consult his wife. "My dear, is it yours?" Mrs. Gallilee held
up the "Railway Guide," and shook it significantly. Mr. Gallilee went on
in a hurry. "There's some of the right stuff in this flask, Ovid, if you
will accept it. Five-and-forty years old--would you like to taste it?
Would you like to taste it, my dear?" Mrs. Gallilee seized the "Railway
Guide" again, with a terrible look. Her husband crammed the big flask
into one of Ovid's pockets, and the cigars into the other. "You'll find
them a comfort when you're away from us. God bless you, my son! You
don't mind my calling you my son? I couldn't be fonder of you, if I
really was your father. Let's part as cheerfully as we can," said poor
Mr. Gallilee, with the tears rolling undisguisedly over his fat cheeks.
"We can write to each other--can't we? Oh dear! dear! I wish I could
take it as easy as Maria does. Zo! come and give him a kiss, poor
fellow. Where's Zo?"

Mrs. Gallilee made the discovery--she dragged Zo into view, from under
the table. Ovid took his little sister on his knee, and asked why she
had hidden herself.

"Because I don't want to say good-bye!" cried the child, giving her
reason with a passionate outbreak of sorrow that shook her from head
to foot. "Take me with you, Ovid, take me with you!" He did his best to
console her, under adverse circumstances. Mrs. Gallilee's warning voice
sounded like a knell--"Time! time!" Zo's shrill treble rang out louder
still. Zo was determined to write to Ovid, if she was not allowed to go
with him. "Pa's going to write to you--why shouldn't I?" she screamed
through her tears. "Dear Zoe, you are too young," Maria remarked.
"Damned nonsense!" sobbed Mr. Gallilee; "she _shall_ write!" "Time,
time!" Mrs. Gallilee reiterated. Taking no part in the dispute, Ovid
directed two envelopes for Zo, and quieted her in that way. He hurried
into the hall; he glanced at the stairs that led to the drawing-room.
Carmina was on the landing, waiting for a farewell look at him. On
the higher flight of stairs, invisible from the hall, Miss Minerva was
watching the scene of departure. Reckless of railway