wards a small waggonette.

VI.

THE VANISHING GOVERNESS.

The house of Breck was a mansion of tolerable antiquity as mansions
went in the islands, and several curious stories had already had time
to encrust it, like lichen on an aged wall. But none of them were
stranger than the quite up-to-date and literally true story of the
vanishing governess.

Richard Craigie, Esq., of Breck, the popular, and more or less
respected, laird of the mansion and estate, was a stout grey-bearded
gentleman, with a twinkling blue eye, and one of the easiest-going
dispositions probably in Europe. His wife, the respected, and more or
less popular, mistress of the mansion, was lean and short, and very
energetic. Their sons were employed at present like everybody else's
sons, and do not concern this narrative. But their two daughters, aged
fifteen and fourteen, were at home, and do concern it materially.

It was only towards the end of July that Mrs Craigie thought of having
a governess for the two girls during the summer holidays. With a
letter in her hand, she bustled into Mr Craigie's smoking-room, and
announced that her friend Mrs Armitage, in Kensington, knew a lady who
knew a charming and well-educated girl--

"And who does she know?" interrupted her husband.

"Nobody," said Mrs Craigie. "She is the girl."

"Oh!" said the laird. "Now I thought that she would surely know
another girl who knows a woman, who knows a man----"

"Richard!" said his wife. "Kindly listen to me!"

It had been her fate to marry a confirmed domestic humourist, but she
bore her burden stoically. She told him now simply and firmly that the
girl in question required a holiday, and that she proposed to give her
one, and in return extract some teaching and supervision for their
daughters.

"Have it your own way, my dear. Have it your own way," said he. "It
was economy yesterday. It's a governess to-day. Have you forced the
safe?"

"Which safe?" demanded the unsuspecting lady.

"At the bank. I've no more money of my own, I can tell you. However,
send for your governess--get a couple of them as you're at it!"

The humourist was clearly so pleased with his jest that no further
debate was to be apprehended, and his wife went out to write the
letter. Mr Craigie lit his sixteenth pipe since breakfast and chewed
the cud of his wit very happily.

A fortnight later he returned one evening in the car, bringing Miss
Eileen Holland, with he