u can
get," was the philosophic rejoinder.

"I suppose your people were very sorry to part with you. My poor
mother cried for nearly three days; my sister, I know, will miss me
dreadfully. This is not sheer vanity, as you might suppose, but we
have always done things together--and there is only a year between us."

"Well, my mother did not cry much, and I have no sisters to mourn for
me."

"No sisters," she echoed, as if the fact struck hot as unusual.

"No, nor brothers either--only cousins."

"Sometimes they do just as well; are they pretty?"

"No," he answered rather curtly, as Cossie's round complacent face rose
before his mental eye.

After a short pause he changed the topic and asked:

"Do you ride, Miss Leigh?"

"Yes, but not since we've come to London; I love riding. In the
country, in father's lifetime, I rode a cob--he went in the cart, too;
he was such a dear, but very tricky; once or twice he ran away with me;
I didn't tell father, because I knew I'd never again be allowed to ride
alone, and I do enjoy riding by myself."

"I'm sorry to hear that, for if I can rise to the price of a gee, I was
hoping you would allow me to join you occasionally."

"I should be delighted, but----" and she hesitated.

"Oh, yes," he added quickly, "I know what you are going to say: 'How
about a chaperon?'"

"Perhaps they don't keep chaperons in Rangoon?"

"Oh, yes, my dear, they do," declared Mrs. Maitland, who, as she joined
them, had overheard the last remark, "and extra fierce specimens, I can
assure you! Miss Leigh, they want me to sing Gounod's 'Ave Maria,' so
will you be an angel and come and play my accompaniment?"

As Miss Leigh was always ready to be "an angel" at a moment's notice,
she offered no resistance when Mrs. Maitland took her by the arm and
led her away to the music-room.

Shafto and Miss Leigh were usually among the first to appear on deck,
both being early risers; she, in order to leave a clear field for Mrs.
Milward's prolonged toilet, and the elaborate operations of her clever
maid. The pretty grey hair had to be taken out of pins, brushed,
back-combed and deftly arranged, as the frame to its owner's beaming
and youthful face. Lacing, buttoning and hooking also absorbed
considerable time.

As for Shafto, he was no lie-a-bed. Even in those dark, raw winter
days at Lincoln Square, when breakfast was served by electric light, he
was always punctual, and one of the first to descend