op with me for
ever.'

I kissed her fluffy forehead. 'You good, generous little Elsie,' I
cried; 'I won't stop here one moment after I have finished the painting
and papering. I came here to help you. I couldn't go on eating your
hard-earned bread and doing nothing. I know how sweet you are; but the
last thing I want is to add to your burdens. Now let us roll up our
sleeves again and hurry on with the dado.'

'But, Brownie, you'll want to be getting your own things ready.
Remember, you're off to Germany on Monday.'

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Tis a foreign trick I picked up in
Switzerland. 'What have I got to get ready?' I asked. 'I can't go out
and buy a complete summer outfit in Bond Street for twopence. Now, don't
look at me like that: be practical, Elsie, and let me help you paint the
dado.' For unless I helped her, poor Elsie could never have finished it
herself. I cut out half her clothes for her; her own ideas were almost
entirely limited to differential calculus. And cutting out a blouse by
differential calculus is weary, uphill work for a high-school teacher.

By Monday I had papered and furnished the rooms, and was ready to start
on my voyage of exploration. I met the Cantankerous Old Lady at Charing
Cross, by appointment, and proceeded to take charge of her luggage and
tickets.

Oh my, how fussy she was! 'You will drop that basket! I hope you have
got through tickets, _via_ Malines, _not_ by Brussels-- I won't go by
Brussels. You have to change there. Now, mind you notice how much the
luggage weighs in English pounds, and make the man at the office give
you a note of it to check those horrid Belgian porters. They'll charge
you for double the weight, unless you reduce it at once to kilogrammes.
_I_ know their ways. Foreigners have no consciences. They just go to the
priest and confess, you know, and wipe it all out, and start fresh again
on a career of crime next morning. I'm sure I don't know why I _ever_ go
abroad. The only country in the world fit to live in is England. No
mosquitoes, no passports, no--goodness gracious, child, don't let that
odious man bang about my hat-box! Have you no immortal soul, porter,
that you crush other people's property as if it was blackbeetles? No, I
will not let you take this, Lois; this is my jewel-box--it contains all
that remains of the Fawley family jewels. I positively decline to appear
at Schlangenbad without a diamond to my back. This never leaves my
hands. It's h