d Merton.

'They are both happy, but I did not manage my fortunate conclusion in my
own way. When young Mr. Warren had moderated the transports of his
gratitude we were in the suburbs of Bulcester, where the mill-owners live
in houses of the most promiscuous architecture: Tudor, Jacobean, Queen
Anne, Bedford Park Queen Anne, _chalets_, Chineseries, "all standing
naked in the open air," for the trees have not grown up round them yet.
Then we came to a gate without a lodge, the cabman got down and opened
it, and we were in the visible presence of Mr. Warren's villa. The style
is the Scottish Baronial; all pepper-pots, gables and crowsteps.

'"What a lovely old place!" I said to my companion. "Have you secret
passages and sliding panels and dark turnpike stairs? What a house for
conspiracies! There is a real turret window; can't you fancy it suddenly
shot up and the king's face popped out, very red, and bellowing,
'Treason!'"

'At that moment, when my imagination was in full career, the turret
window _was_ shot up, and a face, very red, with red whiskers, was popped
out.

'"That is my father," said young Mr. Warren; and we alighted, and a very
small maidservant opened the portals of the baronial hall, while the
cabman carried up my trunk, and Mr. Warren, senior, greeted me in the
hall.

'"Welcome to Bulcester!" he said, with a florid air, and "hoped James and
I had made friends on the way," and then he actually winked! He is a
widower, and I was dying for tea, but there we sat, and when the little
maid came in, it was to say that a gentleman wanted to see Mr. Warren in
the study. So he went out, and then, James being the victim of
gratitude, I took my courage in both hands and asked if I might have tea.
James said that they usually had it after the lecture was over, which
would not be till nine, and that some people had been asked to meet me.
Then I knew that I was got among a strange, outlandish race who eat
strange meats and keep High Teas, and my spirit fainted within me.

'"Oh, Mr. James!" I said, "if you love me have a cup of tea and some
bread-and-butter sent up to my room, and tell the maid to show me the way
to it."

'So he sent for her, and she showed me to the best spare room, with
oleographs of Highland scenery on the walls, and coloured Landseer
prints, and tartan curtains, and everything made of ormolu that can be
made of ormolu. In about twenty minutes the girl returned with tea and
poached e