picturesque surroundings."

"I am glad you did not," she answered. "Who advised you to go on to
the Cheltenham?"

"Miss Putney," said I. "Her father's place is between here and
Walford. I stopped there night before last." And then, as I was glad
of an opportunity to prolong the interview, I told her the history of
my adventures at that place.

Mrs. Chester was amused, and I thought I might as well tell her how I
came to be delayed on the road and so caught in the storm, and I
related my experience with Miss Burton. I would have been glad to go
still farther back and tell her how I came to take the school at
Walford, and anything else she might care to listen to.

When I told her about Miss Burton she sat down in a chair near by and
laughed heartily.

"It is wonderfully funny," she said, "that you should have met those
two young ladies and should then have stopped here."

"You know them?" I said, promptly taking another chair.

"Oh yes," she answered. "I know them both; and, as I have mentioned
that your meeting with them seemed funny to me, I suppose I ought to
tell you the reason. Some time ago a photographer in Walford, who has
taken a portrait of me and also of Miss Putney and Miss Burton, took
it into his head to print the three on one card and expose them for
sale with a ridiculous inscription under them. This created a great
deal of talk, and Miss Putney made the photographer destroy his
negative and all the cards he had on hand. After that we were talked
about as a trio, and, I expect, a good deal of fun was made of us. And
now it seems a little odd--does it not?--that you have become
acquainted with all the members of this trio as soon as you left
Walford. But I must not keep you in this way." And she rose.

Now was my opportunity to make known my desire to be kept, but before
I could do so the boy hurriedly came into the room.

"The Dago wants to see you," he said. "He's in an awful hurry."

"Excuse me," said Mrs. Chester. "It is that Italian who was singing
outside last night. I thought he had gone. Would you mind waiting a
few minutes?"

It was getting harder and harder to enunciate my proposition to make a
sojourn at the inn. I wished that I had spoken sooner. It is so much
easier to do things promptly.

While I was waiting the elderly woman came in. "Do you want the boy to
take your little bag out and strap it on?" said she.

Evidently there was no want of desire to speed the departing guest