s," I said, "unless your uncle in
New York has left you anything----"

"Oh," she burst out, laughing as she said it, "he's dead, Britten;
besides, I don't want any uncles now, for I shall marry Mr. Sarand
directly Lord Badington gives his consent--and that won't be long, for
we are going down to his house to-night to get it."

I told her frankly that I was glad to hear it, and that I thought Mr.
Sarand a very lucky gentleman. What's more, I believed her story, and
I knew that if this marriage came off, there would not be much trouble
about my firm's seventy-five, and that half the tradesmen in London
would be running after Dolly again inside a week. So I made up my mind
to do it, and, sending a wire back to the yard, telling them that the
lady wanted the car for two or three days, and explaining to her that I
must buy myself some luggage as she went--for I do like a clean collar
of evenings--I was ready for Miss Phyllis More, and not at all
displeased with the venture.

"She'd been hard put to it to keep going in London, while John did the
courting," said I to myself, "and that's what caused her to change her
name. If she doesn't catch him, we're another twenty-five down, and
Moss will have to turn Jew. Well, I can get plenty of jobs as good as
his, and there aren't many Dolly St. Johns in the world, all said and
done. I'll risk it, and take my gruelling afterwards. What's more, if
Mr. John's papa don't come up to the scratch, I'll put a word in for
myself. It would make a line in the newspapers anyway, and who knows
but what we mightn't both get engaged at the halls?"

Of course, this was only my way of putting it; but I really was pleased
to be driving such a pretty girl again; and when her old cane trunk
came down, and we fixed it on to the grid behind, and half a dozen
hat-boxes littered up the back seats, I felt that old times had come
again, and that I was one of the luckiest drivers in the country.

"How far are we going, miss?" I asked her when all was ready.

"To Lord Badington's house--near Sandwich in Kent."

"It's a longish run, and we shan't get there before dark."

"Oh," says she, "they don't expect me until quite late; indeed, I don't
think Lord Badington himself returns before the last train from town."

I noticed that she laid a lot of stress upon the words, "Lord
Badington," for the benefit of the hotel porters, no doubt; but I
wasn't angry with her for that, remembering that she was a