tated, for I really did not know what Lalage was likely to do.

"I'll lock the door on her, anyway," said the guard.

"You may, but don't flatter yourself that you'll have her safe then.
The only thing you can calculate on in the case of this particular
young lady is that whatever she does will be something that you couldn't
possibly guess beforehand. Not that there's any real harm in her. She's
simply possessed of an adventurous spirit and striking originality.
Good-bye."

I had just time to shake hands with Lalage before the train started. She
waved her pocket handkerchief cheerily to us as we stood together on
the platform. I caught a glimpse of the guard's face while his van swept
past us. It wore a set expression, like that of a man determined in
the cause of duty to go steadily forward into the unknown facing dread
things bravely. I was satisfied that I had made a deep impression on
him and I felt sorry that I had not made up his tip to an even half
sovereign.

The Canon was depressed as we drove home together. I felt it my duty to
cheer him up as much as I could.

"After all," I said, "you've nothing to reproach yourself with.
Miss Battersby has got another situation. She'll be far happier at
Thormanby's than she ever could have been with you. His girls are
thoroughly well brought up."

"She was very fond of Lalage," said the Canon.

"Still, they didn't suit each other. Miss Battersby will get over any
feeling of regret she may have at first. She'll be far more at home with
quiet, well-tamed girls like Thormanby's."

The Canon was not listening to me. I judged from this that it was not
anxiety about Miss Battersby's future that was preying on his mind. I
tried again.

"If it's the thought of that bottle of glycerine and cucumber which is
worrying you," I said, "don't let it. Send her another. Send her two.
Make Tom Kitterick carry them over to Thormanby Park and present them on
bended knee, clad only in his shirt and with a halter round his neck."

The Canon's gloom merely deepened.

"I don't think," I said, "that you need fret about Miss Pettigrew. After
all, it's her job. She must meet plenty of high-spirited girls."

"I wasn't thinking of her," said the Canon.

Then he began to murmur to himself and I was barely able, by leaning
over toward him, to catch the quotation.

"Miserarum est neque amori dare ludem. . . ."

He saw that I was listening and lapsed into English. "There's a
tran