to-morrow."

He flashed me one brief, blue glance. I wondered if he guessed I'd a
plan in my mind. Anyhow, he fell in with it. For, as he shook hands for
good-bye with both of us, he said to Million: "Will you allow me to call
on you there?"

Million, looking overjoyed but flustered, turned to me. Evidently I was
to answer again.

I said sedately: "I am sure Miss Million will be glad to let you call."

"When?" said the young bank manager rather peremptorily.

I made a rapid mental calculation. I ought to be able to get Million
suitably clad for receiving admirers-to-be in about--yes, four days.

I said: "On Thursday afternoon, at about five, if that suits you."

"Admirably," said the young man whom I have selected to marry Million.
"Au revoir!"

CHAPTER IX

WE MOVE INTO NEW QUARTERS

THE HOTEL CECIL, June, 1914.

I'VE taken the first step towards setting up my new employer, Miss
Million, as a young lady of fortune.

That first step was--new luggage!

New clothes we could do without for a little longer (though not for much
longer. I'm quite firm about that).

But new, expensive-looking trunks Miss Million must have. It would be
absolutely impossible for "Miss Million and Maid" to make their
appearance at a big London hotel with the baggage which had witnessed
their exit from the Putney villa. My brown canvas hold-all and her tin
trunk with the rope about it--what did they make us look like? Irish
emigrants!

"Nice luggage is the mark of a lady," was one of my Aunt Anastasia's
many maxims.

So we spent the morning in Bond Street, buying recklessly and wildly at
Vuitton's and at that place where you get the "Innovation" trunks that
look like a glorified wardrobe--all hangers and drawers. I did all the
ordering. Million stood by and looked like a scared kitten. When the
time came she signed the cheques and gasped, "Lor', Miss!"

"Million, you're not to say 'Lor''," I ordered her in a stage whisper.

I turned away from the polished shop assistants who, I should think,
must have had the morning of their lives. I wonder what they made of
their customers, the two young women (one with a strong Cockney accent)
who dressed as if from a country rectory jumble sale and who purchased
trunks as if for a duchess's trousseau?

"And you are not to say 'Miss.' Do remember, Million," I urged her. "Now
we'll have a