ive son. "You may want to send a
message."

So in a moment Father was on his bike and Oswald on the step--a
dangerous but delightful spot--and off to the Cedars.

"Have your teas; and _don't_ any more of you get lost, and don't sit up
if we're late," Father howled to them as we rushed away. How glad then
the thoughtful Oswald was that he was the eldest. It was very cold in
the dusk on the bicycle, but Oswald did not complain.

At the Cedars my father explained in a few manly but well-chosen words,
and the apartment of the dear departed bride was searched.

"Because," said my father, "if H.O. really was little ass enough to get
into that basket, he must have turned out something to make room for
himself."

Sure enough, when they came to look, there was a great bundle rolled in
a sheet under the bed--all lace things and petticoats and ribbons and
dressing-gowns and ladies' flummery.

"If you will put the things in something else, I'll catch the express to
Dover and take it with me," Father said to Mrs. Ashleigh; and while she
packed the things he explained to some of the crying old ladies who had
been unable to leave off, how sorry he was that a son of his--but you
know the sort of thing.

Oswald said: "Father, I wish you'd let me come too. I won't be a bit of
trouble."

Perhaps it was partly because my Father didn't want to let me walk home
in the dark, and he didn't want to worry the Ashleighs any more by
asking them to send me home. He said this was why, but I hope it was his
loving wish to have his prompt son, so like himself in his decisiveness,
with him.

We went.

It was an anxious journey. We knew how far from pleased the bride would
be to find no dressing-gowns and ribbons, but only H.O. crying and cross
and dirty, as likely as not, when she opened the basket at the hotel at
Dover.

Father smoked to pass the time, but Oswald had not so much as a
peppermint or a bit of Spanish liquorice to help him through the
journey. Yet he bore up.

When we got out at Dover there were Mr. and Mrs. Albert's uncle on the
platform.

"Hullo," said Albert's uncle. "What's up? Nothing wrong at home, I
hope."

"We've only lost H.O.," said my father. "You don't happen to have him
with you?"

"No; but you're joking," said the bride. "We've lost a dress-basket."

_Lost a dress-basket!_ The words struck us dumb, but my father recovered
speech and explained. The bride was very glad when we said we had
brought her ri