are past. We shall have some peace now that she
has arrived. Bon jour, Mamzelle. How I am happy to see thee again!
Thou are not fatigued--no? Seat thyself in this chair, and I will make
known to thee my friends."

She spoke in French, and evidently wished her governess to appear as
French on this occasion at least; and Pixie rose to the occasion,
sweeping elaborate bows from side to side, unconsciously elevating her
shoulders, and waving expressive hands. She discoursed volubly about
her long and adventurous journey of three-quarters of an hour's
duration, and Mrs Wallace's guests looked on with smiling faces,
putting an occasional laborious question as she appeared to be reaching
the end of her story.

There were several ladies, all young and pretty and beautifully dressed,
and three strange men, including Cousin Jim and his soldier friend from
India. Cousin Jim had bright, twinkling eyes, and looked full of life
and spirit; but his friend's brown face was lined and haggard, and his
smile was half-hearted, as if his thoughts were not in the present.

Pixie noticed, however, that it was to his side that little Inda crept
for support, and that his disengaged hand softly stroked the child's
head from time to time, as if he found comfort in her presence. Such
good friends did they appear that after the meal was finished she
refused to be separated from him, and implored his company in the gipsy
tent in the paddock. Mrs Wallace protested, but the young fellow
declared that he enjoyed being victimised, and walked off with the
schoolroom party with the utmost good humour.

"But I can't speak French, Viva," he explained--"not well enough to be
able to converse with Mademoiselle, at least! You must explain to her
that I am only a stupid Englishman, and ask her to excuse me. You can
translate that for me, I suppose?"

"She's not French either; she's only pitending. She's only English the
same as me," protested Viva sturdily; and Pixie nodded at him with
complacent smiles.

"But I've lived abroad; so I speak it to them for their good. You've
been away too, haven't you? I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

He smiled, but it was rather a sad little smile, despite its amusement.
"I went for work, you know, not pleasure. We accomplished what there
was to do, which was satisfactory; but I can't honestly say I enjoyed
it."

"I hate work!" agreed Pixie sympathetically. "We all do; it's in the
family. `Never do to-day