The Cruise of the Make-Believes

t's departure, and so took away one pang at least. The last vision Gilbert had of him was as he dropped over into the other garden, and, looking back, saw the old

estless night to abandon Arcadia Street altogether, and to touch again that life to which he most properly belonged. He would go back into that artificial existence, and, looking on this picture and on that, would dec

informed by his extremely neat and trim man-servant one morning that Mr. Byfield had

what I have been, or what I have done. You should know by this time that I cut up my life into slices; and when one slice is done with I go on to

of," said Mr. Tant, a little sul

with a laugh. "Come, now-I'm sure to hear a

ith an aggressive shoulder turned towards the other man. When he began to speak

se you leave the field to me. I cultivate that field; I'm careful about it; I am attentive and anxious-in fact, I w

han ever," said Gilbert. "Why won't you tell m

heese and moonshine, I've been seeing much of Miss Ewart-Crane; and there has been a gradually increasing respect for me in the family. You have shamefully neglected the lady; I have given her companion

fe again in the old way? Am I going to call on the fair Enid, and stay to lunch-or perhaps drop in, in immaculate garments, for afternoon tea; or dine with her and her esteemed mother i

she would put up with me for the rest of her life; and we should have got on very well. But about you always," he went on petulantly, "is a species of storm-cloud-a very whirlwind of romantic excitement. Now there's no whirlwind about me-and it's really the whirlwind fellows that attract the girls. One never knows what you're going to do; while, on the oth

t suppose I tell you that I've no intention of stepping into

all for you; she never ceases to speak of you. I think she knows that one of these days y

irl affair-a sort of arrangement made between our people, years and

has one thought in her mind, and one only-Enid's future. You'll simply be told that you've got to get

friend. "By the way, what are you do

o the theatre," said Mr. Tant with dignity. "Per

h alacrity. "Most kind of you;

pair. "I can see myself escorting Mrs. Ewart-Crane all the evening, and

you springing in suddenly in any dramatic fashion. You shall be announced in a commonplace way-your return referred to as something quite of a

surprises," said

all arrangements for a very excellent dinner; and he endeavoured, with what dignity he might, to take the head of affairs. But Enid was anxious to know everything concerning a certain Arcadia Street that had been spoken of, and

g some wild region where the foot of man had never trod; instead of which, he's simply been living in a very thickl

d, in her high voice. She was a tall, handsome girl, with a good carriage, and an abundance of good health

arm, "is why we need study men at all-or women, for the matter of that. I grant you that in your

bove all, if we didn't remember that the people who live in the Arcadia Streets of the world are very right and proper in their own places, and very wrong and improper elsewhere. The people of position in this world are those who have come

hink that he's left it," she said. "For my part, I wish to hear no more

ng good-humouredly. "I'm quite sure there was an attraction

of poor people, toiling cheerfully, and having rath

maliciously. "There was an attraction-I saw her, and I heard

ll about this. What was she like? Big and rather brazen-quite a child

be dropped," said Mrs. Ewart-Crane icily.

e knew that the more he tried to explain his feeling about the matter, the less they would be able to understand. But the rather haughty eyes of Enid were upon him, and he had to go on, against his will. "The girl Tant is ta

great man from the great world took a deep interest in her, an

ed, I have never been able to understand what people let lodgings for. If they'v

is watch. "We shall be late

om the table. "Of course, if you'd like me to send her anything that would

stood by those who had not intimately touched her life. He was puzzled to think what he could do to carry out that brave determination of his to help her-to lift her out of her surroundings. If he remained where he was, among his own people, and in his own sphere, he deserted the child; if

abby girl in black; and he was reminded so forcibly of Bessie Meggison that, without knowing what he did, he hurried out of the place, and went after her. Fifty yards down the street she stopped to look in at a shop window; and it was not Bessie at all, but someone quite different. Yet the thought assailed him, as h

ld not touch the girl's, and could have nothing in common with it. He accused himself unnecessarily, when the only mistake that had been made in the

could have forgotten this selfish purposeless life he had always lived, and could have flung himself into some real work that would have brought him nearer in thought and feeling to the gi

old himself that it would be merely an experimental visit; he meant to see if something could not be done to shake old Meggison into an understanding of his responsibilities, and perhaps even to urge the derelict brother

GAIN AT A MOMENT'

, concerning this girl, that the old freedom between them, so far at least as he was concerned, seemed a thing of the past. Even when t

back, you s

t his coming as did the eyes of this child. Things were different in Arcadia Street, he knew; almost he wished that they w

e not coming back," said t

to stop here; I may go away again at a moment's notice-and never come back at all. Don'

. "You see, in that you've helped me-b

tting on?" he asked. "I m

she replied. "Oh, pretty well, thank you," she said in a low voice. "Nothing ever

r fa

ink a lot of him at his club," she said. "And Aubrey is

Mr. Quarle I met when I was here last-the night I c

lodger I have ever had who pays money without being asked for it. He's simply wonderful. Not that he's well off; he's only retired fro

o the girl except himself. Then the thought of what he had meant to do-the remembrance of the girl, shabby and forlorn,

day? I mean, have you ever got away from this dull house for one long evening-a

er head slowly, without looking up. "There

nd I found the money?" h

e meant. At last she said slowly-"I'm afraid it wouldn't do, you know; it really

ttle Make-Believe, that we went out of Arcadia Street-and far beyond Isling

urse, I don't know much about what they're like inside; the

ce," he urged. "I could save up

uisition at his club even than usual, and when Aubrey would be engrossed in the mysteries of a billiard handicap. She would go then; and, the bett

very few of his friends would have recognized Mr. Gilbert Byfield, had they seen him waiting about at the corner of a certain street in Islington, in a well-worn tweed suit and a billycock hat. At that time he did not

how neat she was, and how tastefully dressed, despite the poor things she had on. He had the grace to forget that a swift hansom might be hailed with the raising of a hand; found an omnibus almost comfortable-quite delightful, in fact, with the

became reconciled at last to a little place of few tables and fewer waiters; sat open-eyed and breathless at the glory of a fifth-rate place, with a decided smell of the kitchen about it e

e his eyes to the third row of that particular part of the building. He contented himself, not with looking at a play he had already seen, but with watching the thin face of the girl beside hi

w what had happened; it was only after the horse had started for Arcadia Street that she looked up at him reproachfully-sho

Mr. Byfield-won't you?" she asked wistfully. "I m

rt. "The only question in my mind i

t all over again," she said softly-"but to do

her eyes spoke more than gratitude when she put that little hand into his again in Arcadia Street, before the shabby house swal