A low white cottage, standing back in a shady little garden, was their destination.

As Mr.Carlyon unlatched the gate, Cedric said in an audible aside-- "It is not washing-day, is it, David?
I hope Mother Pratt has her kettle boiling, for Herrick and I are as thirsty as fish." "My dear fellow, I have no idea," and Mr.Carlyon looked a little alarmed.

"Just look after Mr.Herrick for a few minutes while I tackle the good lady." "I don't believe Mrs.Pratt will bring the tea-things for another half-hour," observed Cedric cheerfully.

"Poor old Davie, it is awful hard lines for him to have such a landlady.

She imposes on him shamefully." "Why does he put up with it ?" returned Malcolm drily.