A Customs searcher put his usual questions, and Kate smiled on him and said she had nothing to declare. He scrawled a chalk hieroglyphic on all her property without opening a single piece. "There, look, Henry, stop that porter. He's taking a case of mine to the wrong cab. Thanks, I wouldn't have lost that case for a king's ransom."
"Butterflies?"
"No, a native war horn in ivory."
"Oh, they're fairly common."
"Yes, but a friend gave me this, and I want to keep it. There, I think that's the lot. Good-by, Henry. You'll come and see me at Princes' Park when I'm settled down again?"
"But, Kitty, can't I drive out with you now? I'd so looked forward to driving back with you. There's plenty of room in the cab."
"No," said Kate, "I'd rather you went home now, and thought over again what I'm like now that I've come back to England with a West Coast flavor. I know you'll disapprove of me as a possible wife, but I do hope you'll see your way of keeping me on the list of your friends. Nobody knows you ever suggested anything more, unless you have told them, and I don't see why they should know. But I'm more than ever convinced that I'm not the girl to make you the wife you deserve. Don't answer me now, there's a nice boy. Just go to the club and have a good dinner, and ring me up some time this evening and say you thoroughly agree with me."
Mrs. Craven came back that evening from London and Kate told her of West Africa happenings with a fine wealth of detail.
The old lady looked at her very narrowly and when she had finished, "Yes, my dear," said she, "and now are you going to tell me something that will interest me far more than all that?"
"No, Aunt, I think you have got the pith of it."