"I am glad to hear that. Good-day!"
As he stepped into his buggy a letter crinkled in his breast-pocket. He laid himself back on the seat, murmuring Heine's
"Lay your dear little hand on my heart, my fair!
Ah! you hear how it knocks on its chamber there?
In there dwells a carpenter grim and vile,
And he's shaping a coffin for me the while.
"There is knocking and hammering night and day;
Long since they have frightened my sleep away.
Oh, carpenter, show that you know your trade,
That so to sleep I may soon be laid!"
Half-way up the mountain-road, Arthur overtook the buggy and cantered alongside.
"You're looking pretty cheap, old man," he said; "better come to dinner to-night, and see if we can't cheer you up—7.30 as usual!"
"Thanks! I think I will," answered Lancelot. "I don't feel particularly bright!"
Immediately after dessert Guinevere retired, leaving her husband and their guest together.
As Lancelot drew his handkerchief from his pocket, a letter came with it and fell unnoticed to the floor.