"Oh yes! I can guess wery well," answered Giles, his face softening down. "I guessed long ago—didn't I, Connie?"
"Well, now, wot hever did yer guess?" asked Pickles, in some amazement.
"Oh! there wor but one thing to guess. There were one dream as Sue and I were halways dreaming, and she have gone off widout me at last, to see wot it wor like. She'll be back hany moment, arter she have seen and found hout hall she could. Sue have gone to the country, Pickles."
"Oh, my heyes! to the country!" exclaimed Pickles. His face grew crimson, and he was obliged to leave his seat and walk to the window, where he remained with his back to the others for nearly a minute, and where he indulged in some smothered mirth.
When he turned round, however, he was as grave as a judge.
"You are clever," he said to Giles.
"I'm right, ain't I?" asked Giles.
"In course; you're always as right as a trivet."
"Oh, I'm so glad! And does she find it wery beautiful?"
"Scrumptious! fairy-like! scrumptious!"