The Daily Papers.
KICKED!
(By the Foot of Clara Groomley.)
Chapter II.
I am still at Ryde, and it is still raining. On a day like this, a little Ryde goes a great way. No Ryde without rain. Telle est la vie. The young girls at Plumfields sit writing themes indoors instead of taking their exercise in the open air.
If this rain keeps on, I shall go to wild Assam again, or to the Goodwin Sands. James, the headwaiter, has told me thirteen different stories of the haunted room of this hotel. None of them are amusing, or interesting, or have anything to do with this tale. If I were writing a shilling volume, I should put them in by way of padding. As it is, they may go out. I too will go out.
I have seen Mlle. Donnerwetter. She was racing along on the pier, and I was pacing along in the rear. I saw her and caught her up. I hastily pressed all the valuables that I had with me—four postage-stamps and an unserviceable watch-key—into her hand, and entreated her to give me an interview with Miss Smith.