While she was below, I secured two umbrellas from the stoker, and improvised a sort of tent with this and a back number of the Times. I also procured a few delicacies such as young girls love—a pot of French mustard, two bottles of ginger-beer, some shrimps, and several large buns. I spread them all out in a row. It seemed to make them look more luscious, somehow. We were very warm and cosy, seated over the boiler of the engine. Was I in love? Pshaw! Decidedly not, and yet—well, she looked very pretty as she sat there, chattering freely about herself, and lightly dusting with her handkerchief one of the shrimps which was a trifle soiled. I gathered from her conversation that she was very rich, that she had no parents, and would lose all her money if something happened.
"And is that something—er—marriage?" I ventured to ask.
"Gar'n!" she replied, in her pretty school-girl slang. "What are yer getting at?"
"Suppose the boiler blew up, what then?"
"Ah!" she replied, sadly; "Mademoiselle will blow me up if she finds us out. Listen! she's calling."
"Then it's all right, because if she calls now she'll find us in."
At this moment the steamer reached its destination, and I was compelled to leave Miss Smith. However, I followed her and the Governess until they entered the gates of Plumfields, a large school for young ladies. Why should I go back to Southampton? I think I will remain at Ryde.
(To be concluded in Four Chapters.)
The Prince "Starring" at Poole.—His Royal Highness was just as successful last week at Poole in Dorsetshire (everyone who was there will indorse it) as he was at Pyramids in Egypt.