‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. " "Mother be——!" returned Jack. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. "' Instead of regarding him, Jack glanced over the iron bannisters, and measured the distance. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. I need scarcely ask whether you've executed your appointed task, my dear? You're never behindhand.
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