the young man, chastened by my aunt's best iced manner the night before, wouldn't even have said "Good morning" unless I had addressed him. It was all very absurd, but confusing. Oh He said, in that pleasant voice of his: "Good afternoon! I wish to return some property of yours." "Of mine?" I said, puzzled. I wondered whether a bit of lace of ours or something of that sort had blown out of the window of No. 45 into the garden of No. 44. But the young man, putting his hand into his jacket pocket, took out and held in the palm of his hand the "property." It was an oval silver brooch, bearing in raised letters the name "Nellie." The young man said, "I noticed it on the top of the 'bus just after you got off the other morning; you must have dropped it——" [Pg 37] "Oh! Thank you so much," I began, taking the brooch. "It isn't mine, as a matter of fact, but——" [Pg 37] "Oh," he said pleasantly, "you are not 'Nellie'?" Then he hadn't heard Aunt Anastasia calling me in that very rasping voice the other evening. "No," I said, "'Nellie' is our maid; at least she was our maid." "Oh, really?" he said, very interested. He has a delightful face. I don't wonder Million said he was just what she meant by "the sort of young gentleman" that she would like to marry. Then a thought struck me. Why not? Men have married their pretty cooks before now. Why shouldn't this nice young man be Million's fate? He certainly did seem interested in her. It would be a regular King-Cophetua-and-the-Beggar-Maid romance. Only, owing to her riches, it would be Million's rôle to play Queen Cophetua to this young man, who was too poor to go into the Army. So, feeling quite thrilled by the prospect of looking on at this love story, I said: "Would you like to send the brooch on to—to—er—to Miss Nellie Million yourself?" You see, I thought if he knew where to take it, he would probably go at once to the Hostelry for Cats of Independent Means and see
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