“Going to have a shave?” I asked, quite civilly, he being all of a lather.

Minkie gave the old gentleman a smile and a bow. He was rather surprised, which was reasonable enough, seeing that she usually sails along without seeing anybody; but he got his hat off in good time.

[Pg 13]

[Pg 13]

“Who is that?” inquired Schwartz.

“Jack’s uncle,” said Minkie.

“Jack is a friend of yours, eh?”

“Um, yes, but he—perhaps I shouldn’t say anything about it. Jack is twenty-five, you see.”

“Oh, is he?” Schwartz was not smiling now. It was easy to guess that by his voice. “I suppose he is better acquainted with your sister than with you?”

“Yes, heaps.”

“What is his other name?”

“Percival Stanhope.”

“Mr. John Percival Stanhope, in fact? Odd that I should not have heard of him, if he is such a great friend of the family?”

“Dolly doesn’t say much about him. He’s in India, and India is such a long way off.”

“Jolly good job, too, or you would be frizzling to-day.” Mr. Schwartz was brightening up again.

“I think you are mistaken,” said Minkie, quietly. “Jack says it is ever so cold in the Punjab at Christmas-time.”

[Pg 14]

[Pg 14]

“Does he write to you, then?” demanded Schwartz.

“No; that was in a letter to Dolly.”

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