"Do I fit?" asked d.i.c.k.

"You don't really mean you feel strange and lost in _this_ dream, do you?" she asked a little anxiously.

"I don't mean I feel strange in civilised life. That's only a variation on savagery--a mere matter of degree--and I like it well enough. I can talk the language, dear child, when I'm in the country. But you are my new life, and I'm--well, dazzled, let's call it. Yesterday I had to fetch you home and see that you didn't get hurt. Now, I've got to make you happier every day for the next fifty odd years. It's a tall order, and there's lots to do. I ought to begin."

"You began when you found me crying in Randal's study, d.i.c.k."

"Oh, it's easy to make people less wretched," he objected. "That's why yesterday was, on the whole, a success. But--are you happy?"

"Awfully! Oh, just awfully!" murmured Amaryllis.

"There it is!" sighed d.i.c.k, with the humour which she knew already for the natural sh.e.l.l of some wise little kernel. "And I've got to give you, as you give me, the keen edge of appet.i.te for all the world and for all the people that play about in it. The stuff's all there, but----"

"Why, d.i.c.k, it's the same thing, after all, as yesterday. You saved me from beasts and from fear and from myself. You made me laugh, and you made me love--even made me love Tod, and poor Pepe, and the bees, and the round-faced girl in the cottage they b.u.mbled round; and 'Opeful 'Arry; and you brought me home to a fairy G.o.dmother. If you could do all that in a day, d.i.c.k, just think what a lot of laughing and loving you'll be able to dig out of fifty years. And I won't let you off. Wake up, d.i.c.k. There's no dreaming about it all."

So they woke up together.

At the lunch-table, Amaryllis looked round her, and felt the last of her troubles was over.

Randal showed, she thought, a face more serene and contented than she had ever before seen him wear.

During the earlier part of the meal the talk went to and fro over the track of what George rashly called the _Amarylliad_.

Randal told him the word was falsely constructed, _Iliad, Odyssey_ and _Aeneid_ being, he said, syncopated adjectival forms derived from their respective substantive stems.

"Ours," said George, "has been a rag-time Dunciad."

And when the coffee and George's elbows were on the table, and four of his irresistible cigars alight:

"And us," he said, "not to get one little puff out of it all!"

"Advertis.e.m.e.nt," said Randal, "is the false dawn of fame. You, Mr.

Bruffin, do not, I believe, need it, and will certainly not get it out of the Dope Drama. Miss Caldegard and my brother, who are likely to get a great deal, will hate it."

Amaryllis flushed a little at the coupling of names, but faced it bravely.

Her father drew a crumpled newspaper from his pocket.

"'Mysterious Murders near Millsborough,'" he read out. "'Injured Man in Empty House. Bearded Man Stabbed in Lonely Wood. Dead Chinaman on Deserted Roman Road. Abandoned Automobile.'"

"Inquests!" said George.

"Horrid!" said Amaryllis.

"Rescued Damsel!" said Lady Elizabeth.

"Scientist's Daughter Abducted!" cackled Caldegard.

"Lightning Pursuit by Gallant Airman!" boomed George.

"Dope Gang Baffled!" chuckled Randal. "And we understand that the interesting heroine will shortly reward----"

Lady Elizabeth shot a keen glance at Amaryllis and Amaryllis answered it boldly.

"Oh, of course!" she said.

George, having caught the look, seized upon the words.

"I wish to propose the health," he said, himself raising his gla.s.s, "of Miss Caldegard, coupling it with that of my ancient friend and fellow-filibuster, Limping d.i.c.k."

When four on their feet had toasted the two sitting, Randal spoke seriously.

"The inquests are likely to begin about Wednesday next," he said. "If you two children get yourselves neatly married on Monday, you will be pursued by _subp[oe]nas_ to the Isle of Wight, say, and able to show up and get your evidence begun at least at the second sitting, about a week later. There'll be a paragraph or two before that, and by the time the evidence is reported, you'll be a settled married couple, and the romance will have evaporated."

"Oh, Randal!" said the girl reproachfully.

"Evaporated from the print and paper, dear child," he explained paternally. "Take my advice, and you'll just about break the hearts of the reporters."

"Amaryllis and I," said Lady Elizabeth, rising, "will withdraw and hold counsel. An interim report will be issued at tea."

THE END.