s a good motto all the world over. When he saw babies in
perambulators, he would have liked to kiss them. When he saw an
elderly man with a pretty young woman, he wanted to nudge him and say
jocosely, "You're in luck, old chap, aren't you?" When couples of boy
and girl lovers went whispering by, he smiled sentimentally. "That's
right. You can't begin too soon. Never mind what Ma says. If you like
him, stick to him, lassie."

And though still alone, he felt no loneliness. His own dear companion
was soon coming to him. Throughout the walk the only thoughts tinged
with solemnity were those which sprang from his always deepening
gratitude to Mr. Barradine. He wanted to pay a ceremonious call for
the purpose of expressing his thanks, and he felt that he should do
this immediately; but for the life of him he could not remember
whether the great man's London house was situated in Grosvenor Square
or Grosvenor Place. Mavis of course would know. Or he could find out
from one of these policemen. He hesitated, and it was the state of his
collar that decided him. He would postpone the visit of gratitude, and
do it first thing to-morrow morning in a clean collar.

The hall clock at his lodgings announced the hour as close on five,
and he mentally noted that the timepiece was inaccurate--three and a
half minutes behind Greenwich. As usual, the hall was untenanted, with
no servant to answer questions. He searched the dark recesses of a
dirty letter-rack, on the chance that he might find a telegram from
his wife waiting for him. Then he went gaily up the interminable
staircase, making nothing now of its five flights, enjoying their
steepness as productive of agreeable exercise.

"Hulloa!" he muttered. "What's this?"

A woman's hat and parasol were lying on a chair, and there was a
valise on the floor by the chest of drawers. Turning, he gave a cry of
delight. Mavis was stretched on the bed, fast asleep.

She woke at the sound of his voice, scrambled down, and flung herself
into his arms.

"W

William Babington Maxwell (18661938) was a British novelist. He was a son of novelist Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Though nearly 50 years old at the outbreak of the First World War, he was accepted as a lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers and served in France until 1917.

Cyrus Townsend Brady (December 20, 1861 January 24, 1920) was a journalist, historian and adventure writer. His most well-known work is Indian Fights and Fighters. He was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1883. He was also a deacon in the Episcopal church. His first wife was Clarissa Guthrie, who died in 1890. His second wife was Mary Barrett.

Rebecca Sophia Clarke (1833-1906), also known as Sophie May, was an American author of childrens fiction. Using her nieces and nephews as inspiration, she wrote realistic stories about children. She wrote 45 books between 1860 and 1903. The most popular being the Little Prudy books. She lived most of her life in her native town of Norridgewock, Maine, where she lived out her life with her sister, who was also a successful author.