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Rh "I do so love gooseberries," I say, looking fondly at the bare bushes we are passing; "grapes never came up to them in my estimation."

"Then when I am at The Towers will you come and help strip my bushes?"

"That I will," I say heartily, "only I am afraid that if you once let me into your garden you will never get any dessert."

I shall not want any for a long time; I am not going there for three years, except for a day or two to arrange matters."

"Three years!" I say blankly. "Oh dear! I shall be past gooseberries by the time you come back!"

"There will be the peaches?"

"Yes, but they will never taste the same, you know, after I am grown up. Are you going very far?"

"To India, America, Siberia, Australia, China, and—I forget the names of the places almost."

"It is a pity," I say, shaking my head, "a very great pity! You should do a little at a time. You cannot enjoy all that at once! Why, when we went to Periwinkle-by-the-Sea we were worn out with the novelties. We felt they were almost too much!"

"But supposing," he says, with a queer look upon his face, "that you wanted to be worn out, wanted to tire yourself, what then?"

"I never felt like that," I say thoughtfully, "so I cannot tell."

"You have a blessedly blank memory, child," he says; "would to God I had!"

"My master is expecting you," says Mrs. Pim, appearing suddenly before us, so we go in and have dinner; a cool, quiet repast, that is very unlike the one of which I partook at one o'clock to-day. I think Mr. Frere is fond of this nephew; Paul, he calls him, his other name, I find, is Vasher. We are out in the garden again by seven o'clock—at so primitive an hour does Mr. Frere dine