'Where I am, I don't know,' he went on. 'Who you are, I don't know; and I've no money to speak of. I feel a pig.'

'I know you well enough, Charlie Osmond. I shouldn't have picked you up, and brought you down here if I hadn't wanted you-but I did. Now make yourself at home; get into the bathroom. You'll find clean collars, and a new toothbrush and things, and we'll have breakfast and talk. I haven't exactly brought you here for nothing.'

Charlie felt considerably relieved when he found himself alone in the dainty bathroom.

Every imaginable sort of comfort was ready to hand, and he enjoyed a most elaborate scented bath. After the final cold douche, he put down a stiff ice-cold brandy and soda and was ready for anything the world might bring forth.

Maudie was dressed when he came back into the bedroom-dressed in a simple summer muslin, which made him remember with a shock that he had been in evening clothes the night before.

Maudie obviously divined his thought.

'I expect you'll find flannels to do you in the wardrobe,' she said laughingly. 'I keep several sizes.'

In a few minutes Charlie was a smart young man, in immaculate boating flannels, and as he followed his hostess through the pretty hall and across the lawn to where a breakfast table flashed its silver; glass and napery temptingly under the trees, he felt he'd like to stop here forever.

Another pretty maid, in white, and a page-boy, in white ducks, waited.

Charlie frankly made a pig of himself. A cool breeze flickering over the Thames had given him a raging appetite, and everything was so very nicely done, and the pretty eyes opposite his were so twinklingly alluring.

CHAPTER TWO

Maudie's Garden and Studio

On a little slope, very green and fresh-looking, and completely shut off from the house by the trees, a number of really sensible-sized cushions were spread.