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I turned and there, immaculate, serene and debonair as ever, was A. Carleton Heathcroft. "Ah, Knowles," he said, cheerfully. "Thought it was you. Haven't seen you of late. Missed you at Burgleston, on the course. How are you?" I told him I was quite well, and inquired concerning his own health. "Topping," he replied. "Rotten weather, eh what? And how's Miss Oh, dear me, always forget the name!
"Burgleston Bogs is where that Heathcroft chap whom we met on the steamer visits occasionally. His aunt has a big place there. By George! you don't suppose that estate belongs to his aunt, do you?" Hephzy gasped. "I wouldn't wonder," she cried. "I wouldn't wonder if it did. And his aunt was Lady Somebody, wasn't she. Maybe you'll meet him there.
We made other acquaintances Mrs. Griggson, the widow in "reduced circumstances," whose husband had been killed in the Boer war, and who occupied the little cottage next to the draper's shop; Mr. and Mrs. Samson, of Burgleston Bogs, friends of the Baylisses, and others. They were pleasant, kindly, unaffected people and we enjoyed their society. Each day Frances gained in health and strength.
My! Hosy, you ARE gettin' English." "Indeed I'm not!" I declared, with emphasis. "My experience with an English relative is sufficient of itself to prevent that. Miss Frances Morley and I are compatriots for the summer only." In Which We Make the Acquaintance of Mayberry and a Portion of Burgleston Bogs We migrated to Mayberry the following Monday, as we had agreed to do.
"She is my wife now," I said. "Good-by, Mr. Heathcroft." I hurried away before he could do more than gasp. I think I shook even his serene composure at last. I told Hephzy about it as we rode to the hotel in the cab. "It was silly, I suppose," I said. "I told him on the spur of the moment. I imagine all Mayberry, not to mention Burgleston Bogs, will have something to talk about now.
Permission is always given the rectory tenants." "Oh! my gracious, isn't that grand! That estate isn't in Mayberry. The Mayberry bounds that's what Mrs. Cole called them and just this side. The estate is in the village of of Burgleston Bogs. Burgleston Bogs it's a funny name. Seem's if I'd heard it before." "You have," said I, in surprise.
That afternoon his wife called upon Hephzy. The next day I played a round of golf upon the private course on the Manor House grounds, the Burgleston Bogs grounds with the doctor and his son, young Herbert Bayliss, just through Cambridge and the medical college at London. Young Bayliss was a pleasant, good-looking young chap and I liked him as I did his father.
The Samsons lived at Burgleston Bogs, and we drove to their house in the trap behind "Pet," the plump black horse. Mrs. Samson seemed very glad to see us, urged us to remain for tea, and invited us to attend a tennis tournament on their lawn the following week. She asked if Miss Morley played tennis. Frances said she had played, but not recently.
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