“We will await you here, sir,” said the Major magnificently, stroking his mustache.

* * * * *

As Frank came back up the little hill a few minutes later, he had made up his mind as to what to say and do.  It was his first experience of a gentleman-tramp, and it was obvious that under the circumstances he could not pretend to be anything else himself.  But he was perfectly determined not to tell his name.  None of his belongings had anything more than his initials upon them, and he decided to use the name he had already given more than once.  Probably they would not go far together; but it was worth while to be on the safe side.

He came straight up to the two as they sat side by side with their feet in the ditch.

“I’m ready, sir,” he said.  “Yes; you’ve spotted me all right.”

“University man and public school boy,” said the Major without moving.

“Eton and Cambridge,” said Frank.

The Major sprang up.

“Harrow and the Army,” he said.  “Shake hands.”

This was done.

“Name?” said the Major.

Frank grinned.

“I haven’t my card with me,” he said.  “But Frank Gregory will do.”

“I understand,” said the Major.  “And ‘The Major’ will do for me.  It has the advantage of being true.  And this lady?—­well, we’ll call her my wife.”

Frank bowed.  He felt he was acting in some ridiculous dream; but his sense of humor saved him.  The girl gave a little awkward bow in response, and dropped her eyes.  Certainly she was very like Jenny, and very unlike.

“And a name?” asked Frank.  “We may as well have one in case of difficulties.”

The Major considered.

“What do you say to Trustcott?” he asked.  “Will that do?”

“Perfectly,” said Frank.  “Major and Mrs. Trustcott....  Well, shall we be going?”

* * * * *

Frank had no particular views as to lodgings, or even to roads, so long as the direction was more or less northward.  He was aiming, generally speaking, at Selby and York; and it seemed that this would suit the Major as well as anything else.  There is, I believe, some kind of routine amongst the roadsters; and about that time of the year most of them are as far afield as at any time from their winter quarters.  The Major and Mrs. Trustcott, he soon learned, were Southerners; but they would not turn homewards for another three months yet, at least.  For himself, he had no ideas beyond a general intention to reach Barham some time in the autumn, before Jack went back to Cambridge for his fourth year.

“The country is not prepossessing about here,” observed the Major presently; “Hampole is an exception.”

Frank glanced back at the valley they were leaving.  It had, indeed, an extraordinarily retired and rural air; it was a fertile little tract of ground, very limited and circumscribed, and the rail that ran through it was the only sign of the century.  But the bright air was a little dimmed with smoke; and already from the point they had reached tall chimneys began to prick against the horizon.