_Illustrated by W. Rainey, R.I._
[Illustration]
Reginald Hampton, the distinguished aeronaut, was at the mercy of any
wind that chose to do him an ill turn. He had entirely lost control of
his balloon--of which he was the only occupant--and, so far as he could
see, the odds were fairly even as to whether he would find a watery
grave in the English Channel, or a rocky one on the Kentish mainland.
First came a kind of gentlemen-at-large breeze, which took him seawards;
then a rival gust drove him back; finally the balloon stopped for a
couple of minutes to think out the situation. Reginald Hampton, being by
nature a fatalist and by training an aeronaut, awaited the decision
without any appearance of impatience or anxiety; when his vehicle was
ready to move on, he would try to fall on his feet if possible, but not
for the world would he wish to hasten the departure.
[Illustration: "IN THE HAMMOCK REPOSED A MAIDEN."]
The balloon, after profound meditation, decided in favour of land, and
in no long time she began to settle quietly down, with the gentleness of
a snow-flake, and finally sank gracefully into the arms of a huge pear
tree, white with blossom; whereupon the aeronaut grappled her to the
tree, filled and lit a comfortable-looking pipe, and leaned carelessly
over the edge of the car, to spy out the nakedness of this foster land.
It was against his principles to seem otherwise than dispassioned on
these occasions.
[Illustration: "HE TOOK A CONTENTED SURVEY OF HIS FRUIT TREES."]
Below him he saw a big garden, full of yews, box, fruit trees, and
spring flowers, all hobnobbing with one another in the cheeriest manner
imaginable. At the far end of the garden stood a house, of ruddy
complexion, prosperous bulk, and Queen Anne architecture. Immediately
beneath him--the branches diverged considerately, so as to allow his
vision free play--a hammock was swinging gently from side to side, and
in the hammock reposed a maiden. Now the prospect of a speedy demise did
not excite Reginald Hampton, but a suggestion of feminine beauty had
never been known to fail in this. He nearly fell out of the car in his
eagerness to distinguish the details of the girl's appearance. A girl in
a hammock, he reflected, ought always to be pretty, and artistic
propriety demanded that she should be a veritable Peri when he had taken
the trouble to save his neck by falling into the very tree to which her
hammock was attached.
So eager was he, indeed, that his teeth lost their hold of the big
briar, which cannoned from branch to branch, and dropped, somewhat
forcibly, into the girl's hand. The prospective Peri was naturally a
little startled, and more than a little angry, because the pipe had hurt
her considerably. She slipped out of the hammock and stood looking about
her with an air of enraged bewilderment. And from the clouds there came,
as it were, a voice independent of any human tabernacle, a _vox et
preterea nihil_.
"I'm awfully sorry--upon my word, most careless of me--may I come down
and make my apologies in proper form?"
"Please, where are you?" demanded the girl. The tree was so constructed
that Hampton could more easily see her than she him; and moreover it is
one of the most difficult things in the world to locate an unexpected
sound.
"I'm tree'd," laughed the voice, "straight above your head."
"That sounds odd," returned the other, beginning to enter into the
spirit of the situation; "how on earth did you get there, and who are
you?"
"An aeronaut. If you will leave the shelter of this particularly fine
tree and look up above, you will see a balloon; attached to the balloon
is a car, and attached to the car is myself."
"And do you propose to stay up there indefinitely? It isn't very
amusing, is it?"
"Not particularly. If you can suggest a method of escape, I shall be
only too happy to descend."
"Climb out of the car, and then down the tree-trunk. Nothing could be
simpler."
"Pardon me, but have you ever tried that particular form of gymnastic
exercise? Directly I begin to get out of the car, she will topple over,
and I wouldn't for the world give you the trouble of collecting my
fragments at the bottom."
"Please don't. It would be like making one of those wretched toy-houses
out of bricks, and I know I should never fit in the pieces properly.
Still, you can't stay up there for ever, can you, now?"
"Not possibly. For one thing, I have not tasted food for twelve hours,
and I shall expire if I don't get some presently."
"I might bring you a sandwich, if you have got a piece of string you can
let down," said the girl, with the easy _badinage_ of an old friend. It
is not every day that one is privileged to encounter a tree'd
balloonist, and she felt that the proprieties were not particularly at
home in such an _al fresco_ environment.
"Thanks," responded the aerial voice, "but I prefer to reach firm
ground, if it can any way be managed. I say, could you get me a ladder?"
"Yes. I'll hunt up the gardener, and tell him to bring one. You think
you can get down that way?"
[Illustration: "'WHAT THE MISCHIEF ARE YOU DOING IN MY PEAR TREE?'"]
"I think so. If the gardener holds the ladder tight against my car, it
should fix it pretty firmly, and then I can climb on to the ladder. By
the way, you are awfully good to take all this trouble on behalf of an
entire stranger. I forgot to make the observation earlier, because, you
see, we grow accustomed to finding ourselves uninvited guests. I once
dropped into the middle of a Royal Garden Party."
"Did you, really? Tell me all about it," said the girl, forgetting her
errand of mercy.
"Oh, they thought at first I was a Nihilist or a Fenian or something,
come to blow up the whole Royal Family. I escaped finally by explaining
that the Prince of Wales--who was fortunately absent--had hired me to
make the descent by way of affording a little relief to the tedium of
the gathering. Incidentally, may I ask into what particular garden I
have had the good luck to fall?"
"This is Caviare Court, Fullerton, Kent."
"_No?_ You don't mean it?"
"Why, yes. Why shouldn't I mean it?"
"That really is odd. Then your father is Colonel Currie?"
"Yes. How ever do you come to know that?"
"Because he happens to be my mother's brother. My name is
Hampton--Reginald Hampton."