Miss Wheeler was
lamentably deficient, owing, it was suggested, to a weakness of Mrs.
Wheeler's for picking up stray ones and putting them in her hair. The
conversation ended in Mrs. Wheeler, whose thin voice was heard hotly
combating these charges, parting with six, without prejudice; and a few
minutes later Miss Wheeler, somewhat flushed, entered the room and was
introduced to the mate.

"All ready?" enquired Flower, as Miss Tyrell drew on her gloves.

They went downstairs in single file, the builder of the house having
left no option in the matter, while the small Wheelers, breathing hard
with excitement, watched them over the balusters. Outside the house the
two ladies paired off, leaving the two men to follow behind.

The mate noticed, with a strong sense of his own unworthiness, that
the two ladies seemed thoroughly engrossed in each other's company, and
oblivious to all else. A suggestion from Flower that he should close up
and take off Miss Wheeler, seemed to him to border upon audacity, but he
meekly followed Flower as that bold mariner ranged himself alongside the
girls, and taking two steps on the curb and three in the gutter, walked
along for some time trying to think of something to say.

"There ain't room for four abreast," said Flower, who had been scraping
against the wall. "We'd better split up into twos."

At the suggestion the ladies drifted apart, and Flower, taking Miss
Tyrell's arm, left the mate behind with Miss Wheeler, nervously
wondering whether he ought to do the same.

"I hope it won't rain," he said, at last.

"I hope not," said Miss Wheeler, glancing up at a sky which was
absolutely cloudless.

"So bad for ladies' dresses," continued the mate.

"What is?" enquired Miss Wheeler, who had covered some distance since
the last remark.

"Rain," said the mate, quite freshly. "I don't think we shall have any,
though."

Miss Wheeler whose life had been passed in a neighbourhood in which
there was only one explanation for such conduct, concluded that he had
been drinking, and, closing her lips tightly, said no more until they
reached the theatre.

"Oh, they're going in," she said, quickly; "we shall get a bad seat."

"Hurry up," cried Flower, beckoning.

"I'll pay," whispered the mate.

"No, I will," said Flower. "Well, you pay for one and I'll pay for one,
then."

He pushed his way to the window and bought a couple of pit-stalls;
the mate, who had not consulted him, bought upper