ut in accordance with Lucy's wish, and the wing
he inhabited was in fairly good order. Still, Sir Harry being a
bachelor, and extremely untidy, his den, as he called it, was in a state
of pleasing muddle, which oftentimes drew forth rebukes from Lucy. She
was resolved to train her Harry into better ways when she had the wifely
right to correct him, but, as she frequently remarked, it would be the
thirteenth labour of Hercules to cleanse this modern Augean stable.

Harry himself, with male obstinacy, always asserted that the room was
tidy enough, and that he hated to live in a prim apartment. He said that
he could lay his hand on anything he wanted, and that the seeming
confusion was perfect order to him. Lucy gave up arguing on these
grounds, but privately determined that when the honeymoon was over she
would have a grand 'clarin up' time like Dinah in _Uncle Tom's Cabin_.
In the meanwhile, Harry continued to dwell amongst his confused
household gods, like Marius amid the ruins of Carthage.

And after all, the 'den,' if untidy, was a very pleasant apartment,
decorated extensively with evidences of Harry's athletic tastes. There
were boxing-gloves, fencing-foils, dumb-bells, and other aids to
muscular exertion; silver cups won at college sports were ranged on the
mantelpiece; on one wall hung a selection of savage weapons which Harry
had brought from Africa and the South Seas; on the other, a hunting
trophy of whip, spurs, cap and fox's brush was arranged; and pictures of
celebrated horses and famous jockeys were placed here, there and
everywhere. The writing-table, pushed up close to the window, was
littered with papers, and letters and plans, and before this Harry was
seated one morning writing a letter to Lucy, when the servant informed
him that Mr Baltic was waiting without. Harry gave orders for his
instant admittance, as he was curious to see again the sinner turned
saint, and anxious to learn what tide from the far South Seas had
stranded him in respectable, unromantic Beorminster.

When the visitor entered with his burly figure and bright, observant
eyes, Harry gave him a friendly nod, but knowing more about Baltic than
the rest of Beorminster, did not offer him his hand. From his height of
six feet, he looked down on the thick-set little missionary, and telling
him to be seated, made him welcome in a sufficiently genial fashion,
nevertheless with a certain reserve. He was not quite certain if
Baltic's conversi