had on either hand dull, well-built, dark grey, eminently
respectable, unutterably dreary-looking houses. I rang, and the door
was opened to me by a most quaint old woman, evidently the landlady. An
odour of curry pervaded the passage, and became more oppressive as the
door of the sitting-room was opened, and I was ushered in upon the Major
and his son, who had just finished lunch.

"Hullo!" cried Derrick, springing up, his face full of delight which
touched me, while at the same time it filled me with envy.

Even the Major thought fit to give me a hearty welcome.

"Glad to see you again," he said pleasantly enough. "It's a relief to
have a fresh face to look at. We have a room which is quite at your
disposal, and I hope you'll stay with us. Brought your portmanteau, eh?"

"It is at the station," I replied.

"See that it is sent for," he said to Derrick; "and show Mr. Wharncliffe
all that is to be seen in this cursed hole of a place." Then, turning
again to me, "Have you lunched? Very well, then, don't waste this fine
afternoon in an invalid's room, but be off and enjoy yourself."

So cordial was the old man, that I should have thought him already a
reformed character, had I not found that he kept the rough side of his
tongue for home use. Derrick placed a novel and a small handbell within
his reach, and we were just going, when we were checked by a volley
of oaths from the Major; then a book came flying across the room, well
aimed at Derrick's head. He stepped aside, and let it fall with a crash
on the sideboard.

"What do you mean by giving me the second volume when you know I am in
the third?" fumed the invalid.

He apologised quietly, fetched the third volume, straightened the
disordered leaves of the discarded second, and with the air of one well
accustomed to such little domestic scenes, took up his hat and came out
with me.

"How long do you intend to go on playing David to the Major's Saul?"
I asked, marvelling at the way in which he endured the humours of his
father.

"As long as I have the chance," he replied. "I say, are you sure you
won't mind staying with us? It can't be a very comfortable household for
an outsider."

"Much better than for an insider, to all appearance," I replied. "I'm
only too delighted to stay. And now, old fellow, tell me the honest
truth--you didn't, you know, in your letter--how have you been getting
on?"

Derrick launched into an account of his father's ailments.

"