aid to Mavis, when leaving one evening.

"I don't see what she could have, unless--"

"Unless?"

"I believe she worries about a matter connected with her old
occupation. I'll try and find out," said Mavis.

"'Ow did 'e say I was?" asked Miss Nippett, as Mavis rejoined her.

"Much better."

"I ain't."

"Nonsense!"

"Reely I ain't. If 'e says I'm better, 'e'd better stay away. That's
the worst of these fash'nable 'Bush' doctors; they make fortunes out of
flattering people they're better when they're not."

Mavis had more than a suspicion that Miss Nippett's retarded
convalescence was due to not having attained that position in the
academy to which she believed her years of faithful service entitled
her. Mavis made reference to the matter; the nature of Miss Nippett's
replies converted suspicion into certainty.

The next morning, Mavis called on Mr Poulter, whom she had not seen for
two weeks, the increasing physical disabilities of her condition
compelling her to give up work at the academy. She found him engaged in
the invention of a new country dance for a forthcoming competition.
Mavis explained her errand, but had some difficulty in convincing even
kindly Mr Poulter of Miss Nippett's ambitious leanings: in the course
of years, he had come to look on his devoted accompanist very much as
he regarded "Turpsichor" who stood by the front door. Mavis's request
surprised him almost as much as if he had been told that "Turpsichor"
herself ached to waltz with him in the publicity of a long night.

"I don't believe she's very long to live," said Mavis. "If you could
make her a partner, merely in an honorary sense, it would make her last
days radiantly happy."

"It might be done, my dear," mused Mr Poulter.

"But, whatever you do, don't let her think I suggested it to you."

"'Poulter's' can be the soul of tact and discretion," he informed her.

After more conversation on the subject, Mavis was about to take her
leave when the postman brought a parcel addressed to her at the
academy, from her old Pennington friend, Mrs Trivett. It contained
eggs, butter, and cream, together with a letter. This last told Mavis
that things were in a bad way at the farm; in consequence, her husband
was thinking of sub-letting his house, in order to migrate to
Melkbridge, where he might earn a living by teaching music. It closed
with repeated wishes for Mavis's welfare.

"These people will send things in my maiden name," said Mav