he would use. For her pet Nedda, a piece
of 'point de Venise' that she really could not be selfish enough to keep
any longer, especially as she was particularly fond of it. For Alan, a
new kind of tin-opener that the dear boy would like enormously; he was so
nice and practical. For Sheila, such a nice new novel by Mr. and Mrs.
Whirlingham--a bright, wholesome tale, with such a good description of
quite a new country in it--the dear child was so clever, it would be a
change for her. Then, actually resting on the pincers, she came on her
pass-book, recently made up, containing little or no balance, just enough
to get darling John that bag like hers with the new clasp, which would be
so handy for his papers when he went travelling. And having reached the
pincers, she took them in her hand, and sat down again to be quite quiet
a moment, with her still-dark eyelashes resting on her ivory cheeks and
her lips pressed to a colorless line; for her head swam from stooping
over. In repose, with three flies circling above her fine gray hair, she
might have served a sculptor for a study of the stoic spirit. Then,
going to the bag, her compressed lips twitching, her gray eyes piercing
into its clasp with a kind of distrustful optimism, she lifted the
pincers and tweaked it hard.

If the atmosphere of that dinner, to which all six from Hampstead came,
was less disturbed than John anticipated, it was due to his sense of
hospitality, and to every one's feeling that controversy would puzzle and
distress Granny. That there were things about which people differed,
Frances Freeland well knew, but that they should so differ as to make
them forget to smile and have good manners would not have seemed right to
her at all. And of this, in her presence, they were all conscious; so
that when they had reached the asparagus there was hardly anything left
that could by any possibility be talked about. And this--for fear of
seeming awkward--they at once proceeded to discuss, Flora remarking that
London was very full. John agreed.

Frances Freeland, smiling, said:

"It's so nice for Derek and Sheila to be seeing it like this for the
first time."

Sheila said:

"Why? Isn't it always as full as this?"

John answered:

"In August practically empty. They say a hundred thousand people, at
least, go away."

"Double!" remarked Felix.

"The figures are variously given. My estimate--"

"One in sixty. That shows you!"

At this inter