he will ask you to do some very disagreeable things for her."

This echo of his own thoughts gave Garnett a sharp twinge of
discomfort, but he made shift to answer good-humouredly: "If you refer
to my present errand, I must tell you that I don't find it disagreeable
to do anything which may be of service to Miss Hermione."

Mr. Newell fumbled in his pocket, as though searching unavailingly for
another morsel of bread; then he said: "From her point of view I shall
not be the most important person at the ceremony."

Garnett smiled. "That is hardly a reason--" he began; but he was
checked by the brevity of tone with which his companion replied: "I am
not aware that I am called upon to give you my reasons."

"You are certainly not," the young man rejoined, "except in so far as
you are willing to consider me as the messenger of your wife and
daughter."

"Oh, I accept your credentials," said the other with his dry smile;
"what I don't recognize is their right to send a message."

This reduced Garnett to silence, and after a moment's pause Mr. Newell
drew his watch from his pocket.

"I am sorry to cut the conversation short, but my days are mapped out
with a certain regularity, and this is the hour for my nap." He rose as
he spoke and held out his hand with a glint of melancholy humour in his
small clear eyes.

"You dismiss me, then? I am to take back a refusal?" the young man
exclaimed.

"My dear sir, those ladies have got on very well without me for a
number of years: I imagine they can put through this wedding without my
help."

"You are mistaken, then; if it were not for that I shouldn't have
undertaken this errand."

Mr. Newell paused as he was turning away. "Not for what?" he enquired.

"The fact that, as it happens, the wedding can't be put through without
your help."

Mr. Newell's thin lips formed a noiseless whistle. "They've got to have
my consent, have they? Well, is he a good young man?"

"The bridegroom?" Garnett echoed in surprise. "I hear the best accounts
of him--and Miss Newell is very much in love."

Her parent met this with an odd smile. "Well, then, I give my
consent--it's all I've got left to give," he added philosophically.

Garnett hesitated. "But if you consent--if you approve--why do you
refuse your daughter's request?"

Mr. Newell looked at him a moment. "Ask Mrs. Newell!" he said. And as
Garnett was again silent, he turned away with a slight gesture of
leave-taking.

But in an