e shook her head,
Looked at me and said:
'Poor John! Poor John!'

Chorus, Freddie! Let's cheer ourselves up! We need it!"

John took me round to see his mother...!

"His m-o-o-other!" croaked Freddie. Curiously enough, this ballad was
one of Freddie's favourites. He had rendered it with a good deal of
success on three separate occasions at village entertainments down in
Worcestershire, and he rather flattered himself that he could get
about as much out of it as the next man. He proceeded to abet Jill
heartily with gruff sounds which he was under the impression
constituted what is known in musical circles as "singing seconds."

"His mo-o-other!" he growled with frightful scorn.

"And when he'd introduced us to each other...."

"O-o-o-other!"

"She sized up everything that I had on!"

"Pom-_pom_-pom!"

"She put me through a cross-examination...."

Jill had thrown her head back, and was singing jubilantly at the top
of her voice. The appositeness of the song had cheered her up. It
seemed somehow to make her forebodings rather ridiculous, to reduce
them to absurdity, to turn into farce the gathering tragedy which had
been weighing upon her nerves.

Then she shook her head,
Looked at me and said:
'Poor John!'....

"Jill," said a voice at the door. "I want you to meet my mother!"

"Poo-oo-oor John!" bleated the hapless Freddie, unable to check
himself.

"Dinner," said Barker the valet, appearing at the door and breaking a
silence that seemed to fill the room like a tangible presence, "is
served!"

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST NIGHT AT THE LEICESTER

I

The front-door closed softly behind the theatre-party. Dinner was
over, and Barker had just been assisting the expedition out of the
place. Sensitive to atmosphere, he had found his share in the dinner a
little trying. It had been a strained meal, and what he liked was a
clatter of conversation and everybody having a good time and enjoying
themselves.

"Ellen!" called Barker, as he proceeded down the passage to the empty
dining-room. "Ellen!"

Mrs. Barker appeared out of the kitchen, wiping her hands. Her work
for the evening, like her husband's, was over. Presently what is
technically called a "useful girl" would come in to wash up the
dishes, leaving the evening free for social intercourse. Mrs. Barker
had done well by her patrons that night, and now she wanted a quiet
chat with Barker over a glass of Freddie