icking
with nothing to do. I'm very sorry for myself. I should like some one
else to be sorry for me. Evidently I'm not going ma before I die, but
the pain's just as bad as ever. Some day when you're vivisected, cat O!
they'll tie you down on a little table and cut you open--but don't be
afraid; they'll take precious good care that you don't die. You'll live,
and you'll be very sorry then that you weren't sorry for me. Perhaps
Torp will come back or... I wish I could go to Torp and the Nilghai,
even though I were in their way.'

Pussy left the room before the speech was ended, and Alf, as he entered,
found Dick addressing the empty hearth-rug.

'There's a letter for you, sir,' he said. 'Perhaps you'd like me to read
it.'

'Lend it to me for a minute and I'll tell you.'

The outstretched hand shook just a little and the voice was not
over-steady. It was within the limits of human possibility that--that
was no letter from Maisie. He knew the heft of three closed envelopes
only too well. It was a foolish hope that the girl should write to
him, for he did not realise that there is a wrong which admits of no
reparation though the evildoer may with tears and the heart's best love
strive to mend all. It is best to forget that wrong whether it be caused
or endured, since it is as remediless as bad work once put forward.

'Read it, then,' said Dick, and Alf began intoning according to the
rules of the Board School--'"I could have given you love, I could have
given you loyalty, such as you never dreamed of. Do you suppose I cared
what you were? But you chose to whistle everything down the wind for
nothing. My only excuse for you is that you are so young." 'That's all,'
he said, returning the paper to be dropped into the fire.

'What was in the letter?' asked Mrs. Beeton, when Alf returned.

'I don't know. I think it was a circular or a tract about not whistlin'
at everything when you're young.'

'I must have stepped on something when I was alive and walking about and
it has bounced up and hit me. God help it, whatever it is--unless it was
all a joke. But I don't know any one who'd take the trouble to play a
joke on me.... Love and loyalty for nothing. It sounds tempting enough.

I wonder whether I have lost anything really?'

Dick considered for a long time but could not remember when or how he
had put himself in the way of winning these trifles at a woman's hands.

Still, the letter as touching on matters that he pre