aks at all he groans and moves his ears. Charming
woman, very. Quite pretty. There may be nothing in it. I saw no actual
violence. Sharper may merely have been suffering. He wouldn't be happy
if he wasn't. Have a drink. No?"

CHAPTER II

Halfpenny Hole lay in the bottom of a slope seven miles from
Dilborough. Dilborough was almost the same distance from Halfpenny
Hole. Jawbones was, I think we must say, an old-world house, and had
the date 1623 carved over the doorway. Luke Sharper had carved it
himself. A little further down the road there was--there's no other
word for it--an old-world bridge with--I'm afraid we must have it once
more--an old-world stream running underneath it. It gave one the
impression that it had always been like that. Always the stream under
the bridge. Never the bridge under the stream. But now that the Garden
Settlement had come things might be very different. Houses were going
up; Mr. Doom Dagshaw's Mammoth Circus was going up; even the rates
were going up.

At the end of his honeymoon Luke Sharper went to see a man about a
dog, and left his wife to prepare Jawbones for his accommodation. She
was a good housekeeper, and Luke acknowledged it. Whenever he thought
about her at all, he always added "but she _is_ a good housekeeper."
He was desperately fair.

"This," said Mabel, opening a door, as Luke began his visit of
inspection, "this is your den."

Luke's ears moved. He kissed her twice. "But, you know, I cannot bear
it. There are some words which I am unable to endure, such as
salt-cellar, tuberculosis, tennis-net and den."

"Very well," said Mabel, a little coldly, "we'll call it your cage.
And just look. There is a pair of my father's old slippers that I have
brought for you. Size thirteen. You've got none quite like that, have
you?"

He put one arm round her waist.

"Where did you say the dustbin was?" he asked.

"But," she said amazed, "you don't mean to say----Surely you wear
slippers?"

"I never was," he replied firmly. Nor did he.

"And now," said Mabel, "come into the kitchen and see the two maids
that I have engaged. Two nice respectable sisters named Morse--Ellen
Morse and----"

"There isn't an 'l' in Morse," he said gloomily.

"And Kate Morse," Mabel continued.

She opened the door into the spotless kitchen, and the two maids
sprang instantly to attention. One of them was cleaning silver, the
other was still lingering over tea. The first was very long, an