short notice. 'I only hear vague
reports of such things.'

'You may think it will be all right,' said Barnet drily. 'But I have a
different opinion . . . No, Downe, we must look the thing in the face.
Not poppy nor mandragora--however, how are your wife and children?'

Downe said that they were all well, thanks; they were out that morning
somewhere; he was just looking to see if they were walking that way. Ah,
there they were, just coming down the street; and Downe pointed to the
figures of two children with a nursemaid, and a lady walking behind them.

'You will come out and speak to her?' he asked.

'Not this morning. The fact is I don't care to speak to anybody just
now.'

'You are too sensitive, Mr. Barnet. At school I remember you used to get
as red as a rose if anybody uttered a word that hurt your feelings.'

Barnet mused. 'Yes,' he admitted, 'there is a grain of truth in that. It
is because of that I often try to make peace at home. Life would be
tolerable then at any rate, even if not particularly bright.'

'I have thought more than once of proposing a little plan to you,' said
Downe with some hesitation. 'I don't know whether it will meet your
views, but take it or leave it, as you choose. In fact, it was my wife
who suggested it: that she would be very glad to call on Mrs. Barnet and
get into her confidence. She seems to think that Mrs. Barnet is rather
alone in the town, and without advisers. Her impression is that your
wife will listen to reason. Emily has a wonderful way of winning the
hearts of people of her own sex.'

'And of the other sex too, I think. She is a charming woman, and you
were a lucky fellow to find her.'

'Well, perhaps I was,' simpered Downe, trying to wear an aspect of being
the last man in the world to feel pride. 'However, she will be likely to
find out what ruffles Mrs. Barnet. Perhaps it is some misunderstanding,
you know--something that she is too proud to ask you to explain, or some
little thing in your conduct that irritates her because she does not
fully comprehend you. The truth is, Emily would have been more ready to
make advances if she had been quite sure of her fitness for Mrs. Barnet's
society, who has of course been accustomed to London people of good
position, which made Emily fearful of intruding.'

Barnet expressed his warmest thanks for the well-intentioned proposition.
There was reason in Mrs. Downe's fear--that he owned. 'But do let her
c