esitated, drawling, and then he told her a great deal of what
was in his mind. And she carefully put the wool-marker in her book and
shut it, and listened to him. And the fire dropped and dropped,
comfortably. She did not understand him; obviously she thought his
desire to be an architect exceedingly odd; but she sympathised. Her
attitude was soothing and fortifying. After all (he reflected) Maggie's
all right--there's some sense in Maggie. He could `get on' with Maggie.
For a few moments he was happy and hopeful.

"I thought I'd write him a letter," he said. "You know how he is to
talk to."

There was a pause.

"What d'ye think?" he questioned.

"I should," said Maggie.

"Then I shall!" he exclaimed. "How d'ye think he'll take it?"

"Well," said Maggie, "I don't see how he can do aught but take it all
right... Depends how you put it, of course."

"Oh, you leave that to me!" said Edwin, with eager confidence. "I shall
put it all right. You trust me for that!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

FIVE.

Clara danced into the room, flowing over with infantile joy. She had
been listening to part of the conversation behind the door.

"So he wants to be an architect! Arch-i-tect! Arch-i-tect!" She
half-sang the word in a frenzy of ridicule. She really did dance, and
waved her arms. Her eyes glittered, as if in rapture. These singular
manifestations of her temperament were caused solely by the strangeness
of the idea of Edwin wanting to be an architect. The strange sight of
him with his hair cut short or in a new neck-tie affected her in a
similar manner.

"Clara, go and put your pinafore on this instant!" said Maggie. "You
know you oughtn't to leave it off."

"You needn't be so hoity-toity, miss," Clara retorted. But she moved to
obey. When she reached the door she turned again and gleefully taunted
Edwin. "And it's all because he went for a walk yesterday with Mr
Orgreave! I know! I know! You needn't think I didn't see you, because
I did! Arch-i-tect! Arch-i-tect!"

She vanished, on all her springs, spitefully graceful.

"You might almost think that infernal kid was right bang off her head,"
Edwin muttered crossly. (Still, it was extraordinary how that infernal
kid hit on the truth.)

Maggie began to mend the fire.

"Oh, well!" murmured Maggie, conveying to Edwin that no importance must
be attached to the chit's chittishness.

He went