haracters at a distance--such a great thing in the suburbs. I feel I
can leave Mrs. Wilson alone now; and, formerly, you have no idea how she
used to be pestered.'

'But how about visitors?' said Darnell. 'How do they get in?'

'Oh, we put them up to it. Besides,' he said vaguely, 'there is sure to
be somebody looking out. Mrs. Wilson is nearly always at the window.
She's out now; gone to call on some friends. The Bennetts' At Home day,
I think it is. This is the first Saturday, isn't it? You know J. W.
Bennett, don't you? Ah, he's in the House; doing very well, I believe.
He put me on to a very good thing the other day.'

'But, I say,' said Wilson, as they turned and strolled towards the front
door, 'what do you wear those black things for? You look hot. Look at
me. Well, I've been gardening, you know, but I feel as cool as a
cucumber. I dare say you don't know where to get these things? Very few
men do. Where do you suppose I got 'em?'

'In the West End, I suppose,' said Darnell, wishing to be polite.

'Yes, that's what everybody says. And it is a good cut. Well, I'll tell
you, but you needn't pass it on to everybody. I got the tip from
Jameson--you know him, "Jim-Jams," in the China trade, 39 Eastbrook--and
he said he didn't want everybody in the City to know about it. But just
go to Jennings, in Old Wall, and mention my name, and you'll be all
right. And what d'you think they cost?'

'I haven't a notion,' said Darnell, who had never bought such a suit in
his life.

'Well, have a guess.'

Darnell regarded Wilson gravely.

The jacket hung about his body like a sack, the knickerbockers drooped
lamentably over his calves, and in prominent positions the bloom of the
heather seemed about to fade and disappear.

'Three pounds, I suppose, at least,' he said at length.

'Well, I asked Dench, in our place, the other day, and he guessed four
ten, and his father's got something to do with a big business in Conduit
Street. But I only gave thirty-five and six. To measure? Of course; look
at the cut, man.'

Darnell was astonished at so low a price.

'And, by the way,' Wilson went on, pointing to his new brown boots, 'you
know where to go for shoe-leather? Oh, I thought everybody was up to
that! There's only one place. "Mr. Bill," in Gunning Street,--nine and
six.'

They were walking round and round the garden, and Wilson pointed out the
flowers in the beds and borders. There were hardly any blossoms, but
everythi