Of
history proper he of course knew nothing, but these splinters of
quasi-historic evidence had run deep into his flesh. Despise him, if
you like, but try to understand him. It was his very humaneness which
brought him to this pass; recitals of old savagery had poisoned his
blood, and the 'spirit of the age' churned his crude acquisitions into
a witch's cauldron. Academic sweetness and light was a feeble antidote
to offer him.

Gilbert soothed his companion for the time. He knew where to stop, and
promised himself to find a fitter season for pursuing the same subject.
Just as he had reverted to the topic of conversation which brought him
here, there came a knock at the door.

'Come in!' growled Bunce.

Totty Nancarrow appeared. One of her hands led a little fellow of
seven, a bright lad, munching a 'treacle-stick;' the other, a little
girl a year younger, who exclaimed as she entered:

'Been a walk with Miss Nanco!'

'We've been to the butcher's with Miss Nancarrow, father,' declared the
boy, consciously improving on his sister's report.

Totty had drawn back a step at the sight of Grail. He and she knew each
other by sight, but had not yet exchanged words.

'I found them in the dark, Mr. Bunce,' she said, half laughing. 'Mrs.
Ladds was out, and couldn't get back in time to light the lamp for
them. I hope you don't mind. I thought a little bit of a walk 'ud do
them good.'

Bunce always softened at the sight of his little ones.

'I'm much obliged to you, Miss Nancarrow,' he said.

'Miss Nanco bought me sweets,' remarked little Nelly, when her father
had drawn her between his knees. And she exhibited a half-sucked
lollipop. Her brother hid away his own delicacy, feeling all at once
that it compromised his masculine superiority.

'Then I'm very angry with Miss Nanco,' replied Bunce. 'I hope she'll
never do anything o' the kind again.'

Totty laughed and drew back into the passage. Thence she said:

'Could I speak to you a minute, Mr. Bunce?'

He went out to her, and half closed the door behind him. Totty led him
a step or two down the stairs, then whispered:

'I'm so sorry, Mr. Bunce, but I find I can't very well go on Saturday.
But I've just seen Miss Trent, the one that's going to marry Mr. Grail,
you know; and she says she'd be only too glad to go, that is if Mr.
Grail 'll let her, and she's quite sure he will. Would you ask Mr.
Grail? Thyrza--that's Miss Trent, I mean--was so anxious; she's never
be