see," replies Eleanor, peeling a banana. There is a pause, then she
looks up and repeats uncertainly: "I see, Philip."

"You will try and make a good little housekeeper and manage everything
splendidly. I often think of you, Eleanor, in your peaceful
domesticity at Copthorne. How quiet it was, and----"

"How _dull_!" (sighing).

It all comes back with a rush--the pewter dinner service, and spotless
parlour, smelling of lavender and soap, the cackle of hens and lowing
of cows. Eleanor pushes aside the dish of bananas, "Let us go out in
the moonlight," she says. "It is lovely in the garden, and you can
smoke. Let me light your cigar?" striking a match on the sole of her
velvet slipper, and narrowly escaping burning her pink silk train.

"You must not do that, dear, it is dangerous," remonstrates Philip.

"Oh, no! not if you put up your foot so," illustrating her meaning by
striking another. "What is that pretty yellow stuff you are drinking?"

"Chartreuse."

Eleanor kneels down by his side and sips out of his glass. "What queer
tasting stuff, not half as nice as elderberry wine!"

"Don't you like it?"

"No; it's almost as nasty as the cowslip tea I used to make. But do
come for a stroll; I like wandering about in this long silk gown, it
feels so grand."

"What myriads of stars!" exclaims Philip, who is well versed in
astronomy. "Don't they make you feel like a mere atom, Eleanor, when
you think they are all worlds?"

"No, I never bother my head about stars. I like moonlight, it's so
pretty, and the moonbeams look ghostly and fairylike. But isn't it
cold in the garden? I only just realise that summer is over, and what
an eventful summer it has been for me! The other girls at Copthorne
were mad with jealousy at my wedding. They all want to marry gentlemen
now, and come to London. Do you remember the schoolchildren, Philip?
How they scattered flowers and crowded round to kiss me. I gave them
my wedding cake (or rather what was left of it) when we went, and the
three cheers for 'Teacher' is quite the nicest recollection."
Eleanor's passionate love for children pleases her husband, it shows
that her nature is good. He puts his arm lovingly round her as they
return to the house.

"Are you happy, Eleanor?" he whispers. A soft brightness creeps into
her eyes.

"Yes, Philip, there isn't a lighter heart in Richmond!"

* * * * *

"Oh! dear, more cards! I returned the