asked as to a
composition, to receive as a reason for the request the extremely
gratifying assurance that she was "good" at punctuation and spelling. It
gave the would-be author a comfortable feeling that, after all, he was
only asking advice on the crudest technical matters on which Hester's
superiority could be admitted without a loss of masculine self-respect.

"I would rather not tamper with punctuation and spelling," said Hester,
dryly. "I am so shaky on both myself. You had better ask the
school-master. He knows all that sort of ABC better than I do."

Mr. Gresley frowned, and looked suspiciously at her. He wanted Hester's
opinion, of which she was perfectly aware. But she intended that he
should ask for it.

Mrs. Gresley, behind the coffee-pot, felt that she was overlooked. She
had helped Mr. Gresley with his numerous literary efforts until Hester
came.

"I saw you correcting some one's manuscript last week," he said. "You
were at it all day in the hay-field."

"That was different. I was asked to criticise the style and
composition."

"Oh, well," said Mr. Gresley, "don't let us split hairs. I don't want an
argument about it. If you'll come into my study at ten o'clock I'll get
it off my hands at once."

"With pleasure," said Hester, looking at him with rueful admiration. She
had tried a hundred times to get the better of him in conversation, but
she had not yet succeeded.

"I have a message for you," continued Mr. Gresley, in restored
good-humor. "Mrs. Loftus writes that she is returning to Wilderleigh at
the end of the week, and that the sale of work may take place in the
Wilderleigh gardens at the end of August. And--let me see, I will read
what she says:

"'I am not unmindful of our conversation on the duty of those who go
annually to London to bring a spiritual influence to bear on
society'--("I impressed that upon her before she went up.")--'We had a
most interesting dinner-party last week, nearly all celebrated and
gifted persons, and the conversation was really beyond anything I can
describe to you. I thought my poor brain would turn. I was quite afraid
to join in. But Mr. Harvey--the great Mr. Harvey--told me afterwards I
was at my best. One lady, Miss Barker, who has done so much for the East
End, is coming down to Wilderleigh shortly for a rest. I am anxious you
should talk to her. She says she has doubts, and she is tired of the
Bible. By the way, please tell Hester, with my love, that she