so agreeable.

"I suppose I can believe my own ears?" he said, in an injured voice.

"He must have been making fun of them all," said Selina. "He couldn't
have burnt it--he couldn't."

"Why not?" inquired the other, surprised at her vehemence.

Miss Vickers hesitated. "Because it would be such a silly thing to do,"
she said, at last. "Now, tell me what you heard all over again--slow."

Mr. Tasker complied.

"I can't make head or tail of it," said Miss Vickers when he had
finished.

"Seems simple enough to me," said Joseph, staring at her.

"All things seem simple when you don't know them," said Miss Vickers,
vaguely.

She walked home in a thoughtful mood, and for a day or two went about the
house with an air of preoccupation which was a source of much speculation
to the family. George Vickers, aged six, was driven to the verge of
madness by being washed. Three times in succession one morning; a gag of
well-soaped flannel being applied with mechanical regularity each time
that he strove to point out the unwashed condition of Martha and Charles.
His turn came when the exultant couple, charged with having made
themselves dirty in the shortest time on record, were deprived of their
breakfast. Mr. Vickers, having committed one or two minor misdemeanours
unchallenged, attributed his daughter's condition to love, and began to
speak of that passion with more indulgence than he had done since his
marriage.

Miss Vickers's' abstraction, however, lasted but three days. On the
fourth she was herself again, and, having spent the day in hard work,
dressed herself with unusual care in the evening and went out.

The evening was fine and the air, to one who had been at work indoors all
day, delightful. Miss Vickers walked briskly along with the smile of a
person who has solved a difficult problem, but as she drew near the Horse
and Groom, a hostelry of retiring habits, standing well back from the
road, the smile faded and she stood face to face with the stern realities
of life.

[Illustration: "She stood face to face with the stern realities of
life."]

A few yards from the side-door Mr. Vickers stood smoking a contemplative
pipe; the side-door itself had just closed behind a tall man in
corduroys, who bore in his right hand a large mug made of pewter.

"Ho!" said Selina, "so this is how you go on the moment my back is
turned, is it?"

"What d'ye mean?" demanded Mr. Vickers, blustering.

"You know what I mea