ot
being very suitable; but that did not matter; Julia declared it
perfect. This was the only form of hypocrisy she practised in the
simple life; possibly, if she thought of the will more than the deed,
it was really not such great hypocrisy. At all events she practised
it; she did not think truth so beautiful that frail daily life must be
the better for its undiluted and uncompromising application to all
poor little tender efforts.

During tea the great subject of conversation was the hen house. The
last occupant of the cottage had kept hens and all the out-buildings
were in good repair; however, a recent gale had loosened part of the
roof of this one, and Captain Polkington had been mending it. There
had not been much to do; the Captain could not do a great deal; his
faculties of work--if he ever had any--had atrophied for want of use.
Still, he thought he had done a good day's work, and, as a
consequence, was important and inclined to be exacting. That is the
reason why he had neglected the dinner things; he felt that a man who
had done all he had was entitled to some rest and consideration. Julia
did not mind in the least; if he was happy and contented, that was all
she wished; she never reckoned his help as one of the assets of the
household. For that matter, she had not reckoned Mr. Gillat's of much
value either, but there she found she was a little mistaken. Johnny
was very slow and very laborious and really ingenious in finding a
wrong way of doing things even when she thought she had left him no
choice, but he was very painstaking and persevering. He would do
anything he was told, and he took the greatest pleasure in doing it.
Whether it was digging in the garden, or feeding the pigs, or
collecting firewood, or setting the table for meals, he was certain to
do everything to the best of his ability, and was perfectly happy if
she would employ him. There can be no doubt that the coming to White's
Cottage began a time of real happiness to Mr. Gillat; possibly the
happiest since his wealthy boyhood when he spent lavishly and
indiscriminately on anybody and everybody. The Captain was less happy;
his satisfaction was of an intermittent order. His discontent did not
take the form of wishing to go back to Marbridge or to join his wife,
only in feeling oppressed and misunderstood, and wishing occasionally
that he had not been born or had been born rich--and of course
remained so all his life. He was dissatisfied that e