this little house, the garden, even those absurd
goldfish that are always looking for nothing."

"Well, but the heat!"

His voice did not sound reluctant or protesting, only a little doubtful
and surprised.

"Lots of people stay. Algiers doesn't empty of human beings, only of
travellers, because it's summer. And we are up on a height."

"That's true. And I could work on quietly."

"Absolutely undisturbed."

"The only thing is I meant to see Jernington."

Jernington was the professor with whom Claude studied orchestration in
London.

"Get him over here."

"Jernington! Why, he never leaves London!"

"Get him to for a month. We'll pay all his expenses and everything, of
course."

"How you go ahead!" he said, laughing. "You must be a twin of Alston's,
I think."

"What has got to be done can be done."

"Well, but the expense; you know, Charmian, we live right up to our
income."

"Hang the expense! Oh, as Alston would say!"

He laughed.

"You really are a marvellous wife!"

"Am I? Am I?"

"I might sound old Jernington. He'll think I'm raving mad, but still--"

"I only hope," she said, smiling and eager, "that he won't be so raving
sane as to refuse."

"But what will Madre think, not seeing you--us, I mean?"

Charmian looked grave.

"Yes, I know. But Madre has never come to see us here."

"Oh, Charmian, there could never be a cloud between Madre and us!"

"No, no, never! Still, why has she never come?"

"She really hates the sea. You know she has never in her life done more
than cross the Channel."

"Do you think that is the reason why she has never come?"

"How can I know?"

"Claude, Madre is strange sometimes. Don't you think so?"

"Strange? She is absolutely herself. She does not take anyone else's
color, if that is what you mean. I love that in her."

"So do I. Still, I think she is strange."

At this moment Alston came in and the conversation dropped. But both
husband and wife thought many times of "Madre" that day, and not without
a certain uneasiness. Was the heart of the mother with them in their
enterprise?

Charmian put that question to herself. But Claude did not put it. He
thought of Mrs. Mansfield's intense and fiery eyes. They saw far, saw
deep. He loved them, the look in them. But he must try to forget them.
He must give himself to the enthusiasm of his wife and of Alston Lake.

He sent a long telegram to Jernington, saying how difficult it was for
him to leave Musta