the gentleman of independent means to gainsay him,
especially as the latter's wife became a convert to Mr. Bartlett on the
spot. It was his responsible and practical manner that did it. She
directed her husband--a feeble sample of the manhood of Brixton--not to
set up his judgment against that of professional experience, but to
affix his signature forthwith to the document made and provided. He
said weakly:--"I suppose I must." The lady said:--"Oh dear, no!--he must
do as he liked." He naturally surrendered at discretion, and an almost
holy expression of contentment stole over Mr. Bartlett's countenance,
superseding his complexion, which otherwise was apt to remain on the
memory after its outlines were forgotten.

To return once more to the drying of the premises after their
reconstruction. The accepted view seemed to be that as soon as Mr.
Bartlett and his abettors cleared out and died away, the walls would
begin to dry, and would make up for lost time. Everyone seemed inclined
to palliate this backwardness in the walls, and to feel that they,
themselves, had they been in a like position, could not have done much
drying--with all them workmen in and out all day; just think!

But now a new era had dawned, and what with letting the air through, and
setting alight to a bit of fire now and again, and the season keeping
mild and favourable, with only light frosts in the early morning--only
what could you expect just on to Christmas?--there seemed grounds for
the confidence that these walls would do themselves credit, and yield up
their chemically uncombined water by evaporation. HO2, who existed in
those days, was welcome to stay where he was.

However, these walls refused to come to the scratch on any terms. Homer
is silent as to how long the walls of Ilium took to dry; they must have
been wet if they were built by Neptune. But one may be excused for
doubting if they took as long as wet new plaster does, in premises
parties are waiting to come into, and getting impatient, in London.
Ascribe this laxity of style to the historian's fidelity to his sources
of information.

Not that it would be a fair comparison, in any case. For the walls of
Troy were peculiar, having become a meadow with almost indecent haste
during the boyhood of Ascanius, who was born before Achilles lost his
temper; and before the decease of Anchises, who was old enough to be
unable to walk at the sacking of the city. But no doubt you will say
that t