our husband would like his paper
back again, Mrs. Bunting."

Mrs. Bunting, looking at him fixedly, with a sad intensity of gaze
of which she was quite unconscious, answered, "Oh, no, sir!
Bunting don't require that paper now. He read it all through."
Something impelled her to add, ruthlessly, "He's got another paper
by now, sir. You may have heard them come shouting outside. Would
you like me to bring you up that other paper, sir?"

And Mr. Sleuth shook his head. "No," he said querulously. "I much
regret now having asked for the one paper I did read, for it
disturbed me, Mrs. Bunting. There was nothing of any value in it--
there never is in any public print. I gave up reading newspapers
years ago, and I much regret that I broke though my rule to-day."

As if to indicate to her that he did not wish for any more
conversation, the lodger then did what he had never done before in
his landlady's presence. He went over to the fireplace and
deliberately turned his back on her.

She went down and brought up the glass of milk and the lump of
sugar he had asked for.

Now he was in his usual place, sitting at the table, studying the
Book.

When Mrs. Bunting went back to the others they were chatting
merrily. She did not notice that the merriment was confined to the
two young people.

"Well?" said Daisy pertly. "How about the lodger, Ellen? Is he
all right?"

"Yes," she said stiffly. "Of course he is!"

"He must feel pretty dull sitting up there all by himself--awful
lonely-like, I call it," said the girl.

But her, stepmother remained silent.

"Whatever does he do with himself all day?" persisted Daisy.

"Just now he's reading the Bible," Mrs. Bunting answered, shortly
and dryly.

"Well, I never! That's a funny thing for a gentleman to do!"

And Joe, alone of her three listeners, laughed--a long hearty peal
of amusement.

"There's nothing to laugh at," said Mrs. Bunting sharply. "I should
feel ashamed of being caught laughing at anything connected with the
Bible."

And poor Joe became suddenly quite serious. This was the first time
that Mrs. Bunting had ever spoken really nastily to him, and he
answered very humbly, "I beg pardon. I know I oughtn't to have
laughed at anything to do with the Bible, but you see, Miss Daisy
said it so funny-like, and, by all accounts, your lodger must be a
queer card, Mrs. Bunting."

"He's no queerer than many people I could mention," she said quickly;
and with these enigmat