pen the sash. "Who's there? What is it?"

Henry Ocock's groom. "I was to fetch you out to our place at once,
governor."

"But--Is Mrs. Henry taken ill?"

"Not as I know of," said the man dryly. "But her and the boss had a bit
of a tiff on the way home, and Madam's excited-like."

"And am I to pay for their tiffs?" muttered Mahony hotly.

"Hush, Richard! He'll hear you," warned Mary, and sat up.

"I shall decline to go. Henry's a regular old woman."

Mary shook her head. "You can't afford to offend the Henrys. And you
know what he is so hasty. He'd call in some one else on the spot, and
you'd never get back. If only you hadn't stayed out so long, dear,
looking at the moon!"

"Good God! Mary, is one never to have a moment to oneself? Never a
particle of pleasure or relaxation?"

"Why, Richard!" expostulated his wife, and even felt a trifle ashamed
of his petulance. "What would you call to-night, I wonder? Wasn't the
whole evening one of pleasure and relaxation?"

And Mahony, struggling into shirt and trousers, had to admit that he
would be hard put to it to give it another name.

Chapter IV

Hush, dolly! Mustn't cry, and make a noise. Uncle Richard's cross.

Trotty sat on a hassock and rocked a china babe, with all the
appurtenant mother-fuss she had picked up from the tending of her tiny
stepsister. The present Trotty was a demure little maid of some seven
summers, who gave the impression of having been rather rudely
elongated. Her flaxen hair was stiffly imprisoned behind a round black
comb; and her big blue eyes alone remained to her from a lovely
infancy. ("Poor Emma's eyes," said Mary.)

Imitative as a monkey she went on--with a child's perfect knowledge
that it is all make-believe, yet with an entire credence in the power
of make-believe: "Naughty child--WILL you be quiet? There! You've frown
your counterpane off now. Wonder what next you'll do. I declare I'll
slap you soon--you make me so cross."

Through the surgery-window the words floated out: "For goodness' sake,
don't bother me now with such trifles, Mary! It's not the moment--with
a whole string of people waiting in the other room."

"Well, if only you'll be satisfied with what I do, dear, and not blame
me afterwards."

"Get Purdy to give you a hand with Ned's affair. He has time and to
spare." And wetting his finger-tip Mahony nervously flipped over a
dozen pages of the book that lay open before him.

"Well ... if you think I sho