had given far more pleasure than the costlier presents of later
years.

"The next article I draw your attention to is a sofer," went on the
voice, sounding suddenly closer; and with a great trampling and
shuffling the crowd trooped after it to the adjoining room. "And a very
easy and comfortable piece o' furniture it is, too. A bit shabby and
worn 'ere and there, but not any the worse of that. You don't need to
worry if the kids play puff-puffs on it; and it fits the shape o' the
body all the better.--Any one like to try it? Jest the very thing for a
tired gent 'ome from biz, or 'andy to pop your lady on when she
faints--as the best of ladies will! Any h'offers? Mr. de la
Plastrier"--he said "Deelay plastreer"--"a guinea? Thank you, mister.
One guinea! Going a guinea!--Now, COME on, ladies and gen'elmen! D'ye
think I've got a notion to make you a present of it? What's that?
Two-and-twenty? Gawd! Is this a tiddlin' match?"

How proud he had been of that sofa! In his first surgery he had had
nowhere to lay an aching head. Well worn? Small wonder! He would like
to know how many hundreds of times he had flung himself down on it,
utterly played out. He had been used to lie there of an evening, too,
when Mary came in to chat about household affairs, or report on her
day's doings. And he remembered another time, when he had spent the
last hours of a distracted night on it ... and how, between sleeping
and waking, he had strained his ears for footsteps that never came.

The sofa was knocked down to his butcher for a couple of pounds, and
the crying--or decrying--of his bookcases began. He could stand no more
of it. Sweeping his papers into a bag, he guiltily unlocked the door
and stole out by way of kitchen and back gate.

But once outside he did not know where to go or what to do. Leaving the
town behind him he made for the Lake, and roved aimlessly and
disconsolately about, choosing sheltered paths and remote roads where
he would be unlikely to run the gauntlet of acquaintances. For he
shrank from recognition on this particular day, when all his domestic
privacies were being bared to the public view. But altogether of late
he had fought shy of meeting people. Their hard, matter-of-fact faces
showed him only too plainly what they thought of him. At first he had
been fool enough to scan them eagerly, in the hope of finding one
saving touch of sympathy or comprehension. But he might as well have
looked for grief in the eyes