to the works for a clerk to
come up, and she refrained from telling Stephen that he must have been
very careless while in London, to catch a cold like that. Her
self-denial in this respect surprised Stephen, but he put it down to
the beneficent influence of Christmas and the Venetian vases.

Bostock's pair-horse van arrived before the garden gate earlier than
her worse fears had anticipated, and Bostock's men were evidently in a
tremendous hurry that morning. In quite an abnormally small number of
seconds the wooden case containing the fragile music-stool was lying in
the inner hall, waiting to be unpacked. Having signed the delivery-book
Vera stood staring at the accusatory package. Stephen was lounging over
the dining-room fire, perhaps dozing. She would have the thing swiftly
transported up-stairs and hidden in an attic for a time.

But just then Stephen popped out of the dining-room. Stephen's
masculine curiosity had been aroused by the advent of Bostock's van. He
had observed the incoming of the package from the window, and he had
ventured to the hall to inspect it. The event had roused him
wonderfully from the heavy torpor which a cold induces. He wore a
dressing-gown, the pockets of which bulged with handkerchiefs.

'You oughtn't to be out here, Stephen,' said his wife.

'Nonsense!' he said. 'Why, upon my soul, this steam heat is warmer than
the dining-room fire.' Vera, silenced by the voice of truth, could not
reply.

Stephen bent his great height to inspect the package. It was an
appetizing Christmas package; straw escaped from between its ribs, and
it had an air of being filled with something at once large and delicate.

'Oh!' observed Stephen, humorously. 'Ah! So this is it, is it? Ah! Oh!
Very good!'

And he walked round it.

How on earth had he learnt that she had bought it? She had not
mentioned the purchase to Mr Woodruff.

'Yes, Stephen,' she said timidly. 'That's it, and I hope--'

'It ought to hold a tidy few cigars, that ought,' remarked Stephen
complacently.

He took it for the cigar-cabinet!

She paused, struck. She had to make up her mind in an instant.

'Oh yes,' she murmured.

'A thousand?'

'Yes, a thousand,' she said.

'I thought so,' murmured Stephen. 'I mustn't kiss you, because I've got
a cold,' said he. 'But, all the same I'm awfully obliged, Vera. Suppose
we have it opened now, eh? Then we could decide where it is to go, and
I could put my cigars in it.'

'Oh no,' s