le, you are stupid and
disagreeable. Is that all you have to say?"

"Pa's cross, Johnny dear! poor Pa!--people have vexed Pa,
Johnny--naughty people. We must go or we shall vex him too."

Such heavenly sweetness on the part of a forbearing wife would have
softened Tamburlane. Poole's sullen brow relaxed. If women knew how to
treat men, not a husband, unhenpecked, would be found from Indos to the
Pole.

And Poole, for all his surly demeanour, was as completely governed by
that angel as a bear by his keeper.

"Well, Mrs. Poole, excuse me. I own I am out of sorts to-day--give me
little Johnny--there (kissing the infant; who in return makes a dig at
Pa's left eye, and begins to cry on finding that he has not succeeded
in digging it out)--take the brougham. Hush, Johnny--hush--and you
may leave a card for me at Mr. Peckham's, Harley Street. My eye smarts
horribly; that baby will gouge me one of these days."

Mrs. Poole had succeeded in stilling the infant, and confessing that
Johnny's fingers are extremely strong for his age--but, adding that
babies will catch at whatever is very bright and beautiful, such as
gold and jewels and Mr. Poole's eyes, administers to the wounded orb
so soothing a lotion of pity and admiration that Poole growls out quite
mildly: "Nonsense, blarney--by the by, I did not say this morning that
you should not have the rosewood chiffoniere!"

"No, you said you could not afford it, duck; and when Pa says he can't
afford it, Pa must be the judge--must not he, Johnny dear?"

"But perhaps I can afford it. Yes, you may have it yes, I say, you shall
have it. Don't forget to leave that card on Peckham--he's a moneyed man.
There's a ring at the bell. Who is it? run and see."

Mrs. Poole obeyed with great activity, considering her interesting
condition. She came back in half a minute. "Oh, my Adolphus--I oh,
my Samuel! it is that dreadful-looking man who was here the other
evening--stayed with you so long. I don't like his looks at all. Pray
don't be at home."

"I must," said Poole, turning a shade paler, if that were possible.
"Stop--don't let that girl go to the door; and you--leave me." He
snatched his hat and gloves, and putting aside the parlour-maid, who
had emerged from the shades below in order to answer the "ring," walked
hastily down the small garden.

Jasper Losely was stationed at the little gate. Jasper was no longer in
rags, but he was coarsely clad--clad as if he had resigned all prete