-school groups, Watts' "Sir Percival," a
dog running after a rabbit, a man running after a maid, a cheap brown
Madonna in a cheap green frame--in short, a collection where one
mediocrity was generally cancelled by another. Over the door there hung
a long photograph of a city with waterways, which Agnes, who had never
been to Venice, took to be Venice, but which people who had been to
Stockholm knew to be Stockholm. Rickie's mother, looking rather sweet,
was standing on the mantelpiece. Some more pictures had just arrived
from the framers and were leaning with their faces to the wall, but she
did not bother to turn them round. On the table were dirty teacups, a
flat chocolate cake, and Omar Khayyam, with an Oswego biscuit between
his pages. Also a vase filled with the crimson leaves of autumn. This
made her smile.

Then she saw her host's shoes: he had left them lying on the sofa.
Rickie was slightly deformed, and so the shoes were not the same size,
and one of them had a thick heel to help him towards an even walk.
"Ugh!" she exclaimed, and removed them gingerly to the bedroom. There
she saw other shoes and boots and pumps, a whole row of them, all
deformed. "Ugh! Poor boy! It is too bad. Why shouldn't he be like other
people? This hereditary business is too awful." She shut the door with
a sigh. Then she recalled the perfect form of Gerald, his athletic walk,
the poise of his shoulders, his arms stretched forward to receive her.
Gradually she was comforted.

"I beg your pardon, miss, but might I ask how many to lay?" It was the
bedmaker, Mrs. Aberdeen.

"Three, I think," said Agnes, smiling pleasantly. "Mr. Elliot'll be back
in a minute. He has gone to order dinner.

"Thank you, miss."

"Plenty of teacups to wash up!"

"But teacups is easy washing, particularly Mr. Elliot's."

"Why are his so easy?"

"Because no nasty corners in them to hold the dirt. Mr. Anderson--he's
below-has crinkly noctagons, and one wouldn't believe the difference.
It was I bought these for Mr. Elliot. His one thought is to save one
trouble. I never seed such a thoughtful gentleman. The world, I say,
will be the better for him." She took the teacups into the gyp room, and
then returned with the tablecloth, and added, "if he's spared."

"I'm afraid he isn't strong," said Agnes.

"Oh, miss, his nose! I don't know what he'd say if he knew I mentioned
his nose, but really I must speak to someone, and he has neither father
nor mother. Hi