th her load,
and then he came back rubbing his hands: "Well, are you grateful?
You'll never see that again."

Percival surveyed him with a grave smile. "I'm grateful," he said.
"But I'd rather you didn't treat all the things which offend my eye in
the same way."

Bertie glanced round at the furniture, cheap, mean and shabby: "You
think I should have too much smashing to do?"

"I fear it might end in my sitting cross-legged on the floor," said
Thorne. "And my successor might cavil at Mrs. Bryant's idea of
furnished lodgings."

"Well, I know I've done you a good turn to-day," Bertie rejoined: "my
conscience approves of my conduct." And he went off whistling.

Percival, on his way out, met Lydia on the landing. "Miss Bryant, have
you a moment to spare?" he said as she went rustling past.

She stopped ungraciously.

"The flower-vase on my table is broken. If you can tell me what it
cost I will pay for it."

"Mr. Lisle broke it, didn't he? Emma said--"

"No matter," said Thorne: "it was done in my room. It is no concern of
Mr. Lisle's. Can you tell me?"

Lydia hesitated. Should she let him pay for it? Some faint touch of
refinement told her that she should not take money for what she had
meant as a love-gift. She looked up and met the utter indifference of
his eyes as he stood, purse in hand, before her. She was ashamed of
the remembrance that she had tried to attract his attention, and
burned to deny it. "Well, then, it was three-and-six," she said.

Percival put the money in her hand. She eyed it discontentedly.

"That's right, isn't it?" he asked in some surprise.

The touch of the coins recalled to her the pleasure with which she had
spent her own three-and-sixpence to brighten his room, and she half
repented. "Oh, it's right enough," she said. "But I don't know why you
should pay for it. Things will get knocked over--"

"I beg your pardon: of course I ought to pay for it," he replied,
drawing himself up. He spoke the more decidedly that he knew how it
was broken. "But, Miss Bryant, it will not be necessary to replace it.
I don't think anything of the kind would be very safe in the middle of
my table." And with a bow he went on his way.

Lydia stood where he had left her, fingering his half-crown and
shilling with an uneasy sense that there was something very mean about
the transaction. Now that she had taken his money she disliked him
much more, but, as she _had_ taken it, she went away and bought
he