LITMIR.BIZ

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and with a row of acacias in front. He admitted himself with a latch-key and walked at once into the front room; it was vacant. He went to the dining-room and there found his mother at tea with Alice and ‘Arry.

      Mrs. Mutimer and her younger son were in appearance very much what they had been in their former state. The mother’s dress was of better material, but she was not otherwise outwardly changed. ‘Arry was attired nearly as when we saw him in a festive condition on the evening of Easter Sunday; the elegance then reserved for high days and holidays now distinguished him every evening when the guise of the workshop was thrown off. He still wore a waistcoat of pronounced cut, a striking collar, a necktie of remarkable hue. It was not necessary to approach him closely to be aware that his person was sprinkled with perfumes. A recent acquisition was a heavy-looking ring on the little finger of his right hand. Had you been of his intimates, ‘Arry would have explained to you the double advantage of this ring; not only did it serve as an adornment, but, as playful demonstration might indicate, it would prove of singular efficacy in pugilistic conflict.

      At the sight of his elder brother, ‘Arry hastily put his hands beneath the table, drew off the ornament, and consigned it furtively to his waistcoat pocket.

      But Alice Maud was by no means what she had been. In all that concerned his sister, Mutimer was weak; he could quarrel with her, and abuse her roundly for frailties, but none the less was it one of his keenest pleasures to see her contented, even in ways that went quite against his conscience. He might rail against the vanity of dress, but if Alice needed a new gown, Richard was the first to notice it. The neat little silver watch she carried was a gift from himself of some years back; with difficulty he had resisted the temptation to replace it with a gold one now that it was in his power to do so. Tolerable taste and handiness with her needle had always kept Alice rather more ladylike in appearance than the girls of her class are wont to be, but such comparative distinction no longer sufficed. After certain struggles with himself, Richard had told his mother that Alice must in future dress ‘as a lady’; he authorised her to procure the services of a competent dressmaker, and, within the bounds of moderation, to expend freely. And the result was on the whole satisfactory. A girl of good figure, pretty face, and moderate wit, who has spent some years in a City showroom, does not need much instruction in the art of wearing fashionable attire becomingly. Alice wore this evening a gown which would not have been out of place at five o’clock in a West-end drawing-room; the sleeves were rather short, sufficiently so to exhibit a very shapely lower arm. She had discovered new ways of doing her hair; at present it was braided on either side of the forehead—a style which gave almost a thoughtful air to her face. When her brother entered she was eating a piece of sponge-cake, which she held to her lips with peculiar delicacy, as if rehearsing graces.

      ‘Why, there now!’ cried Mrs. Mutimer, pleased to see her son. ‘If I wasn’t saying not five minutes ago as Dick was likely to come some day in the week! Wasn’t I, Alice? What’ll you have for your tea? There’s some chops all ready in the ‘ouse, if you’d care for them.’

      Richard was not in a cheerful mood. He made no reply immediately, but went and stood before the fireplace, as he had been accustomed to do in the old kitchen.

      ‘Will you have a chop?’ repeated his mother.

      ‘No; I won’t eat just yet. But you can give me a cup of tea.’

      Mrs. Mutimer and Alice exchanged a glance, as the former bent over the teapot. Richard was regarding his brother askance, and it resulted in a question, rather sharply put—

      ‘Have you been to work to-day?’

      ‘Arry would have lied had he dared; as it was, he made his plate revolve, and murmured, ‘No; he ‘adn’t.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘I didn’t feel well,’ replied the youth, struggling for self-confidence and doing his best to put on an air of patient suffering.

      Richard tapped his tea-cup and looked the look of one who reserves discussion for a more seasonable time.

      ‘Daniel called last night,’ remarked Mrs. Mutimer. ‘He says he wants to see you. I think it’s something particular; he seemed disappointed you weren’t at the meeting on Sunday.’

      ‘Did he? I’ll see if I can get round to-night. If you like to have something cooked for me about eight o’clock, mother,’ he added, consulting his watch, ‘I shall be ready for it then.’

      He turned to his brother again.

      ‘Is there a class to-night? No? Very well, when they’ve cleared away, get your books out and show me what you’ve been doing. What are you going to do with yourself, Alice?’

      The two addressed, as well as their mother, appeared to have some special cause for embarrassment. Instead of immediately replying, Alice played with crumbs and stole glances on either side.

      ‘Me and ‘Arry are going out,’ she said at length, with a rather timid smile and a poise of the head in pretty wilfulness.

      ‘Not ‘Arry,’ Richard observed significantly.

      ‘Why not?’ came from the younger Mutimer, with access of boldness.

      ‘If you’re not well enough to go to work you certainly don’t go out at night for your pleasure.’

      ‘But it’s a particular occasion,’ explained Mice, leaning back with crossed arms, evidently prepared to do battle. ‘A friend of ‘Arry’s is going to call and take us to the theatre.’

      ‘Oh, indeed! And what friend is that?’

      Mrs. Mutimer, who had been talked over to compliance with a project she felt Richard would not approve—she had no longer the old authority, and spent her days in trying to piece on the present life to the former—found refuge in a habit more suitable to the kitchen than the dining-room; she had collected all the teaspoons within reach and was pouring hot-water upon them in the slop-basin, the familiar preliminary to washing up.

      ‘A gen’leman as lives near here,’ responded ‘Arry. ‘He writes for the newspapers. His name’s Keene.’

      ‘Oh? And how came you to know him?’

      ‘Met him,’ was the airy reply.

      ‘And you’ve brought him here?’

      ‘Well, he’s been here once.’

      ‘He said as he wanted to know you, Dick,’ put in Mrs. Mutimer. ‘He was really a civil-spoken man, and he gave ‘Arry a lot of help with his books.’

      ‘When was he here?’

      ‘Last Friday.’

      ‘And to-night he wants to take you to the theatre?’

      The question was addressed to Alice.

      ‘It won’t cost him anything,’ she replied. ‘He says he can always get free passes.’

      ‘No doubt. Is he coming here to fetch you? I shall be glad to see him.’

      Richard’s tone was ambiguous. He put down his cup, and said to Alice—

      ‘Come and let me hear how you get on with your playing.’ Alice followed into the drawing-room. For the furnishing of the new house Richard had not trusted to his own instincts, but had taken counsel with a firm that he knew from advertisements. The result was commonplace, but not intolerable. His front room was regarded as the Princess’s peculiar domain; she alone dared to use it freely—declined, indeed, to sit elsewhere. Her mother only came a few feet within the door now and then; if obliged by Alice to sit down, she did so on the edge of a chair as near to the door as possible. Most of her time Mrs. Mutimer still spent in the kitchen. She had resolutely refused to keep more than one servant, and everything that servant did she all Alice’s objections she opposed an obstinate silence. What herself performed over again, even to the making of beds. To was the poor woman to do? She had never in her life read more than an occasional paragraph of police news, and could not be expected to take up literature at her age. Though she made no complaint, signs were not wanting that she had begun to suffer in health. She fretted through the nights, and was never really at peace save

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