to remember the names of authors. 

 "Clarence is standing up to her," remarked Gertie. 

 "She gets so little contradiction," said Miss Loriner, "that it will have all the charm of novelty. I daren't do it, of course." 

 "You're thinking of your bread and butter." 

 "That's about all I should have to eat if I lost this berth." 

 "Wouldn't care for the job myself." 

 "I can't do anything else," explained Miss Loriner.  "Did you say your cousin was a journalist? I wish I could do something like that. I want to write a novel, badly." 

 "That's probably how you would write it. Why, even Clarence is finding some trouble over the job. And he's got a brain." 

 "I suppose that is an advantage," admitted the other serenely.  "How long have you known Mr. Douglass?" 

 "Her husband must get precious tired of the sound of her voice." 

 "He does. He goes away a good deal. The war in South Africa was a Godsend to him. Just now he is out somewhere—I forget where. How long have you—" 

 "Any youngsters?" 

 "There are no children." 

 Gertie glanced back at Lady Douglass in a more friendly way. Clarence had been dropped owing, apparently, to want of sympathy, and Trew was selected as one more likely to agree with arguments. 

 "Mr. Douglass's mother is in town," mentioned Miss Loriner, "but she is resting this afternoon." 

 "I wasn't aware he had a mother." 

 "Oh!"  With illumination.  "Then you haven't known him long. They are very fond of each other. She is a dear soul. When matters go wrong down at Ewelme, it is old Mrs. Douglass who puts everything right." 

 They were separated by a child who had been startled by a look from an amiable dromedary. Henry came forward. 

 "I am going to ask my sister-in-law," he said deliberately, "to invite you down to Morden Place. Thank her, won't you?" 

 "I'll thank her," replied 

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