commercial pursuits." "No, father—of course not," responded the girl cheerfully. "And you have often assured me that you are glad—and proud—glad and proud to be able to assist my declining years. It is not much that I want: I saunter out in the sun in the morning, and go down to my—my club——" "The Arcadia Arms, father," she said gently. "I prefer to call it my club," he said, a little testily. "There I nod to an acquaintance or two—and I have my modest glass, and perhaps smoke a pipe, or even a mild cigar. In the afternoon,[25] a stroll and perhaps another modest glass; in the evening a few more people gather there, and we are almost convivial. That's my programme; that's my day. For the rest, as you're aware, I occupy the cheapest bed in the house—and I don't eat much. Therefore I do urge," he concluded fretfully, "that it is a shame that a man should be deprived of the little thing that gives him so much pleasure. I have been wounded to-night—sorely hurt and wounded, Bessie." [25] "The coffee will be here directly, father," said the girl. "Coffee—served in cracked cups by a dingy maid—in a back-yard," he cried viciously. "There's nothing soothing or helpful or restful about coffee—and I'm too old to pretend that this place is anything but the back-yard it really is." "It's better than any other garden in Arcadia Street," she said. "And at a time like this, when—when you don't see things so distinctly—it looks quite good. If you shut your eyes the least little bit, so that you can only just see out of them, you seem to be looking down long spaces—ever so far; and you can sit there under the wall, and think you're anywhere—anywhere in the world except in Arcadia Street." "I have shut my eyes to a great many things far too long, Bessie," he exclaimed fiercely. "I have been inclined to forget at times who I really am, and the position I should have occupied. I let my children do as they like with me. Where, for instance, is your brother to-night?" "Aubrey always goes out in the evening," said[26] the girl quickly. "He likes his freedom, you know, father dear." [26] "I know his freedom," said the man; "the freedom of every low billiard saloon in the neighbourhood. No intellect about him, mind you; no discussing of
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