ave carried the
day if the weather had not been so abominable. His father gave him a car
for a wedding present, which for the present is being stored at Howards
End."

"I suppose you have a garage there?"

"Yes. My husband built a little one only last month, to the west of the
house, not far from the wych-elm, in what used to be the paddock for the
pony."

The last words had an indescribable ring about them.

"Where's the pony gone?" asked Margaret after a pause.

"The pony? Oh, dead, ever so long ago."

"The wych-elm I remember. Helen spoke of it as a very splendid tree."

"It is the finest wych-elm in Hertfordshire. Did your sister tell you
about the teeth?"

"No."

"Oh, it might interest you. There are pigs' teeth stuck into the trunk,
about four feet from the ground. The country people put them in long
ago, and they think that if they chew a piece of the bark, it will cure
the toothache. The teeth are almost grown over now, and no one comes to
the tree."

"I should. I love folklore and all festering superstitions."

"Do you think that the tree really did cure toothache, if one believed
in it?"

"Of course it did. It would cure anything--once."

"Certainly I remember cases--you see I lived at Howards End long, long
before Mr. Wilcox knew it. I was born there."

The conversation again shifted. At the time it seemed little more than
aimless chatter. She was interested when her hostess explained that
Howards End was her own property. She was bored when too minute an
account was given of the Fussell family, of the anxieties of Charles
concerning Naples, of the movements of Mr. Wilcox and Evie, who were
motoring in Yorkshire. Margaret could not bear being bored. She grew
inattentive, played with the photograph frame, dropped it, smashed
Dolly's glass, apologised, was pardoned, cut her finger thereon,
was pitied, and finally said she must be going--there was all the
housekeeping to do, and she had to interview Tibby's riding-master.

Then the curious note was struck again.

"Good-bye, Miss Schlegel, good-bye. Thank you for coming. You have
cheered me up."

"I'm so glad!"

"I--I wonder whether you ever think about yourself?"

"I think of nothing else," said Margaret, blushing, but letting her hand
remain in that of the invalid.

"I wonder. I wondered at Heidelberg."

"I'M sure!"

"I almost think--"

"Yes?" asked Margaret, for there was a long pause--a pause that was
somehow akin to the flick