ing else to do, how glad he was to see
first-floor, and how the chat did him more good than all the doctor's
stuff!

And later on, when some ladies came to lunch with first-floor on the day
of the flower-show, did not ground-floor go out and place his
sitting-room completely at his fellow-lodger's disposal, so that the
company might find greater convenience and change of air after meat?
They were fearful joys, these feminine visits, when ladies who were kind
enough to ask a young man to spend a Sunday with them, still further
added to their kindness, by accepting with all possible effusion the
invitation which he one day ventured to give. It was a fearful joy, and
cost the host more anxious preparation than a state funeral brings to
Earl-marshal. As brave a face as might be must be put on everything; so
many details were to be thought out, so many little insufficiencies were
to be masked. But did not the result recompense all? Was not the young
man conscious that, though his rooms might be small, there was about
them a delicate touch which made up for much, that everything breathed
of refinement from the photographs and silver toddy-spoon upon the
mantelpiece to Rossetti's poems and "Marius the Epicurean," which
covered negligently a stain on the green tablecloth? And these kindly
ladies came in riant mood, well knowing all his little anxieties and
preparations, yet showing they knew none of them; resolved to praise his
rooms, his puny treasures, even his cookery and perilous wine, and
skilful to turn little contretemps into interesting novelties.
Householders, yours is a noble lot, ye are the men, and wisdom shall die
with you. Yet pity not too profoundly him that inhabiteth lodgings,
lest he turn and rend you, pitying you in turn that have bound on your
shoulders heavy burdens of which he knows nothing; saying to you that
seed time is more profitable than harvest, and the wandering years than
the practice of the master. Refrain from too much pity, and believe
that loneliness is not always lonely.

Westray was of a gregarious temperament, and missed his fellow-lodger.
The cranky little man, with all his soured outlook, must still have had
some power of evoking sympathy, some attractive element in his
composition. He concealed it under sharp words and moody bitterness,
but it must still have been there, for Westray felt his loss more than
he had thought possible. The organist and he had met twice and thrice a