creased in
fervour.

Mrs. Dearman grew more uneasy and a little unhappy.

Could she be losing her influence for Good over the poor weak boy? Could
it be--horrible thought--that he was falling into the hands of some
nasty woman who would flirt with him, let him smoke too many cigarettes,
drink cocktails, and sit up late? Was he going to relapse and slip back
into that state of wickedness of some kind, that she vaguely understood
him to have been guilty of in the unhappy past when he had possessed no
guardian angel to keep his life pure, happy and sweet, as he now
declared it to be?

"Where's your young friend got to lately?" inquired her husband one day.

"I don't know, John," she replied, "he's always missing appointments
nowadays," and there was a pathetic droop about the childish mouth.

"Haven't quarrelled with him, or anything, have you, Pat?"

"No, John dear. It would break his heart if I were unkind to him--or it
would have used to. I mean it used to have would. Oh, you know what I
mean. Once it would have. No, I have not been unkind to him--it's rather
the other way about, I think!"

_Rather the other way about_! The little affected pimp unkind to Mrs.
Dearman! Mr. (or Colonel) Dearman made no remark--aloud.

Augustus came to tea next day and his hostess made much of him. His host
eyed him queerly. Very.

Augustus felt uncomfortable. Good Heavens! Was Dearman jealous? The man
was not going to cut up jealous at this time of day, surely! Not after
giving him the run of the house for months, and allowing him to take his
wife everywhere--nay, encouraging him in every way. Absurd idea!

Beastly disturbing idea though--Dearman jealous, and on your track! A
rather direct and uncompromising person, red-haired too. But the man was
absolutely fair and just, and he'd never do such a thing as to let a
fellow be his wife's great pal, treat him as one of the family for ages,
and then suddenly round on him as though he were up to something. No.
Especially when he was, if anything, cooling off a bit.

"He was always most cordial--such a kind chap,--when I was living in his
wife's pocket almost," reflected Augustus, "and he wouldn't go and turn
jealous just when the thing was slacking off a bit."

But there was no doubt that Dearman was eyeing him queerly....

"Shall we go on the river to-morrow night, Gussie?" said Mrs. Dearman,
"or have a round of golf, or what?"

"Let's see how we feel to-morrow," replied Augus