to a young woman having a brother well-to-do in the
world. And very fond of her he always seemed to be, as I was remarking
to Lydia."

Percival felt as if his blood were on fire. He dared not profess too
intimate a knowledge of Judith's feelings and position, and he could not
listen in silence. "I think you are mistaken, Mrs. Bryant," he said, in
a tone which would have betrayed his angry disgust to any more sensitive
ear. Even his landlady perceived that the subject was not a welcome one.

"Well, well!" she said. "It doesn't matter, and I'll only wish you as
good luck as Mr. Lisle; for I'm sure you deserve a young lady with a
little bit of money as well as he did; and no reason why you shouldn't
look to find one, one of these fine days."

"No, Mrs. Bryant, I sha'n't copy Mr. Lisle."

"Ah, you've something else in your eye, I can see, and perhaps one might
make a guess as to a name. Well, people must manage those things their
own way, and interfering mostly does harm, I take it. And I'll wish you
luck, anyhow."

"I don't think there's any occasion for your good wishes," said
Percival. "Thank you all the same."

"Not but what I'm sorry to lose Mr. and Miss Lisle," Mrs. Bryant
continued, as if that were the natural end of her previous sentence,
"for they paid for everything most regular."

"I hope these people who want to come may do the same," said Percival.
Though he knew that he ran the risk of hearing all that Mrs. Bryant
could tell him about their condition and prospects, he felt he could
endure anything that would turn the conversation from the Lisles and
himself.

But there was a different train of ideas in Mrs. Bryant's mind. "And, by
the way," she said, "I think we've some little accounts to settle
together, Mr. Thorne." Then Percival perceived, for the first time, that
she held a folded bit of paper in her hand. The moment that he feared
had come. He rose without a word, went to his desk and unlocked it.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Mrs. Bryant had approached the
table, had opened the paper and was flattening it out with her hand. He
stooped over his hoard--a meagre little hoard this time--counting what
he had to give her.

Mrs. Bryant began to hunt in her purse for a receipt stamp. "It's a
pleasure to have to do with a gentleman who is always so regular," she
said with an approving smile.

Percival, who was steadying a little pile of coin on the sloping desk,
felt a strong desire to tel