with
a story about him that he wouldn't like."

"Ethel! You darling!"

"Oh, yes, and I said I was sure you would all listen, even though I was
not an author myself. And I have it ready, you know, and it's awfully
like Richard, only a different side of him from the burglar one."

"But, my dear, what did he do when you--"

This enquiry was, however, cut short by the entrance of the men. And
from the glance that came from Richard's eyes as they immediately sought
out his wife, Mrs. Davenport knew that he could not have done anything
very severe to Ethel when she made that threat to him during their
drive.

Richard at once made his way to the easy-chair arranged each night in
a good position for the narrator of the evening, and baptised "The
Singstool" by Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves was an ardent Wagnerian, and
especially devoted to The Mastersingers of Nuremberg.

"Shall we have," he whispered to Mr. Hillard, "a Beckmesser fiasco
to-night, or will it be a Walter success?"

But Mr. Hillard, besides being an author and a critic, cared little for
the too literary cleverness of Mr. Graves. He therefore heavily crushed
that gentleman's allusion to Wagner's opera. "I remember," he said, "the
singing contest between Beckmesser and Walter, and I doubt if we are to
be afflicted with anything so dull in this house."

Richard had settled himself in the easy-chair, and was looking
thoughtfully at various objects in the room, while the small-talk was
subsiding around him.

"Why, Mr. Field," said Mrs. Davenport, "you look as if you could find
nothing to suggest your story to you."

"On the contrary," said Richard, "it is the number of things that
suggest it. This newspaper here, that has arrived since I was last in
the room, has a column which reminds me very forcibly of the experience
that I have selected to tell you. But I think the most appropriate of
all is that picture." He pointed to the largest picture on the wall.
"'Breaking Home Ties' is its title, I remember very well. It is a
replica of the original that drew such crowds in the Art Building at the
World's Fair."

While Richard was saying this, his wife had possessed herself of the
newspaper, and he now observed how eagerly she was scanning its pages.
"It is the financial column, Ethel, that recalls my story."

Ethel, after a hopeless glance at this, resumed her seat near the sofa
by Mrs. Davenport.

"There were many paintings," continued Richard, "in that Art Bui