heeses didn't
smell so bad to-day? Or you've had a rise? Quick! I must hear all
about it."

"You shall," Arnold replied. "It is a wonderful story. Listen. Have
you ever heard the fable of Dick Whittington?"

"Married his employer's daughter, of course. What's she like,
Arnold? Have you seen her? Did you save her life? When are you going
to see her again?"

Chetwode was already on his knees, dragging out an old trunk from
underneath the faded cupboard. Suddenly he paused with a gesture of
despair.

"Alas!" he exclaimed. "My dream fades away. Old Weatherley was
married only last year. Consequently, his daughter--"

"He can't have one," she interrupted, ruthlessly. "Tell me the news
at once?"

"I am going to dine with old Weatherley," he announced.

The girl smiled, a little wistfully.

"How funny! But you will get a good dinner, won't you, Arnold? Eat
ever so much, dear. Yesterday I fancied that you were getting thin.
I do wish I could see what you have in the middle of the day."

"Little mother!" he laughed. "To-day I gorged myself on poached
eggs. What did Isaac give you?"

"Mutton stew and heaps of it," the girl replied, quickly. "To-night
I shall have a bowl of milk as soon as you are gone. Have you
everything you ought to have to wear, Arnold?"

"Everything," he declared, rising to his feet with a sigh of relief.
"It's so long since I looked at my clothes that to tell you the
truth I was a little bit anxious. They may be old-fashioned, but
they came from a good man to start with."

"What made Mr. Weatherley ask you?" she demanded.

"Wanted one of his clerks to fill up and found that I played
bridge," Arnold answered. "It's rather a bore, isn't it? But, after
all, he is my employer."

"Of course you must go and behave your very nicest. Tell me, when
have you to start?"

"I ought to be changing in a quarter of an hour. What shall we do
till then?"

"Whatever you like," she murmured.

"I am coming to sit at the window with you," he said. "We'll look
down at the river and you shall tell me stories about the ships."

She laughed and took his hand as he dragged a chair over to her
side. He put his arm around her and her head fell naturally back
upon his shoulder. Her eyes sought his. He was leaning forward,
gazing down between the curving line of lamp-posts, across the belt
of black river with its flecks of yellow light. But Ruth watched him
only.

"Arnie," she whispered in his ear, "there are n