should have seen you before," said Mrs. Prentice, "but
I told Louisa that no doubt you were busy, and wanted to surprise her.
I like the carpet; don't you, Louisa?"

Miss Prentice said she did.

"The room is nice and airy," said Mrs. Prentice, "but it's a pity you
didn't come to me before deciding. I could have told you of a better
house for the same money."

"I'm very well satisfied with this," said Mr. Barrett. "It's all I
want."

"It's well enough," conceded Mrs. Prentice, amiably. "And how have you
been all these years?"

Mr. Barrett, with some haste, replied that his health and spirits had
been excellent.

"You look well," said Mrs. Prentice. "Neither of you seem to have
changed much," she added, looking from him to her daughter. "And I think
you did quite well not to write. I think it was much the best."

Mr. Barrett sought for a question: a natural, artless question, that
would neutralize the hideous suggestion conveyed by this remark, but it
eluded him. He sat and gazed in growing fear at Mrs. Prentice.

"I--I couldn't write," he said at last, in desperation; "my wife----"

"Your what?" exclaimed Mrs. Prentice, loudly.

"Wife," said Mr. Barrett, suddenly calm now that he had taken the plunge.
"She wouldn't have liked it."

Mrs. Prentice tried to control her voice. "I never heard you were
married!" she gasped. "Why isn't she here?"

"We couldn't agree," said the veracious Mr. Barrett. "She was very
difficult; so I left the children with her and----"

"Chil----" said Mrs. Prentice, and paused, unable to complete the word.

"Five," said Mr. Barrett, in tones of resignation. "It was rather a
wrench, parting with them, especially the baby. He got his first tooth
the day I left."

The information fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Prentice, for once in her life
thoroughly at a loss, sat trying to collect her scattered faculties. She
had come out prepared for a hard job, but not an impossible one. All
things considered, she took her defeat with admirable composure.

"I have no doubt it is much the best thing for the children to remain
with their mother," she said, rising.

"Much the best," agreed Mr. Barrett. "Whatever she is like," continued
the old lady. "Are you ready, Louisa?"

Mr. Barrett followed them to the door, and then, returning to the room,
watched, with glad eyes, their progress up the street.

"Wonder whether she'll keep it to herself?" he muttered.

His doubts were set at