s. He was busy. He had a great deal to see
to, so he said when Digby called him a slacker. In a sense it was true,
for things at Heeler's were not going particularly well, and there had
lately been a good deal of unrest amongst his workpeople.

Forrester kept all his worries to himself, and by doing so doubled his
burden. There is nothing so hard to carry as a trouble unshared, but
there was nobody in whom he could confide.

He had aged years since his marriage, and his hair was plentifully
sprinkled with grey.

Peg alone noticed the change in him. There was very little that escaped
her sharp eyes.

One day she walked boldly into his study and tackled him in her usual
direct way.

"Mr. Forrester, why aren't you coming with us to-day?"

Peter Digby could drive Forrester's car, and had arranged to take the
two girls for a long run into the country, and the Beggar Man had
excused himself on the score of "work."

He was poring over a pile of papers when Peg opened the door and walked
in.

"Why aren't you coming with us to-day?" she demanded.

She stood on the opposite side of his writing table, looking at his
tired face with a wonderful softening in her eyes.

She was dressed for the drive, and looked rather like a handsome bird of
Paradise in her bright green veil and red motor coat.

She still wore the swinging gipsy earrings, but lately they had somehow
ceased to annoy Forrester; or perhaps he was beginning to realize that,
after all, trifles count very little in the sum total of things.

He looked up at her with a pucker between his eyes.

"I told you--I'm too busy to come," he answered.

"I know that's what you said, but it's only an excuse, isn't it?" she
asked bluntly.

Forrester smiled. "I don't think it's worth arguing about, anyway," he
said.

"Don't you? Well, I do," said Peg. She went back and shut the door,
which was on the jar only, and came again to stand beside him.

"There's none so blind as those who won't see," she said with seeming
irrelevance.

Forrester laid down his pen and half turned in his chair.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Peg coloured a little, but her eyes met his steadily.

"I mean that you ought to look after your wife yourself," she said.
There was no mistaking her meaning, and Forrester made no attempt to do
so.

There was a little silence; then he laughed shortly.

"And supposing my wife refuses to allow me to look after her?" he asked.

Peg shrug