Colonel, as was his habit, closed his eyes, dropped his
chin, and fell comfortably asleep. Mrs. Clibborn slowly turned to Mary.

"Will you try and find me my glasses, darling," she murmured. "They're
either in my work-basket or on the morning-room table. And if you can't
see them there, perhaps they're in your father's study. I want to read
Jamie a letter."

"I'll go and look, mother."

Mary went out, and Mrs. Clibborn put her hand on Jamie's arm.

"Do you dislike me very much, Jamie?" she murmured softly.

"On the contrary!"

"I'm afraid your mother doesn't care for me."

"I'm sure she does."

"Women have never liked me. I don't know why. I can't help it if I'm not
exactly--plain, I'm as God made me."

James thought that the Almighty in that case must have an unexpected
familiarity with the rouge-pot and the powder-puff.

"Do you know that I did all I could to prevent your engagement to Mary?"

"You!" cried James, thunderstruck. "I never knew that."

"I thought I had better tell you myself. You mustn't be angry with me.
It was for your own good. If I had had my way you would never have
become engaged. I thought you were so much too young."

"Five years ago, d'you mean--when it first happened?"

"You were only a boy--a very nice boy, Jamie. I always liked you. I
don't approve of long engagements, and I thought you'd change your mind.
Most young men are a little wild; it's right that they should be."

James looked at her, wondering suddenly whether she knew or divined
anything. It was impossible, she was too silly.

"You're very wise."

"Oh, don't say that!" cried Mrs. Clibborn, with a positive groan. "It
sounds so middle-aged.... I always thought Mary was too old for you. A
woman should be ten years younger than her husband."

"Tell me all about it," insisted James.

"They wouldn't listen to me. They said you had better be engaged. They
thought it would benefit your morals. I was very much against it. I
think boys are so much nicer when they haven't got encumbrances--or
morals."

At that moment Mary came in.

"I can't find your glasses, mamma."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," replied Mrs. Clibborn, smiling softly; "I've
just remembered that I sent them into Tunbridge Wells yesterday to be
mended."

VIII

James knew he would see Mary at the tea-party which Mrs. Jackson that
afternoon was giving at the Vicarage. Society in Little Primpton was
exclusive, with the result that the same people