essenger-boy. No, mother, I'm too old
to be a boy scout, or anything of that sort. What have you got Warden
for? Why don't you send the footman? But far the most sensible way is to
ring up the place itself, and give the order."

"No, dear," said Lady Kellynch, rather crushed. She had pictured his
entrance with some beautiful flowers to please his sister-in-law. "Never
mind; it doesn't matter."

"Mind you," said the spoilt boy, standing up, and looking at himself in
the glass. "Mind you I should be awfully glad to give Bertha anything
she likes. I don't mind. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll call in at
that place in Bond Street, and get her some chocolates."

"Charbonnel and Walker's, I suppose you mean," said his mother.

He smiled.

"They'll do. Pickering says his brother, who's an artist, is going to do
a historical picture for next year's Academy on the subject of 'The
First Meeting between Charbonnel and Walker.'"

She looked bewildered.

"Just as you like, my dear. Take her some bonbons if you prefer it.
Wait! One moment, Clifford. Bertha hates sweets. She never touches
them."

"It doesn't matter," he answered. "I do."

CHAPTER XI

A DISCOVERY

"Come in, old boy!"

Bertha was lying on the sofa reading a large book. She didn't put down
either her little feet or the book when her young brother-in-law came
in.

He also had a book in his pocket, which he took out. Then he produced a
box in silver paper.

"For you," he remarked, and then immediately cut the blue ribbon with a
penknife and proceeded to begin the demolition of the chocolates.

"A present for me?" said Bertha.

"Yes," he said, taking a second one rather quickly and glancing at the
second row.

"I'm so glad you've got me the kind you like. I hope you've got those
with the burnt almonds that you're so particularly fond of?"

"Oh yes, rather!"

"Thanks. That was nice and thoughtful of you; I know they're your
favourite sort."

"Yes, they are."

"And what I always think is so nice about you, Clifford," Bertha went
on, "is that you're so truly thoughtful. I mean, you never forget your
own tastes. You really take trouble to get yourself any little thing you
like. You put yourself out."

"Oh--I----"

"Oh no, I'm not flattering you; I really mean it. You're such a nice
thoughtful boy. I've seen you take a lot of trouble, rather than deprive
yourself of anything you cared for."

"Oh, Bertha!"

"Are you going to stay long