red of bashfulness still hung about him, but he was
growing up fast--expanding like a flower beneath the sun. "May I
explain?" he asked courageously.

"But certainly!"

So Henry kissed her.

"For that excuse," he whispered with a new-found eloquence, "I'd do more
than you ask."

She laughed and imprinted a feather upon his cheek.

"So you have a soul after all!" she said happily. "I congratulate you
and ... myself."

The last word was inaudible; indeed it was not meant for the new
henchman of Romance.

CHAPTER VII

MR. HEDDERWICK'S FIRST ADVENTURE

"Alicia, my dear," said Robert Hedderwick to his wife, as he was smoking
after dinner, "shall we talk about our annual holiday?"

His wife, a determined lady of forty-five--six years younger than
he,--put down her knitting.

"By all means, Robert, if you wish. But I do not know what there is to
discuss. It is not yet July and we never go away till August, so there
is plenty of time."

"But why should we not go away in July this year?" he suggested,
somewhat diffidently.

"Why should we?"

"Well ... it would be a change...."

"A most undesirable and unnecessary change," said his wife decisively,
picking up her knitting again. "August is the hottest month, and August
in London would be unbearable. Besides, change for the mere sake of
change is childish. You might as well suggest our going somewhere else
than Cromer."

"Well ... er ..." said Mr. Hedderwick nervously, "why shouldn't we?
Cromer is a charming place--charming; but we have been there twelve
years running. Don't you think----"

"Cromer suits my health. And yours," Alicia added after a moment's
thought. "And mother would be disappointed if we didn't go. You don't
seem to have thought of that."

Her husband opened his mouth to say "I have, my dear," but changed the
words to "Oh ... ah ... yes ... of course." Then he got up, walked to
the window in rather an aimless fashion, and stared out. Presently he
began to whistle.

"Please do not whistle, Robert," said Alicia reprovingly. "You know I
can not endure it."

"I beg your pardon," said Robert submissively. "I forgot."

"You want something to do," observed his wife, as one who gives an
order. "You've done nothing but smoke since dinner. Why don't you go and
dig in the garden?"

"I--I don't feel like gardening."

"Or read. Where is your book that----"

"I--I don't feel like reading."

"The truth is, you don't know what you _do_