vel, the _New Statesman_, and where once had been a
gun-rack a Della Robbia Madonna.

"It's delightful," I said; adding, as one always does: "How _did_ you
get to hear of it?"

"Hearing of it wasn't difficult," she said, "because we'd known about it
for years. The trouble was to get it."

"It wasn't empty, then?" I replied.

"No. There was a Mr. Broom here. We asked him if he wanted to go, and he
said No. We made him an offer, and he refused. He was most
unreasonable." (It was the same word that the unsettler had used.)

I agreed: "Most."

"So there was nothing for it but to will his departure."

"Will?"

"Yes. Concentrate our thoughts on his giving notice, and invite our
friends to do the same. I wrote scores of letters all round, impressing
this necessity, this absolute, sacred duty, on them. I asked them to
make a special effort on the night of March 18th, at eleven o'clock,
when we should all be free. It sounds rather dreadful, but I always hold
that the people who want a house most are best fitted to have it. One
can't be too nice in such matters."

"Well?" I asked.

"Well, you'll hardly believe it--and I shan't be a bit vexed if you
don't--but on the morning of the 20th of March I had a letter from Mr.
Broom saying that he had decided to leave, and we could have the first
call on his house. It was too wonderful. I don't mind confessing that I
felt a little ashamed. I felt it had been too easy."

"It is certainly a dangerous power," I said.

"Well," she continued, "I hurried round to see him before he could
change his mind. 'Do you really want to leave?' I asked him. 'Yes,' he
said. 'Why?' I asked. 'Well,' he said, 'I can't tell you why. I don't
know. All I know is that all of a sudden I have got tired and feel
vaguely that I want a change. I am quite sure I am making a mistake and
I'll never find so good a place; but there it is: I'm going.' I assure
you I felt for a moment inclined to back out altogether and advise him
to stay on. I was even half disposed to tell him the truth; but I pulled
myself together. And--well, here we are!"

"It's amazing," I said. "You must either have very strong-minded
friends, or the stars have played very oddly into your hands, or both."

"Yes," she said; "but there's a little difficulty. One has to be so
careful in this life."

"One has," I fervently agreed. "But what is it?"

"Some of my friends," she explained, "didn't quite play the game.
Instead of willing,