nt
never struck anybody as singular; it did not strike even Helen as
singular. Her mother's house had exhibited the same oddness until she
reorganised it. If James Ollerenshaw had not needed an office, his
sitting-room would have languished in desuetude. The fact is that the
thrifty inhabitants of the Five Towns save a room as they save money. If
they have an income of six rooms they will live on five, or rather in
five, and thereby take pride to themselves.

Somewhat nervous, James feigned to glance at the rent books on the desk.

Helen's eye swept the room. "I suppose you have a good servant?" she
said.

"I have a woman as comes in," said James. "But her isn't in th' house at
the moment."

This latter statement was a wilful untruth on James's part. He had
distinctly caught a glimpse of Mrs. Butt's figure as he entered.

"Well," said Helen, kindly, "it's quite nice, I'm sure. You must be very
comfortable--for a man. But, of course, one can see at once that no
woman lives here."

"How?" he demanded, naively.

"Oh," she answered, "I don't know. But one can."

"Dost mean to say as it isn't clean, lass?"

"The _brasses_ are very clean," said Helen.

Such astonishing virtuosity in the art of innuendo is the privilege of
one sex only.

"Come into th' kitchen, lass," said James, after he had smiled into a
corner of the room, "and take off them gloves and things."

"But, great-stepuncle, I can't stay."

"You'll stop for tea," said he, firmly, "or my name isn't James
Ollerenshaw."

He preceded her into the kitchen. The door between the kitchen and the
scullery was half-closed; in the aperture he again had a momentary, but
distinct, glimpse of the eye of Mrs. Butt.

"I do like this room," said Helen, enthusiastically.

"Uninterrupted view o' th' back yard," said Ollerenshaw. "Sit ye down,
lass."

He indicated an article of furniture which stood in front of the range,
at a distance of perhaps six feet from it, cutting the room in half.
This contrivance may be called a sofa, or it may be called a couch; but
it can only be properly described by the Midland word for it--squab. No
other term is sufficiently expressive. Its seat--five feet by two--was
very broad and very low, and it had a steep, high back and sides. All
its angles were right angles. It was everywhere comfortably padded; it
yielded everywhere to firm pressure; and it was covered with a grey and
green striped stuff. You could not sit on that squab