The Project Gutenberg EBook of Made to Measure, by W.W. Jacobs

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Title: Made to Measure
Deep Waters, Part 3.

Author: W.W. Jacobs

Release Date: March 6, 2004 [EBook #11473]

Language: English

Character set encoding: US-ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MADE TO MEASURE ***

Produced by David Widger

DEEP WATERS

By W.W. JACOBS

MADE TO MEASURE

Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride.
Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had
been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had
stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of
him. Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his
younger fellow-townsmen.

"You'll find it a bit dull after London, I expect," he remarked, as he
inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street.

"I'm tired of London," said Miss Garland. "I think this is a beautiful
little old town--so peaceful."

Mr. Mott looked gratified.

"I hope you'll stay a long time," he said, as he led the way into the
small front room. "I'm a lonely old man."

His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her.

"Thank you," she said, slowly. "I hope I shall. I feel better already.
There is so much to upset one in London."

"Noise?" queried Mr. Mott.

"And other things," said Miss Garland, with a slight shudder.

Mr. Mott sighed in sympathy with the unknown, and, judging by his niece's
expression, the unknowable. He rearranged the teacups, and, going to the
kitchen, returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea.

"Mrs. Pett leaves at three," he said, in explanation, "to look after her
children, but she comes back again at eight to look after my supper. And
how is your mother?"

Miss Garland told him.

"Last letter I had from her," said Mr. Mott, stealing a glance at the
girl's ring-finger, "I understood you were engaged."

His niece drew herself up.

"Certainly not," she said, with considerable vigour. "I have seen too
much of married life. I prefer my freedom. Besides, I don't like men."

Mr. Mott said modestly that he didn't wonder at it, and, fin