read without the aid of a microscope."

"Oh, Brice! If you make him talk that way to her, it will be perfectly
killing."

"I dare say the audience will find it so."

They were so late at breakfast, and sat there so long talking, for
Maxwell said he did not feel like going to work quite so promptly as
usual, that it was quite ten o'clock when they came out of the
dining-room, and then they stayed awhile gossiping with people on the
piazza of the hotel before they went back to their cottage. When they
came round the corner in sight of it they saw the figure of a man pacing
back and forth on the veranda, with his head dropped forward, and
swinging a stick thoughtfully behind him. Louise pulled Maxwell
convulsively to a halt, for the man was Godolphin.

"What do you suppose it means?" she gasped.

"I suppose he will tell us," said Maxwell, dryly. "Don't stop and stare
at him. He has got eyes all over him, and he's clothed with
self-consciousness as with a garment, and I don't choose to let him
think that his being here is the least important or surprising."

"No, of course not. That would be ridiculous," and she would have liked
to pause for a moment's worship of her husband's sense, which appeared
to her almost as great as his genius. But it seemed to her an
inordinately long time before they reached the cottage-gate, and
Godolphin came half-way down the walk to meet them.

He bowed seriously to her, and then said, with dignity, to her husband,
"Mr. Maxwell, I feel that I owe you an apology--or an explanation,
rather--for the abrupt note I sent you yesterday. I wish to assure you
that I had no feeling in the matter, and that I am quite sincere in my
offer of my services."

"Why, you're very good, Mr. Godolphin," said Maxwell. "I knew that I
could fully rely on your kind offer. Won't you come in?" He offered the
actor his hand, and they moved together towards the cottage; Louise had
at once gone before, but not so far as to be out of hearing.

"Why, thank you, I _will_ sit down a moment. I found the walk over
rather fatiguing. It's going to be a hot day." He passed his
handkerchief across his forehead, and insisted upon placing a chair for
Mrs. Maxwell before he could be made to sit down, though she said that
she was going indoors, and would not sit. "You understand, of course,
Mr. Maxwell, that I should still like to have your play, if it could be
made what I want?"

Maxwell would not meet his wife's eye in ans