e embarrassed by the
suggestion that she should address him as "Arthur." Lettice was all
smiles and radiance, much delighted with a necklace of turquoise and
diamonds which her lover had brought as his wedding present, and which
she exhibited proudly to every member of the household.

Father, brothers and sisters were alike so relieved to see her happiness
that they were prepared to welcome Arthur Newcome with open arms, and to
acknowledge that their prejudices were unfounded. They listened with
smiling faces to his tedious description of his journey north, of
previous journeys, or journeys still to come; they tried to show an
interest in the items of stale information which he offered in words of
studied length and elegance, and with the air of imparting a startling
novelty; but alas! it was all in vain. After three days' experience,
the unanimous verdict proclaimed that such a well-behaved and withal
tiresome and prosy young gentleman had never before worn frock coats, or
walked about country lanes in a tall hat and immaculate kid gloves.

"He must be different with Lettice. She could never endure it if he
bored her as much as he does us," reiterated Hilary firmly, upon which
Raymond's eyes twinkled with mischievous intentions.

"Well--do you know, I should like to feel certain about that!" he said,
and forthwith strolled out into the garden through the open doorway.

Lettice and Arthur Newcome were pacing their favourite walk, the narrow
shrubbery path which encircled the lawn, and at intervals of every three
or four minutes the two figures came into sight as the path opened to
drive and tennis ground. Master Raymond strolled across to the first of
these openings, leant nonchalantly against a tree, and waited the
approach of footsteps. They came--a strong, steady crunching of the
gravel, a pattering of quick, uneven little steps, and the sound of a
deep bass voice struck on the ear.

"...And further on, in the transept aisle, I came upon a particularly
heavy and unattractive cenotaph to the memory of--"

Raymond gasped, and rolled his eyes; then, as the footsteps died away,
he sped lightly across the lawn, and ensconced himself at the next point
of vantage. The boom of Mr Newcome's big voice came again to his ear.
Poor little Lettice was evidently a good listener!

"...The epitaph is in the inflated style of the period--bombastic in
character, and supposed to be written by--"

"Bombastic!" echoed Raymo