ime when William arrived at the boarding-house. Mr.
Percival Jones had moved his place so as to be nearer Ethel. He was
now convinced that she was possessed of every virtue his future
"spouse" could need. He conversed brightly and incessantly during the
meal. Mr. Brown grew restive.

"The man will drive me mad," he said afterwards. "Bleating away!
What's he bleating about anyway? Can't you stop him bleating, Ethel?
You seem to have influence. Bleat! Bleat! Bleat! Good Lord! And me
here for a _rest_ cure!"

At this point he was summoned to the telephone and returned
distraught.

"It's an unknown female," he said. "She says that a boy of the name of
William from this boarding-house has made her little girl sick by
forcing her to eat seaweed. She says it's brutal. Does anyone _know_
I'm here for a rest cure? Where is the boy? Good heavens! Where is the
boy?"

But William, like Peggy, had retired from the world for a space. He
returned later on in the afternoon, looking pale and chastened. He
bore the reproaches of his family in stately silence.

Mr. Percival Jones was in great evidence in the drawing-room.

"And soon--er--soon the--er--Spring will be with us once more," he was
saying in his high-pitched voice as he leant back in his chair and
joined the tips of his fingers together. "The Spring--ah--the Spring!
I have a--er--little effort I--er--composed on--er--the Coming of
Spring--I--er--will read to you some time if you will--ah--be kind
enough to--er--criticise--ah--impartially."

"_Criticise_!" they chorused. "It will be above criticism. Oh, do read
it to us, Mr. Jones."

"I will--er--this evening." His eyes wandered to the door, hoping and
longing for his beloved's entrance. But Ethel was with her father at a
matinee at the Winter Gardens and he looked and longed in vain. In
spite of this, however, the springs of his eloquence did not run dry,
and he held forth ceaselessly to his little circle of admirers.

"The simple--ah--pleasures of nature. How few of us--alas!--have
the--er--gift of appreciating them rightly. This--er--little seaside
hamlet with its--er--sea, its--er--promenade, its--er--Winter Gardens!
How beautiful it is! How few appreciate it rightly."

Here William entered and Mr. Percival Jones broke off abruptly. He
disliked William.

"Ah! here comes our little friend. He looks pale. Remorse, my young
friend? Ah, beware of untruthfulness. Beware of the beginnings of a
life of lies and decep