bed, I says, and not a bath, and if you're in bed you should stay there
and keep warm, and not have all the clothes took off you to have your
legs washed. How can your legs _get_ dirty if you're tucked in with
clean sheets, in a clean room, in a clean house. When I haves a bath I
like it comfortable, once a week, at night in front of the kitchen
fire, and Em'ly-Alice safe in bed. No, my dear, I don't hold with
these new-fangled notions, and Nurse Jones, she worries me to death. I
'ad 'er once, and I said, never again--whiskin' in and whiskin' out,
and opening windows and washin' me all over, like I 'was a baby--most
uncomfortable I call it."

The clock on the mantelpiece struck five, Mary jumped up. "I must
fly," she exclaimed, "it's time for father's tea; I've been enjoying
myself so much I forgot all about the time."

"You see Miss Mary as far as the gates," Miss Gallup said to her
nephew. "Em'ly-Alice is in, I 'eard 'er pokin' the fire the wasteful
way she has."

Mary did not want Eloquent, for she greatly desired to run, but he
followed with such alacrity she had not the heart to forbid him. He
walked beside her, or, more truly, he trotted beside her, through the
village street, for Mary went at such a pace that Eloquent was almost
breathless. He found time, however, to tell her that he had paired at
the House on Friday, and took the week-end just to look after Miss
Gallup, who had seemed rather low-spirited since her illness. They did
the distance in record time, and outside the gates they found Mr
Ffolliot waiting.

"I've been to see Miss Gallup, father, she has been ill, and I looked
in to inquire. . . . I don't think you know Mr Gallup."

Mr Ffolliot bowed to Eloquent with a frigidity that plainly proved he
had no desire to know him.

"I regret," Mr Ffolliot said in an impersonal voice, "that Miss Gallup
has been ill. Do you know, Mary, that it is ten minutes past five?"

"Good evening, Miss Ffolliot," Eloquent said hastily; "it was most kind
of you to call, and it did my aunt a great deal of good. Good-evening,
Mr Ffolliot." He lifted his hat and turned away.

Mr Ffolliot stood perfectly still and looked his daughter over. From
the crown of her exceedingly old hat to her admirable boots he surveyed
her leisurely.

"Don't you want your tea, father?" Mary asked nervously, "or have you
had it?"

"I did want tea, at the proper hour, and I have not had it; but what I
want much more than te