ever values
happiness that is always with him. I shall tell her that, for the sake
of learning to appreciate my own advantages as I know they should be
appreciated, I intend to tear myself away from her and the children for
at least three weeks. I shall tell her," I continued, turning to Harris,
"that it is you who have shown me my duty in this respect; that it is to
you we shall owe--"

Harris put down his glass rather hurriedly.

"If you don't mind, old man," he interrupted, "I'd really rather you
didn't. She'll talk it over with my wife, and--well, I should not be
happy, taking credit that I do not deserve."

"But you do deserve it," I insisted; "it was your suggestion."

"It was you gave me the idea," interrupted Harris again. "You know you
said it was a mistake for a man to get into a groove, and that unbroken
domesticity cloyed the brain."

"I was speaking generally," I explained.

"It struck me as very apt," said Harris. "I thought of repeating it to
Clara; she has a great opinion of your sense, I know. I am sure that
if--"

"We won't risk it," I interrupted, in my turn; "it is a delicate matter,
and I see a way out of it. We will say George suggested the idea."

There is a lack of genial helpfulness about George that it sometimes
vexes me to notice. You would have thought he would have welcomed the
chance of assisting two old friends out of a dilemma; instead, he became
disagreeable.

"You do," said George, "and I shall tell them both that my original plan
was that we should make a party--children and all; that I should bring my
aunt, and that we should hire a charming old chateau I know of in
Normandy, on the coast, where the climate is peculiarly adapted to
delicate children, and the milk such as you do not get in England. I
shall add that you over-rode that suggestion, arguing we should be
happier by ourselves."

With a man like George kindness is of no use; you have to be firm.

"You do," said Harris, "and I, for one, will close with the offer. We
will just take that chateau. You will bring your aunt--I will see to
that,--and we will have a month of it. The children are all fond of you;
J. and I will be nowhere. You've promised to teach Edgar fishing; and it
is you who will have to play wild beasts. Since last Sunday Dick and
Muriel have talked of nothing else but your hippopotamus. We will picnic
in the woods--there will only be eleven of us,--and in the evenings we
will have mu