away, said she, she was afraid she would have to ask
for a larger housekeeping allowance. The withdrawal of the money for
Johnny's board would make a difference to their income.

"Of course," returned Mahony easily, and was about to dismiss the
subject.

But Polly stood her ground. "Talking of money, Richard, I don't know
whether you remember ... you've been so busy ... that it's only about a
fortnight now till the second lot of interest falls due."

"What!--a fortnight?" exclaimed her husband, and reached out for an
almanack. "Good Lord, so it is! And nothing doing yet, Polly ...
absolutely nothing!"

"Well, dear, you can't expect to jump into a big practice all at once,
can you? But you see, I think the trouble is, not nearly enough people
know you've started." And a little imploringly, and very
apologetically, Polly unfolded her artless schemes for
self-advertisement.

"Wife, I've a grave suspicion!" said Mahony, and took her by the chin.
"While I've sat here with my head in the clouds, you've been worrying
over ways and means, and over having such an unpractical old dreamer
for a husband. Now, child, that won't do. I didn't marry to have my
girl puzzling her little brains where her next day's dinner was to come
from. Away with you, to your stitching! Things will be all right, trust
to me."

And Polly did trust him, and was so satisfied with what she had
effected that, raising her face for a kiss, she retired with an easy
mind to overhaul Johnny's little wardrobe.

But the door having clicked behind her, Mahony's air of forced
assurance died away. For an instant he hesitated beside the table, on
which a rampart of books lay open, then vigorously clapped each volume
to and moved to the window, chewing at the ends of his beard. A timely
interruption! What the dickens had he been about, to forget himself in
this fool's paradise, when the crassest of material anxieties--that of
pounds, shillings and pence--was crouched, wolf-like, at his door?

That night he wakened with a jerk from an uneasy sleep. Though at noon
the day before, the thermometer had registered over a hundred in the
shade, it was now bitterly cold, and these abrupt changes of
temperature always whipped up his nerves. Even after he had piled his
clothes and an opossum-rug on top of the blankets, he could not drop
off again. He lay staring at the moonlit square of the window, and
thinking the black thoughts of night.

What if he could not manage