lous to so plump a person.
And Flossie had to be lifted down from the hassocks and punished with
hard kisses, and told not to do it again. And Flossie would do it
again. So that a great deal of time was lost in this way. And with the
touch of those soft little arms about his neck demoralization would
set in for the evening.

And then there was Flossie's education to be attended to; and that
took more time than anything. It meant that, as the November days drew
in, he had to read or talk to Flossie as she sat in his armchair with
her dear little feet on his fender, and her dear little hands mending
his socks and shirts and things. They might have been married for
years, only they weren't; that was what made it so exciting. Flossie's
hands were always mending or making something (generally something to
wear), and it was rather strange that it never occurred to such a
busy person that other people might be busy too. He tried to break it
to her. He told her (like a brute) that he thought all his things must
be mended now, and that perhaps for another week he would be better
without any tea. And Flossie (very naturally offended) didn't put her
dear little nose in at his door for two weeks. And for all you could
get through in that time it was hardly worth while offending her.

But he was very far wrong in supposing that Flossie never thought
about his work. She had been thinking a great deal about it lately.
One cold bright Sunday morning in November she tapped at his door and
walked in dressed for the open air. "Aren't you coming for a walk,"
she said, "this lovely day?"

"Too busy." To signify his annoyance, or to keep himself from
temptation, he bent closer over the article he was writing for _The
Museion_. She came and stood beside him, watching him as he worked,
still with his air of passionate preoccupation. Presently he found
himself drawn against his will into the following conversation.

"How long does it take you to do one of those things?"

"It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Oh, on the amount of trouble I take over it."

"And do they pay you any more for taking trouble?"

"No, Flossie. I'm sorry to say they frequently pay me less."

"Then why on earth do you do it?"

This question seemed to him so curious that it caused him to look up,
beholding for the first time the plump figure clothed entirely in a
new suit of brown, and wearing on its head a fascinating hat made of
something that resembled fur.