d, looking at her again.

"We can go into that later," said James, leading off the plumber.

"Good morning, Miss Houghton," said Arthur Witham.

"Good morning, Mr. Witham," replied Alvina brightly.

But she lingered in the background, and as Arthur Witham was going
she heard him say: "Well, I'll work it out, Mr. Houghton. I'll work
it out, and let you know tonight. I'll get the figures by tonight."

The younger man's tone was a little off-hand, just a little
supercilious with her father, she thought. James's star was setting.

In the afternoon, directly after dinner, Alvina went out. She
entered the shop, where sheets of lead and tins of paint and putty
stood about, varied by sheets of glass and fancy paper. Lottie
Witham, Arthur's wife, appeared. She was a woman of thirty-five, a
bit of a shrew, with social ambitions and no children.

"Is Mr. Witham in?" said Alvina.

Mrs. Witham eyed her.

"I'll see," she answered, and she left the shop.

Presently Arthur entered, in his shirt-sleeves: rather
attractive-looking.

"I don't know what you'll think of me, and what I've come for," said
Alvina, with hurried amiability. Arthur lifted his blue eyes to her,
and Mrs. Witham appeared in the background, in the inner doorway.

"Why, what is it?" said Arthur stolidly.

"Make it as dear as you can, for father," said Alvina, laughing
nervously.

Arthur's blue eyes rested on her face. Mrs. Witham advanced into the
shop.

"Why? What's that for?" asked Lottie Witham shrewdly.

Alvina turned to the woman.

"Don't say anything," she said. "But we don't want father to go on
with this scheme. It's bound to fail. And Miss Pinnegar and I can't
have anything to do with it anyway. I shall go away."

"It's bound to fail," said Arthur Witham stolidly.

"And father has no money, I'm sure," said Alvina.

Lottie Witham eyed the thin, nervous face of Alvina. For some
reason, she liked her. And of course, Alvina was considered a lady
in Woodhouse. That was what it had come to, with James's declining
fortunes: she was merely _considered_ a lady. The consideration was
no longer indisputable.

"Shall you come in a minute?" said Lottie Witham, lifting the flap
of the counter. It was a rare and bold stroke on Mrs. Witham's part.
Alvina's immediate instinct was to refuse. But she liked Arthur
Witham, in his shirt sleeves.

"Well--I must be back in a minute," she said, as she entered the
embrasure of the counter. She felt as if s