I can't join this winter," said Reggie's sister-in-law,
"but we must go to our cousins in Ireland; we've put them off so often.
What a shame! You'll have none of the same women this time."

"Excepting Mrs. Pentherby," said Reggie, demurely.

"Mrs. Pentherby! _Surely_, Reggie, you're not going to be so idiotic as
to have that woman again! She'll set all the women's backs up just as
she did this time. What _is_ this mysterious hold she's go over you?"

"She's invaluable," said Reggie; "she's my official quarreller."

"Your--what did you say?" gasped his sister-in-law.

"I introduced her into the house-party for the express purpose of
concentrating the feuds and quarrelling that would otherwise have broken
out in all directions among the womenkind. I didn't need the advice and
warning of sundry friends to foresee that we shouldn't get through six
months of close companionship without a certain amount of pecking and
sparring, so I thought the best thing was to localise and sterilise it in
one process. Of course, I made it well worth the lady's while, and as
she didn't know any of you from Adam, and you don't even know her real
name, she didn't mind getting herself disliked in a useful cause."

"You mean to say she was in the know all the time?"

"Of course she was, and so were one or two of the men, so she was able to
have a good laugh with us behind the scenes when she'd done anything
particularly outrageous. And she really enjoyed herself. You see, she's
in the position of poor relation in a rather pugnacious family, and her
life has been largely spent in smoothing over other people's quarrels.
You can imagine the welcome relief of being able to go about saying and
doing perfectly exasperating things to a whole houseful of women--and all
in the cause of peace."

"I think you are the most odious person in the whole world," said
Reggie's sister-in-law. Which was not strictly true; more than anybody,
more than ever she disliked Mrs. Pentherby. It was impossible to
calculate how many quarrels that woman had done her out of.

MARK

Augustus Mellowkent was a novelist with a future; that is to say, a
limited but increasing number of people read his books, and there seemed
good reason to suppose that if he steadily continued to turn out novels
year by year a progressively increasing circle of readers would acquire
the Mellowkent habit, and demand his works from the libraries and
bookstalls. At the in