iritually it is almost too good for earth, and any woman who lives in
the house with it has moments of despondency and self-chastisement,
in which she fears that heaven may prove all too small to contain the
perfect being and its unregenerate family as well.

Financially it has at least a moderate bank account; that is, it
is never penniless, indeed it can never afford to be, because it is
peremptory that it should possess funds in order to disburse them to
needier brothers. There is never an hour when Mr. William Beresford is
not signing notes and bonds and drafts for less fortunate men; giving
small loans just to 'help a fellow over a hard place'; educating
friends' children, starting them in business, or securing appointments
for them. The widow and the fatherless have worn such an obvious path to
his office and residence that no bereaved person could possibly lose
his way, and as a matter of fact no one of them ever does. This special
journey of his to America has been made necessary because, first, his
cousin's widow has been defrauded of a large sum by her man of business;
and second, his college chum and dearest friend has just died in Chicago
after appointing him executor of his estate and guardian of his only
child. The wording of the will is, 'as a sacred charge and with full
power.' Incidentally, as it were, one of his junior partners has been
ordered a long sea voyage, and another has to go somewhere for mud
baths. The junior partners were my idea, and were suggested solely that
their senior might be left more or less free from business care, but
it was impossible that Willie should have selected sound, robust
partners--his tastes do not incline him in the direction of selfish
ease; accordingly he chose two delightful, estimable, frail gentlemen
who needed comfortable incomes in conjunction with light duties.

I am railing at my husband for all this, but I love him for it just the
same, and it shows why the table is laid for three.

"Salemina," I said, extending my slipper toe to the glowing peat, which
by extraordinary effort had been brought up from the hotel kitchen, as a
bit of local colour, "it is ridiculous that we three women should be in
Ireland together; it's the sort of thing that happens in a book, and of
which we say that it could never occur in real life. Three persons do
not spend successive seasons in England, Scotland and Ireland unless
they are writing an Itinerary of the British Isles. The