zen
papers into a black tin box, locked that too, and went towards his
coat and hat, all in silence.

As he went out he turned on the threshold.

"When's that man coming back from Ireland?" he said.

"Who? Vincent? Oh! another month yet. We're going to have another try
when he comes."

"Try? What at?"

"Materialization," said Laurie. "That's to say--"

"I don't want to know what the foul thing means."

He still paused, looking hard at the boy. Then he sniffed.

"A young fool," he said. "I repeat it.... Lock up when you come....
Good night."

_Chapter X_

I

Mrs. Baxter possessed one of the two secrets of serenity. The other
need not be specified; but hers arose from the most pleasant and most
human form of narrow-mindedness. As has been said before, when things
did not fit with her own scheme, either they were not things, but only
fancies of somebody inconsiderable, or else she resolutely disregarded
them. She had an opportunity of testing her serenity on one day early
in February.

She rose as usual at a fixed hour--eight o'clock--and when she was
ready knelt down at her _prie-Dieu_. This was quite an elaborate
structure, far more elaborate than the devotions offered there. It was
a very beautiful inlaid Florentine affair, and had a little shelf
above it filled with a number of the little leather-bound books in
which her soul delighted. She did not use these books very much; but
she liked to see them there. It would not be decent to enter the
sanctuary of Mrs. Baxter's prayers; it is enough to say that they were
not very long. Then she rose from her knees, left her large
comfortable bedroom, redolent with soap and hot water, and came
downstairs, a beautiful slender little figure in black lace veil and
rich dress, through the sunlight of the staircase, into the
dining-room.

There she took up her letters and packets. They were not exciting.
There was an unimportant note from a friend, a couple of bills, and a
_Bon Marche_ catalogue; and she scrutinized these through her
spectacles, sitting by the fire. When she had done she noticed a
letter lying by Maggie's place, directed in a masculine hand. An
instant later Maggie came in herself, in her hat and furs, a charming
picture, fresh from the winter sunlight and air, and kissed her.

While Mrs. Baxter poured out tea she addressed a remark or two to the
girl, but only got back those vague inattentive murmurs that are the
sign of a distracted min