"It would be a hint," said his friend.

Mr. Clarkson took some letters from the mantelpiece and held them up.
"She writes about them every day," he said, briefly, "and I have to
answer them."

"She--she don't refer to your getting married, I suppose?" said his
friend, anxiously.

Mr. Clarkson said "No. But her sister does," he added. "I've had two
letters from her."

Mr. Smithson got up and paced restlessly up and down the room. "That's
women all over," he said, bitterly. "They never ask for things straight
out; but they always get 'em in roundabout ways. She can't do it
herself, so she gets her sister to do it."

Mr. Clarkson groaned. "And her sister is hinting that she can't leave
the house where she spent so many happy years," he said, "and says what a
pleasant surprise it would be for Mrs. Phipps if she was to come home and
find it done up."

"That means you've got to live there when you're married," said his
friend, solemnly.

Mr. Clarkson glanced round his comfortable room and groaned again. "She
asked me to get an estimate from Digson," he said, dully. "She knows as
well as I do her sister hasn't got any money. I wrote to say that it had
better be left till she comes home, as I might not know what was wanted."