gentleman wants to see her."

He threw himself into Mr. Mott's own particular easy chair, and, crossing
his knees, turned a deaf ear to the threats of that incensed gentleman.
Not until the latter had left the room did his features reveal the
timorousness of the soul within. Muffled voices sounded from upstairs,
and it was evident that an argument of considerable length was in
progress. It was also evident from the return of Mr. Mott alone that his
niece had had the best of it.

"I've done all I could," he said, "but she declines to see you. She says
she won't see you if you stay here for a month, and you couldn't do that,
you know."

"Why not?" inquired Mr. Hurst.

"Why not?" repeated Mr. Mott, repressing his feelings with some
difficulty. "Food!"

Mr. Hurst started.

"And drink," said Mr. Mott, following up his advantage. "There's no good
in starving yourself for nothing, so you may as well go."

"When I've seen Florrie," said the young man, firmly.

Mr. Mott slammed the door, and for the rest of the day Mr. Hurst saw him
no more. At one o'clock a savoury smell passed the door on its way
upstairs, and at five o'clock a middle-aged woman with an inane smile
looked into the room on her way aloft with a loaded tea-tray. By supper-