Mr. Billing cleared his throat, but nothing came of it. He cleared it
again.

"I couldn't let you do all the good," said his wife, hastily. "It
wouldn't be fair. I must help."

Mr. Billing lit his pipe noisily, and then took it out into the back-yard
and sat down to think over the situation. The ungenerous idea that his
wife was making goodness serve her own ends was the first that occurred
to him.

His suspicions increased with time. Mrs. Billing's good works seemed to
be almost entirely connected with hospitality. True, she had entertained
Mr. Purnip and one of the ladies from the Settlement to tea, but that
only riveted his bonds more firmly. Other visitors included his sister-
in-law, for whom he had a great distaste, and some of the worst-behaved
children in the street.

"It's only high spirits," said Mrs. Billing; "all children are like that.
And I do it to help the mothers."

"And 'cos you like children," said her husband, preserving his good-
humour with an effort.

There was a touch of monotony about the new life, and the good deeds that
accompanied it, which, to a man of ardent temperament, was apt to pall.
And Elk Street, instead of giving him the credit which was his due,
preferred to ascribe the change in his behaviour to what they called
being "a bit barmy on the crumpet."