It was next morning that the father posted a formal, proper,
self-respecting note of invitation, which bore results.




A POOR GENTLEMAN


It was in the drawing-room, after dinner. Mrs. Charman, the large and
kindly hostess, sank into a chair beside her little friend Mrs. Loring, and
sighed a question.

'How do you like Mr. Tymperley?'

'Very nice. Just a little peculiar.'

'Oh, he _is_ peculiar! Quite original. I wanted to tell you about him
before we went down, but there wasn't time. Such a very old friend of ours.
My dear husband and he were at school together--Harrovians. The sweetest,
the most affectionate character! Too good for this world, I'm afraid; he
takes everything so seriously. I shall never forget his grief at my poor
husband's death.--I'm telling Mrs. Loring about Mr. Tymperley, Ada.'

She addressed her married daughter, a quiet young woman who reproduced Mrs.
Charman's good-natured countenance, with something more of intelligence,
the reflective serenity of a higher type.

'I'm sorry to see him looking so far from well,' remarked Mrs. Weare, in