customers, just like the young shop gentlemen, during the next sale. And
if he gets on, he is to be made an assistant, ma'am, at the first
opportunity. He has got to be as gentlemanly as he can, ma'am; and if he
ain't, ma'am, he says it won't be for want of trying. Mr. Maynard has took
a great fancy to him."

"He _is_ getting on, Jane," said my wife.

"Yes, ma'am," said Jane thoughtfully; "he _is_ getting on."

And she sighed.

That next Sunday as I drank my tea I interrogated my wife. "How is this
Sunday different from all other Sundays, little woman? What has happened?
Have you altered the curtains, or re-arranged the furniture, or where is
the indefinable difference of it? Are you wearing your hair in a new way
without warning me? I perceive a change clearly, and I cannot for the life
of me say what it is."

Then my wife answered in her most tragic voice, "George," she said, "that
William has not come near the place to-day! And Jane is crying her heart
out upstairs."

There followed a period of silence. Jane, as I have said, stopped singing
about the house, and began to care for our brittle possessions, which
struck my wife as being a very sad sign indeed. The next Sunday, and the
next, Jane asked to go out, "to walk with William," and my wife, who never
attempts to extort confidences, gave her permission, and asked no
questions. On each occasion Jane came back looking flushed and very
determined. At last one day she became communicative.