enough, and something considerable over. Enough over, indeed, to run
the house and grounds. Mrs. Alpha could always sleep soundly at night
secure in the thought that her husband would smooth away every
difficulty for her. He could do all things so much more efficiently
than she could, were it tackling a cook or a tradesman, or deciding
about the pattern of flowers in a garden-bed.

At the finish of the luncheon the painter, who had been meditative,
suddenly raised his glass.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, with solemnity, "I beg to move
that father be and hereby is a brick."

"Carried nem. con.," said the eldest son.

"Loud cheers!" said the more pert of the twins.

And Mr. Alpha was enchanted with his home and his home-life.



III


That luncheon was the latest and the most profound of a long series of
impressions which had been influencing my mental attitude towards the
excellent, the successful, the entirely agreeable Mr. Alpha. I walked
home, a distance of some three miles, and then I walked another three
miles or so on the worn carpet of my study, and at last the cup of my
feelings began to run over, and I sat down and wrote a letter to my