smell so bad to-day? Or you've had a rise? Quick! I must hear all
about it."

"You shall," Arnold replied. "It is a wonderful story. Listen. Have
you ever heard the fable of Dick Whittington?"

"Married his employer's daughter, of course. What's she like,
Arnold? Have you seen her? Did you save her life? When are you going
to see her again?"

Chetwode was already on his knees, dragging out an old trunk from
underneath the faded cupboard. Suddenly he paused with a gesture of
despair.

"Alas!" he exclaimed. "My dream fades away. Old Weatherley was
married only last year. Consequently, his daughter--"

"He can't have one," she interrupted, ruthlessly. "Tell me the news
at once?"

"I am going to dine with old Weatherley," he announced.

The girl smiled, a little wistfully.

"How funny! But you will get a good dinner, won't you, Arnold? Eat
ever so much, dear. Yesterday I fancied that you were getting thin.
I do wish I could see what you have in the middle of the day."

"Little mother!" he laughed. "To-day I gorged myself on poached
eggs. What did Isaac give you?"