all that was comin' to me out of it, but here's this check. Perhaps
you'll sign the receipt. I guess they been puttin' it over you all
right. You're a little too soft with 'em."

Mr. Gwynne was an even-tempered man, but Mr. Sleighter's patronising
manner and his criticism of his business ability wrought in him a rage
that he could with difficulty control. He remembered he was in his own
house, however, and that the man before him was a stranger. While he was
searching for pen and ink the door opened and his wife entered the room.
Mr. Sleighter, with his hat still upon his head, was intently gazing
out of the window, easily rocking on the two hind legs of the chair. The
door opened behind him.

"My dear," said Mr. Gwynne, "will you excuse me? I am engaged."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn't know any one was here. I merely
wanted--"

Mr. Sleighter glanced over his shoulder.

"Mr. Sleighter," said Mr. Gwynne. "My wife."

It was not his tone, however, that brought Mr. Sleighter hurriedly to
his feet with his hat in his hand. It was something in the bearing of
the little lady standing behind him.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I hope you are well," he said, bowing
elaborately before her.

"Thank you very much, I am quite well. I have heard a great deal about