the new nursemaids. A general increase in wages served as a temporary
restraint, and a second increase was plainly in sight. For the first
time in his life Mr. Bingle possessed a secret unshared with his wife:
he did not tell her of the raise in wages.

Flanders announced that rehearsals for the play would be started early
in July. The company had been chosen and a theatre taken in his own
name. Mr. Bingle preferred to remain a silent and unrecognised
instrument in the enterprise. He remembered in time that he was a
deacon in the church hard by, and was sorely afraid that while his own
conscience might be perfectly clear in the matter it wasn't by any
means certain that the congregation possessed the same kind of a
conscience.

It became necessary, therefore, for Miss Fairweather to give up her
place and prepare for the task ahead of her, especially as her role
called for a bit of dancing in the second act, demanding considerable
preliminary work under the instruction of a teacher. Mrs. Bingle was
rather glad to see her go. Secretly she was beginning to mistrust the
young lady's intentions where Mr. Bingle was concerned. It was her
recently formed opinion that one can never trust an actress, no matter
how closely she is watched or how frankly she looks you in the eye
while you are watching.

Mr. Bingle called Miss Fairweather and the good-looking Flanders into
his study a few days before the time set for her departure. He closed
the door carefully behind them and then crossed over to glance out of
the window into the garden, where Mrs. Bingle was chatting earnestly
with Dr. Fiddler in the shade of a glorious oak. Mr. Bingle had had
something on his mind for a long, long time. The fate of Agnes Glenn