1.

　　The front-door closed softly behind the theatre-party. Dinner wasover, and Parker had just been assisting the expedition out of theplace. Sensitive to atmosphere, he had found his share in the dinnera little trying. It had been a strained meal, and what he liked was aclatter of conversation and everybody having a good time and enjoyingthemselves.

　　"Ellen!" called Parker, as he proceeded down the passage to the emptydining-room. "Ellen!"Mrs Parker appeared out of the kitchen, wiping her hands. Her workfor the evening, like her husband's, was over. Presently what istechnically called a "useful girl" would come in to wash the dishes,leaving the evening free for social intercourse. Mrs Parker had donewell by her patrons that night, and now she wanted a quiet chat withParker over a glass of Freddie Rooke's port.

　　"Have they gone, Horace?" she asked, following him into thedining-room.

　　Parker selected a cigar from Freddie's humidor, crackled it againsthis ear, smelt it, clipped off the end, and lit it. He took thedecanter and filled his wife's glass, then mixed himself awhisky-and-soda.

　　"Happy days!" said Parker. "Yes, they've gone!""I didn't see her ladyship.""You didn't miss much! A nasty, dangerous specimen, she is! 'Alwaysmerry and bright', I don't think. I wish you'd have had my job ofwaiting on 'em, Ellen, and me been the one to stay in the kitchensafe out of it all. That's all I say! It's no treat to _me_ to 'andthe dishes when the atmosphere's what you might call electric. Ididn't envy them that vol-au-vent of yours, Ellen, good as it smelt.

　　Better a dinner of 'erbs where love is than a stalled ox and 'atredtherewith," said Parker, helping himself to a walnut.

　　"Did they have words?"Parker shook his head impatiently.

　　"That sort don't have words, Ellen. They just sit and goggle.""How did her ladyship seem to hit it off with Miss Mariner, Horace?"Parker uttered a dry laugh.

　　"Ever seen a couple of strange dogs watching each other sort of wary?

　　That was them! Not that Miss Mariner wasn't all that was pleasant andnice-spoken. She's all right, Miss Mariner is. She's a little queen!

　　It wasn't her fault the dinner you'd took so much trouble over wasmore like an evening in the Morgue than a Christian dinner-party. Shetried to help things along best she could. But what with Sir Derekchewing his lip 'alf the time and his mother acting about as matey asa pennorth of ice-cream, she didn't have a chance. As for theguv'nor,-well, I wish you could have seen him, that's all. You know,Ellen, sometimes I'm not altogether easy in my mind about theguv'nor's mental balance. He knows how to buy cigars, and you tell mehis port is good--I never touch it myself--but sometimes he seems tome to go right off his onion. Just sat there, he did, all throughdinner, looking as if he expected the good food to rise up and bitehim in the face, and jumping nervous when I spoke to him. It's not myfault," said Parker, aggrieved. "_I_ can't give gentlemen warningbefore I ask 'em if they'll have sherry or hock. I can't ring a bellor toot a horn to show 'em I'm coming. It's my place to bend over andwhisper in their ear, and they've no right to leap about in theirseats and make me spill good wine. (You'll see the spot close bywhere you're sitting, Ellen. Jogged my wrist, he did!) I'd like toknow why people in the spear of life which these people are in can'tbehave themselves rational, same as we do. When we were walking outand I took you to have tea with my mother, it was one of thepleasantest meals I ever ate. Talk about 'armony! It was alove-feast!""Your ma and I took to each other right from the start, Horace,"said Mrs Parker softly--"That's the difference.""Well, any woman with any sense would take to Miss Mariner. If Itold you how near I came to spilling the sauce-boat accidentallyover that old fossil's head, you'd be surprised, Ellen. She just satthere brooding like an old eagle. If you ask my opinion, MissMariner's a long sight too good for her precious son!""Oh, but Horace! Sir Derek's a baronet!""What of it? Kind 'earts are more than coronets and simple faith thanNorman blood, aren't they?""You're talking Socialism, Horace.""No, I'm not. I'm talking sense. I don't know who Miss Mariner'sparents may have been--I never enquired--but anyone can see she's alady born and bred. But do you suppose the path of true love is goingto run smooth, for all that? Not it! She's got a 'ard time ahead ofher, that poor girl""Horace!" Mrs Parker's gentle heart was wrung. The situation hintedat by her husband was no new one--indeed, it formed the basis of atleast fifty per cent of the stories in the True Heart NoveletteSeries, of which she was a determined reader--but it had never failedto touch her. "Do you think her ladyship means to come between themand wreck their romance?""I think she means to have a jolly good try.""But Sir Derek has his own money, hasn't he? I mean, it's not likewhen Sir Courtenay Travers fell in love with the milk-maid and wasdependent on his mother, the Countess, for everything. Sir Derek canafford to do what he pleases, can't he?"Parker shook his head tolerantly. The excellence of the cigar and thesoothing qualities of the whisky-and-soda had worked upon him, and hewas feeling less ruffled.