The whole scene--the vivid green of the marsh grass, the grey willows, the boat with its wet oars flashing at regular intervals, the red-capped boy, and the sound of the fresh, shrill laughter of the crew, all fixed themselves on his mind with that vividness of impression which trivial external things so often make upon a brain labouring with some inward trouble. CHAPTER III. "What a state your boots are in!" exclaimed Castalia, pausing at the foot of the stairs, which she happened to be descending as her husband entered the house. "And why did you come by the back way?" "I was worried, and did not wish to meet people and be chattered to. I thought the meadow-path would be quiet, and so it was." "Quiet! Yes; but how horribly muddy! Do change your wet boots at once, Ancram!" There was little need for her to insist on this proceeding. Algernon hastened to his room, pulled off his wet boots, and desired that they should be thrown away. "They can be dried and cleaned, sir," said plump-faced Lydia, aghast at this order. "My good girl you may do what you please with them. I shall never wear them again. Slight boots of that sort that have once been wet through become shapeless, don't you understand? Take them away." When the master of the house descended to the drawing-room, he found a paper, squarely folded in the shape of a letter, lying in a conspicuous position on the centre table. It was Mr. Gladwish the shoemaker's bill, accompanied by an urgent request for immediate payment. "More wall-paper, Cassy," said her husband, flinging himself on the sofa. "Do you know, Lydia tells me the man was quite insolent!" said Castalia. "What can be done with such people? They don't seem to me to have the least idea who we are!" "Oh, confound the brutes! Don't let us talk about them!" But Castalia continued to talk about them in a strain of mingled wonder and disgust. She did not cease until dinner was announced, and Algernon was by that time so thoroughly wearied by his conjugal _tête-à-tête_, that he even received with something like satisfaction the announcement that Castalia expected the Misses Rose and Violet McDougall to pass the evening at Ivy Lodge. "I daresay your mother will come too," said Castalia, "and bring Rhoda Maxfield with her. I asked her." "Rhoda? Why on earth do you invite that little Maxfield?" "What is your objection to her, Ancram?" "Oh, I have no objection to her in the world. But I should not have thought she was precisely the sort of person to suit you."