"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful things, was it not?" "Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things." "And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?" "Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil your carpet." The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day. "Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about at first," she remarked, in order to say something. "I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know, but--I always want to be of any use." She looked at him inquiringly. "I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can help you in any way--you have only to say the word." Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had suffered during the greater part of the last three years. "You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a headache." "Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed embarrassed. "You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance. "I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think that you are one of the best of them." "I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful." "I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs. Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the window at the driving sleet.