“Yes, yes, I want it. Then I’ll show you I was right,” said he, triumphantly, to his brother. Annie had risen, and was crossing the room to the door. George interposed. “No, no, not to-night. Don’t you see she is tired? You can’t ask her to ransack your portmanteau to-night for a paper of no importance. It will do to-morrow.” “No, it won’t do to-morrow,” said Harry, who was not in a state to brook contradiction. “I say I will prove it to you now, to-night. It is of importance, of great importance, very important! You said I was wrong; I say I’m right, and I’ll prove it.” Before the end of this speech, the last words of which were spoken with halting gravity, Annie had left the room, gently insisting upon passing George, who would still have tried to prevent her going. Harry, luckily, did not see his brother’s good-natured attempt to save his tired little wife a tedious search for an old newspaper. She went up to their room; it was Harry’s old room, with a second little bed put up in it. His portmanteau had been unstrapped. She turned out the gas in trying to turn it up; so she opened the door and dragged the portmanteau into the corridor, under the burner outside. Fatigue had dulled her faculties, and it was a long time before she found what she wanted. She was still searching when she heard heavy footsteps behind her, and looking round from where she was on her knees, she saw Wilfred leaning against the friendly wall. “Let me help you,” said he; and he knelt down beside her, not without difficulty. She thanked him, though his assistance was not likely to prove valuable. “Harry is a brute to you,” he said, solemnly. “Oh, no; he is only a little thoughtless!” “Yes, he is,” said Wilfred. “He is a brute, because he is a fool. But he will have to treat you better now he has brought you home. We’ll see to that.” “Oh, I hope you won’t interfere; it would only make it a great deal worse for me! He is not cruel to me, and I don’t mind his neglect.” “I dare say you would rather have his neglect than his attention, and I quite agree with you. And now you have three nice new brothers, who will give you all the attention you want,” said he, looking at her affectionately over the portmanteau, while he supported himself on his elbows on the edge of it. “Thank you; you won’t find me very exacting,” said she, turning over some papers in search of the one she wanted. But he would not go. “You maybe as exacting as you like to me,” he continued, monotonously; “I would do anything for you. You are a sweet, good little lady, and you may take me to church if you like.” She had at last found what she wanted, and rose quickly from her knees, while Wilfred slowly followed her example. She had shut the portmanteau and pushed it back into the room before he had had time to do more than offer to do so. As she shut the door and was going down-stairs, he put his hand gently on her arm, and they went down-stairs together. In the hall he said, gently: