The next morning I slept late, until past seven in fact. It had ever been an axiom with us that the indolence attributed to the "artistic temperament" was a foolish tradition. Creative power undoubtedly comes late in the day and in the still night-watches; often I had planned a whole book while in bed; but there are many things to do in literature and art besides creation--research, reading, preparing of palettes, writing of letters and so on, that can be better done early. So we breakfasted at half after seven as a rule. I managed to bathe and shave before Mac's _reveille_ sounded on the piano. As I opened my napkin I saw that Bill had something of importance to impart, and it came out at once. "He's mending the fence!" she exclaimed, passing the toast. "And going about it as though he knew what he was doing," added Mac. I was glad of this discovery of theirs. It would enable me to introduce my own contribution modestly, yet with effect. "I wonder," I said, "if he would approve of that tree being cut down." Mac stirred in his chair. The daily spectacle of those two little boys hacking slivers from the prostrate tree had been very trying to him. "I judge not," he said with energy. "A man who----" "I wish we knew the exact relations between them," I interrupted. "I mean, whether they quarrel at all." "Of course they do," said Bill without thinking. "All married people do--at times." Her husband looked down his nose into his egg. I smiled. "True, since you say it," I replied, "but you must remember that just as no two people look exactly alike, so no two couples live on exactly the same terms. Just as----" "Oh, what do you know about it?" said Bill. "Trust a bachelor to lay down the law." "Those who look on--you know," I protested. "That isn't true in regard to marriage," she retorted, "because unless you are married you _don't_ look on at all, see?" I saw. "I am going to speak to him after breakfast," announced Mac. "He seems a very decent sort of chap. I wonder what he is at sea." "I had quite a little chat with him last night," I began. "You did!" they exclaimed. I nodded, enjoying their surprise. "Yes," I said. "I found you were gone to bed when I finished, and so I went out on the flags for a short walk. He was out there doing the same thing." "Go on!" said Bill. "He didn't say anything about mending the fence," I remarked. "Oh goodness! Tell us what he _did_ say," she implored. "Well, not much. He comes from Hertfordshire." "He's English then! I thought so," said Mac, relieved. "He said No," I answered. "That was one of the most curious remarks he made. He said he was an alien." "Did he, by Jove! So he is; but it's a very strange thing to say," said Mac. Bill regarded me with interest. "He's going to keep us guessing," she remarked, dolefully. "No," I said, taking another piece of toast. "He accepted my invitation to tea this afternoon, and he is going to tell us about himself."