“I’ll answer for Walter,” Mr. Fisher said concisely. Of course he, a man, knew better than she did what Walter, also a man, would like; that was plainly conveyed in his manner. “It will be better for you and the children,” he went on, with gracious benevolence, for as he looked at Florence he thought how girlish she was. He felt quite strongly that in her husband’s absence it was his duty to look after her, and to teach her, pleasantly, the way in which she should go. It was absurd to suppose that a woman should know it without any direction from his sex, and he was now the proper person to give it. “I will send you plenty of novels to read, and if you would allow me to introduce you to her,” he added, with a shade of pomposity in his voice, “there is a friend of mine at Witley—Mrs. Burnett. You would be excellent companions for each other, I should say, for her husband comes up to town every morning, and——” “I know her a little,” Florence said, “a tall, slight woman with sweet grey eyes.” “I never looked at her eyes,” Mr. Fisher said quickly, and Florence felt reproved for having mentioned them. Of course, he would not look at the eyes of a married woman. Mr. Fisher had clear and distinct views about the proprieties, which he thought were invented especially for married and marriageable women. “Perhaps Miss Dunlop would pay you a visit,” he suggested. “She has her father to take care of. Besides, Mrs. Baines is staying with me.” “I saw Mrs. Baines with Wimple the other day. Has she adopted him?” “With Mr. Wimple,” Florence said, bewildered at the sudden mention of the name again; and then remembering Walter, she added loyally, “she likes him because he is Walter’s friend.” “He writes well,” Mr. Fisher answered, as if he were making a remark that surprised himself. “He has done some work for us, and done it very well too.” Then he unfolded the details in regard to the taking of the house. Florence found to her surprise that he had arranged them all carefully. “Let me see,” he said, “this is Monday. You can go on Saturday, I suppose? I think that would be the best day for my mother to arrive.” “Oh yes. There are things to get ready and to put away, of course.” “They won’t take you long,” he answered shortly. “I dare say it will do the children good,” she said, reluctantly. “Of course it will.” “I might ask Aunt Anne to take the children to-morrow—I am sure she would—then I could soon get the place ready.” “Mrs. Baines? Yes, it would be an excellent plan to send her on first.” “It is very kind of you; don’t you think that you are really paying too much rent, Mr. Fisher?” “Not at all, not at all; it is a fair one, and I shall be very glad to have the house.”