There existed a sympathetic bond between him and Mrs. Cotterill, despite her prim taciturnity and her exasperating habit of sitting with her hands pressed tight against her body and one over the other. Occasionally he teased her—and she liked being teased. He had glimpses now and then of her secret soul; he was perhaps the only person in Bursley thus privileged. Then there was Nellie. Denry and Nellie were great friends. For the rest of the world she had grown up, but not for Denry, who treated her as the chocolate child, while she, if she called him anything, called him respectfully "Mr." The Cotterills had a fairly large old house with a good garden "up Bycars Lane," above the new park and above all those red streets which Mr. Cotterill had helped to bring into being. Mr. Cotterill built new houses with terra-cotta facings for others, but preferred an old one in stucco for himself. His abode had been saved from the parcelling out of several Georgian estates. It was dignified. It had a double entrance gate, and from this portal the drive started off for the house door, but deliberately avoided reaching the house door until it had wandered in curves over the entire garden. That was the Georgian touch! The modern touch was shown in Councillor Cotterill’s bay windows, bathroom, and garden squirter. There was stabling, in which were kept a Victorian dog-cart and a Georgian horse, used by the councillor in his business. As sure as ever his wife or daughter wanted the dog-cart, it was either out, or just going out, or the Georgian horse was fatigued and needed repose. The man who groomed the Georgian also ploughed the flowerbeds, broke the windows in cleaning them, and put blacking on brown boots. Two indoor servants had differing views as to the frontier between the kingdom of his duties and the kingdom of theirs. In fact, it was the usual spacious household of successful trade in a provincial town. Denry got to Bycars Lane without a breakdown. This was in the days, quite thirteen years ago, when automobilists made their wills and took food supplies when setting forth. Hence Denry was pleased. The small but useful fund of prudence in him, however, forbade him to run the car along the unending sinuous drive. The May night was fine, and he left the loved vehicle with his new furs in the shadow of a monkey-tree near the gate. As he was crunching towards the door, he had a beautiful idea: "I’ll take ’em all out for a spin. There ’ll just be room!" he said.