This was delicately put, for in truth Mrs. Walters was very distinctly stout. The landlady shook her head. "It is not fat," she announced solemnly, pinching her own plump arm. "No?" questioned Hazel gently, surprised. "No," Mrs. Walters averred, with grave insistency, "it is not fat. I am blown out, you know, Miss. Puffy, as you might say." Hazel crossed the room, and entered the tiny bedchamber beyond. So this was where he slept! Dear, old, plodding Gerald, how she hoped he was comfortable. She made bold to sit on the bed to test its springs. There was not much response to her vigorous bouncing. Everything was clean and tidy, but there was certainly no superfluity of luxury. The sight of the water-bottle put Hazel in mind of the distressed geranium. She took it up and made her way to the outer room again. "You do not mind?" she asked brightly of the landlady. "I am so fond of tending plants." Mrs. Walters replied graciously enough, but commented upon the amazing amount of water the plant "took." This expression of opinion went far to reassure Hazel on the subject of the boys’ systems; food and drink were evidently subjects on which Mrs. Walters was wont to exaggerate. Teddie’s bedchamber was the counterpart of Gerald’s, and Hazel had soon made her inspection of it. There was but one striking characteristic—not unusual to top bedrooms—to mark it from the other: whereas in the lower room all was concise, in pairs and sets, upstairs the ewer did not match with the basin, whilst an enormous tumbler overshadowed a diminutive water-bottle. The mirror was cracked across, making one’s features appear horribly defective and out of drawing, and the few cheap ornaments were for the most part oddments—a detail which the girl’s quick eye noted as a slight improvement upon the austere, unbending stiffness of the severe pairs, ranged upon mantelshelf and toilet-table in Gerald’s sanctum. The loving sister smoothed and patted the little white pillow—Mrs. Walters had remained without upon the landing—and, from her position at the head of the bed, took note of the exact view of the room that must needs meet her brother’s waking eyes in the morning light. It was not particularly cheerful: a rickety chest of drawers, lacking two knobs; and above it, hung all askew, a large card bearing the words, "Lord, remember me, a sinner," was within his direct range of vision. The text was printed in silver letters, surrounded by a maze of pink roses, whilst from behind a large cluster of the same blossoms, upon the left of the card, there arose, with amazing abruptness and lack of warning, an emaciated church spire. Hazel could only hope that Teddie was not prone to lie long and reflect; or if he was, that, for his own peace of mind, he kept a clear conscience.