Beneath his superficial “unscathed” pose, there was a layer of deep faithfulness. He knew by now that the suffragette was not worthy of the love of a sober Assistant Secretary to a Society Which Believed Itself of Great Importance (one of his latest practical poses). But the thing one knows makes no difference to the thing one feels, if one is young. The gardener was under the impression that his wisdom had dethroned the suffragette from her eminence, but his heart, with the obstinacy peculiar to hearts, continued to look up. “My son is bad. He gets no stronger. There is no reason why he shouldn’t get up, except that he isn’t strong enough to walk.” “I’m sorry.” “I’m not,” said Mrs. Rust automatically, and stood checked by such a decided lie. “What annoys me is Courtesy,” she said after a pause. “Courtesy indeed, she hasn’t treated me fairly. She had the impertinence to tell me last week that she was engaged to that ridiculous young Wise she picked up at Greyville. Engaged indeed, it’s stuff and nonsense, pure defiance. She’s treated me as a sort of matrimonial agent. I wasn’t paying her £200 a year to look for a husband.” “No,” agreed the gardener. “Then why don’t you forbid the banns?” Poor Mrs. Rust’s helplessness in the hands of Courtesy rose vaguely to her memory. “Stuff and nonsense,” she said. “I haven’t yet decided what steps I shall take in the matter. There is no immediate hurry. She has suggested letting the matter drop until Samuel is better. She has many failings, but I think she is fond of me.” “That’s a very attractive failing,” admitted the gardener. “I didn’t come here to discuss Courtesy with you,” snapped Mrs. Rust, suddenly remembering her temper. “I came because Samuel wanted me to come. He seems to be under delusions about you, he thinks he owes you gratitude. In fact—probably under the influence of delirium—he once said you financed his hotel. As a matter of fact I financed it myself, it owes its present success to me.” “It’s awfully good of you to come all this way to bring me misdirected gratitude,” said the gardener. “Stuff and nonsense,” said Mrs. Rust. “I wouldn’t stir an inch out of my way to make you more conceited than you are. But that is the worst of having a son, you have to pay occasional attention to his wishes. Besides, Courtesy brought me up to town and gave the address to the chauffeur, so I really wasn’t consulted. Samuel wishes to see you. All the time he was ill he was asking for the Tra-la-la young man, and now I find he means you. I might have said that right at the beginning, and not have wasted all this time listening to your chatter.” “I’m very glad you didn’t,” said the gardener. “I couldn’t bear a caller who came straight to the point in five words and then left.” “Stuff and nonsense,” said Mrs. Rust. “Are you coming?”