—Was, in itself, proof of the ease with which cultured habits can be acquired by those who set their minds to the task. Before going she, prefacing by the remark that she had called for a quiet chat, spoke at length and with great rapidity. They were living, George and herself, up West; Mrs. Rollinson observed that the exact address was not tendered, and a return call was evidently unnecessary. The present scheme was going on remarkably well, astonishingly well, amazingly well, and young Mrs. Rollinson had special cause for gratification in that it originated with her. For various reasons that her mother-in-law would not understand, if explained, the present scheme had taken the place of the old one, and a still newer one was in contemplation. George and his City friends knew how to manage these affairs to the best advantage. Unfortunately, it seemed likely the public might exhibit a certain reticence when the new idea was submitted to them, and investors would only become eager when they discovered that the shares, or most of them, had been privately subscribed. Just as many people only wanted to go to theatres where the notice “House Full” was exhibited, so some did not apply for shares unless they anticipated difficulty in procuring them. “And George,” said young Mrs. Rollinson, refastening her fur coat, “is anxious to show he had not forgotten you, and he asked me to say that, for the sake of old times, he is quite willing to let you take up—” “You tell George,” interrupted his mother, “that whenever the time arrives that he wants to be kept out of the workhouse, he can come along to me!” I think I said something in approval of young Mrs. Rollinson’s manner of giving instructions to her coachman. To be exact, it ought to be mentioned that there was a distinct trace of asperity in her tones. Young Mrs. Rollinson said “Home, Watson!” on a good many occasions, and at various places, before the one evening when she gave to the coachman a different destination; the two well-matched horses broke down the austere behaviour of a life-time by winking at each other. George arrived at Chalk Farm by yellow omnibus, that night, after his mother had gone to rest in the back room; she came out with no indication of surprise, and started at once to make up a bed for him on the sofa. He seemed inclined to retain possession of his silk hat, partly that he might gaze into it as he gave halting explanations, but his mother wrested this from him, and ordered him to make himself at home. “I never heard for certain,” she said, when he had come to an end of the list of disasters, “but are there any children?” George shook his head negatively. “That’s just as well,” she remarked, with cheerfulness. “Now promise me, George, before we settle anything else: don’t divorce her.” “I’m willing to give you my word, mother.”