"No, no, no, James. I'm not joking. As I explained to you, I've got these two children--er--staying with me. It appears that George is too overstrained, too ill, that is, to manage them during the few weeks that Eleanor will be away on tour, and I thought that if Beatrice could be my guest for a week or two until the governess has re-created her nervous system, which I understand will take about a month, I should feel a great weight off my mind. A bachelor household, you know, is not primarily constructed to withstand an invasion by children. You'd find them very difficult here, James, if you hadn't got Beatrice." "Oh, Johnnie, I should love it," his sister-in-law cried. "That is if Jimmie could spare me." "Of course, I could. You'd better take her back with you to-night." "No, really?" said John. "Why that would be splendid. I'm immensely obliged to you both." "He's quite anxious to get rid of me," Beatrice laughed, happily. "I sha'n't be long packin'. Fancy lookin' after Eleanor's two youngsters. I've often thought I _would_ rather like to see if I couldn't bring up children." "Now's your chance," John jovially offered. "Jimmie didn't ever care much for youngsters," Beatrice explained. Her husband laughed bitterly. "Quite enough people hate me, as it is," he sneered, "without deliberately creating a child of my own to add to the number." "Oh, no, of course, dear, I know we're better off as we are," Beatrice said with a soothing pat for her husband's round shoulders. "Only the idea comes into my head now and again that I'd just like to see if I couldn't manage them, that's all, dear. I'm not complaining." "I don't want to hurry you away," James muttered. "But I've got some work to do." "We'd better send the servant out to look for a taxi at once," John suggested. "It's Sunday night, you know." Twenty minutes later, Beatrice looking quite fashionable now in her excitement--so many years had it obliterated--was seated in the taxi; John was half-way along the garden path on his way to join her, when his brother called him back. "Oh, by the way, Johnnie," he said in gruff embarrassment, "I've got an article on Alfred de Vigny coming out soon in _The Nineteenth Century_. It can't bring me in less than fifteen guineas, but it might not be published for another three months. I can show you the editor's letter, if you like. I wonder if you could advance me ten guineas? I'm a little bothered just at the moment. There was a vet's bill for the dog and...." "Of course, of course, my dear fellow. I'll send you a check to-night. Thanks very much for--er--releasing Beatrice, I mean--helping me out of a difficulty with Beatrice. Very good of you. Good-night. I'll send the check at once." "Don't cross it," said James. On the way back to Hampstead in the dank murkiness of the cab, Beatrice became confidential.