“Where’s my nice lettuce?” demanded Hash. “Haven’t got it yet. I’ve come in to get a cup of hot tea and a slice of cake for that young man next door. He’s got so wet washing that big dog.” It was some little time before she returned. “I’ve been having a talk with that young man,” she said. “He liked his tea very much.” “Did he?” said Hash shortly. “Ho, did he? Where’s my lettuce?” Claire uttered an exclamation. “There! If I haven’t gone and forgotten it!” Hash rose, a set look on his face. “Never mind,” he said. “Never mind.” “You aren’t going?” “Yes, I am.” “What, already?” “Yes, already.” “Well, if you must,” said Claire. “I like Mr. Twist,” she went on pensively. “He’s what I call a perfect gentleman.” “He’s what I call a perisher,” said Hash sourly. “Nice way he’s got of speaking. His Christian name’s Alexander. Do you call him that or Aleck?” “If you care to ’ear what I call him,” replied Hash with frigid politeness, “you can come and listen at our kitchen door.” “Why, you surely aren’t jealous!” cried Claire, wide-eyed. “Who, me?” said Hash bitterly. It was some few minutes later that Sam, watering his garden like a good householder, heard sounds of tumult from within. Turning off his hose, he hastened toward the house and reached it in time to observe the back door open with some violence and his new odd-job man emerge at a high rate of speed. A crockery implement of the kind used in kitchens followed the odd-job man, bursting like a shell against the brick wall which bounded the estate of Mon Repos. The odd-job man himself, heading for the street, disappeared, and Sam, going into the kitchen, found Mr. Todhunter fuming. “Little tiff?” inquired Sam. Hash gave vent to a few sailorly oaths. “He’s been flirting with my girl and I’ve been telling him off.” Sam clicked his tongue. “Boys will be boys,” he said. “But, Hash, didn’t I gather from certain words you let fall when you came home last night that your ardour was beginning to wane a trifle?” “Ur?” “I say, from the way you spoke last night about the folly of hasty marriages, I imagined that you had begun to experience certain regrets. In other words, you gave me the impression of a man who would be glad to be free from sentimental entanglements. Yet here you are positively--yes, by Jove, positively jousting!” “What say?” “I was quoting from a little thing I dashed off up at the office recently. Have you changed your mind about hasty marriages then?” Hash frowned perplexedly at the stove. He was not a man who found it easy to put his thoughts into words. “Well, it’s like this: I saw her mother yesterday.” “Ah! That is a treat I have not had.” “Do you think girls get like their mothers, Sam?” “Sometimes.” Hash shivered. “Well, the ’ole thing is, when I’m away from the girl, I get to thinking about her.” “Very properly,” said Sam. “Absence, it has been well said, makes the heart grow fonder.” “Thinking of her mother, I mean.” “Oh, of her mother?”