“Have it your own way,” said Mr. Stokes, somewhat perturbed at Mr. Bell’s refusal to live up to the character he had arranged for him. “I wish my husband spent his evenings in the same quiet way,” said Mrs. Henshaw, shaking her head. “Don’t he?” said Mr. Stokes. “Why, he always seems quiet enough to me. Too quiet, I should say. Why, I never knew a quieter man. I chaff ’im about it sometimes.” “That’s his artfulness,” said Mrs. Henshaw. “Always in a hurry to get ’ome,” pursued the benevolent Mr. Stokes. “He may say so to you to get away from you,” said Mrs. Henshaw, thoughtfully. “He does say you’re hard to shake off sometimes.” Mr. Stokes sat stiffly upright and threw a fierce glance in the direction of Mr. Henshaw. “Pity he didn’t tell me,” he said bitterly. “I ain’t one to force my company where it ain’t wanted.” “I’ve said to him sometimes,” continued Mrs. Henshaw, “‘Why don’t you tell Ted Stokes plain that you don’t like his company?’ but he won’t. That ain’t his way. He’d sooner talk of you behind your back.” “What does he say?” inquired Mr. Stokes, coldly ignoring a frantic headshake on the part of his friend. “Promise me you won’t tell him if I tell you,” said Mrs. Henshaw. Mr. Stokes promised. “I don’t know that I ought to tell you,” said Mrs. Henshaw, reluctantly, “but I get so sick and tired of him coming home and grumbling about you.” “Go on,” said the waiting Stokes. Mrs. Henshaw stole a glance at him. “He says you act as if you thought yourself everybody,” she said, softly, “and your everlasting clack, clack, clack, worries him to death.” “Go on,” said the listener, grimly. “And he says it’s so much trouble to get you to pay for your share of the drinks that he’d sooner pay himself and have done with it.” Mr. Stokes sprang from his chair and, with clenched fists, stood angrily regarding the horrified Mr. Bell. He composed himself by an effort and resumed his seat. “Anything else?” he inquired. “Heaps and heaps of things,” said Mrs. Henshaw; “but I don’t want to make bad blood between you.” “Don’t mind me,” said Mr. Stokes, glancing balefully over at his agitated friend. “P’raps I’ll tell you some things about him some day.” “It would be only fair,” said Mrs. Henshaw, quickly. “Tell me now; I don’t mind Mr. Bell hearing; not a bit.” Mr. Bell spoke up for himself. “I don’t want to hear family secrets,” he whispered, with an imploring glance at the vindictive Mr. Stokes. “It wouldn’t be right.” “Well, _I_ don’t want to say things behind a man’s back,” said the latter, recovering himself. “Let’s wait till George comes in, and I’ll say ’em before his face.” Mrs. Henshaw, biting her lip with annoyance, argued with him, but in vain. Mr. Stokes was firm, and, with a glance at the clock, said that George would be in soon and he would wait till he came.