“Well, yes, sir, I think so,” said the little landlady rather doubtfully. “If you and your lady will just come inside, I’ll run and look in the box my husband keeps his tools in. And a sitting-room? Well, there is a sitting-room, of course, but seeing what a cold night it is wouldn’t you rather have something by the kitchen fire? Not if you wouldn’t like it, of course, and there’s plenty that wouldn’t; but just step in, sir, and——” “No,” said Mr. Priestley firmly. “We won’t come in yet. We’re very anxious to get our car repaired first. If you’ll get us the file at once, we can be getting on with it while you’re laying our supper. Don’t you think so—er—my dear?” “Certainly,” said Mr. Priestley’s newly adopted dear. “And we’ll have our supper in the kitchen, I think, darling,” she added with a large shiver. She had not spoken before, because she was curious to see how Mr. Priestley would handle things, but she was not going to leave that fire to chance. Mr. Priestley blushed pleasantly at this wifely endearment and coughed. “Very well,” the landlady acquiesced. “I’ll get you the file at once then and your supper will be ready in ten minutes. But wouldn’t the lady like to come in and get warm while you’re doing the motor, sir?” “Oh, no, thank you,” Laura explained gravely. “My husband always likes me to hold the car for him while he’s doing anything to it.” The landlady looked upon this charming couple, holding hands affectionately on her very doorstep, and her heart warmed towards them. Obviously they were very much in love, and probably quite recently married. The glamour of their romance threw itself round her own thin shoulders. “Very well,” she said again, this time with a particular smile for Laura’s benefit—the smile which an elder married woman bestows upon a newly married one who, though a stranger, is yet one with her in the freemasonry of the married woman. It means: “So now _you_ can see through the funny old things too!” And still smiling, the little landlady scurried off in search of a file. “At last!” breathed Mr. Priestley on the doorstep. “We’ll s-soon be warm n-now,” chattered Laura. “Is pneumonia _very_ unp-pleasant, Mr. Mullins?” Evidently the absent landlord possessed a proper feeling for the emergencies of life. In one minute his wife returned, an unmistakable file in her hand. “There you are, sir,” she beamed. “It’s the only one. Will it do?” Mr. Priestley took it in a quivering grasp. “Oh, yes,” he said. “It’ll do. Thank you.” As they vanished hastily from her sight the landlady contrived to throw another understanding smile at Laura. This smile said, as eloquently as a smile may: “We have to humour them, don’t we? You and I know better than to go playing with files, but if they like it—well, bless their funny old hearts! Let them enjoy themselves.” It was a very eloquent smile indeed.