until they had gone that all the wrong things had been taken to pay the debt; instead of getting rid of a lot of rubbish, as they had hoped, some of the nicest bits of furniture in the house had gone, although she kept telling him all the time. We all agreed that a genius should not take his wife about with him. She is there to fulfil ends which are of no interest to society, and if she is the right wife for him she will be as unsocial as a lake by moonlight. If she is the wrong kind she will make him fidgety and spoil the party, so she should amuse herself in other circles, except in houses where she can bring her knitting without exciting compassion. I am told that the Figginses still fight over the spirit of that harmless piece of doggerel, and both find it healing to their wounds. It is nice to think of, isn’t it? _CHAPTER XXII_: CHARITY A few years after she left the cradle, Anne came to the decision that, whatever else she did, she would not be charitable. I found that this meant, more explicitly, that she would not wear a bonnet, nor gloves that were too long in the fingers. I wonder what it feels like to be one of the poor, and realise that one’s only callers are sure to be people who wear gloves that are too long in the fingers. I am never at home to that kind of visitor myself, but for those who have to answer the door in person there can be no escape. Also, how distressing it must be when the visitor sits down and remarks how clever we have been to make this poky room so nice, and are those our husband’s socks? How many does he get through in the week? I tried it on Mrs. Van Dieman one day, because I know she has a district. My entrance was rather spoilt by the butler being obliged to show me in, but after he had shut the door I tripped up to Mrs. Van Dieman with my most sympathetic smile and said: “What a sweet outlook you have. It must be such a comfort in your sordid life to be able to grow flowers.” I explained that I was district-visiting, and she happened to be first on my list to-day. “I hope your poor husband has been keeping less intoxicated lately?” I added. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said coldly. “Well, well, we must take the good with the bad, I suppose, and be thankful if he has his health,” I said, shaking my head gloomily, “but you must tell him from me that I hope that he is going to try to keep straight now. And you, dear Mrs. Van Dieman, must try to be less extravagant; they tell me you spend a great deal on dress, you know. I am sure you gave as much for that little thing you have on as I am able to spend in the whole year on my clothes--though it is very pretty, of course.”