In this way the two passed every day the hour from twelve to one. Neither could have said why they walked thus, for Mr. Pendyce had a horror of idleness, and the spaniel John disliked the scent of irises; both, in fact, obeyed that part of themselves which is superior to reason. During this hour, too, Mrs. Pendyce, though longing to walk between her flowers, also obeyed that part of her, superior to reason, which told her that it would be better not. But George's answer came at last. “STOICS' CLUB. “DEAR FATHER, “Yes, Bellew is bringing a suit. I am taking steps in the matter. As to the promise you ask for, I can give no promise of the sort. You may tell Bellew I will see him d---d first. “Your affectionate son, “GEORGE PENDYCE.” Mr. Pendyce received this at the breakfast-table, and while he read it there was a hush, for all had seen the handwriting on the envelope. Mr. Pendyce read it through twice, once with his glasses on and once without, and when he had finished the second reading he placed it in his breast pocket. No word escaped him; his eyes, which had sunk a little the last few days, rested angrily on his wife's white face. Bee and Norah looked down, and, as if they understood, the four dogs were still. Mr. Pendyce pushed his plate back, rose, and left the room. Norah looked up. “What's the matter, Mother?” Mrs. Pendyce was swaying. She recovered herself in a moment. “Nothing, dear. It's very hot this morning, don't you think? I'll Just go to my room and take some sal volatile.” She went out, followed by old Roy, the Skye; the spaniel John, who had been cut off at the door by his master's abrupt exit, preceded her. Norah and Bee pushed back their plates. “I can't eat, Norah,” said Bee. “It's horrible not to know what's going on.” Norah answered “It's perfectly brutal not being a man. You might just as well be a dog as a girl, for anything anyone tells you!” Mrs. Pendyce did not go to her room; she went to the library. Her husband, seated at his table, had George's letter before him. A pen was in his hand, but he was not writing. “Horace,” she said softly, “here is poor John!” Mr. Pendyce did not answer, but put down the hand that did not hold his pen. The spaniel John covered it with kisses. “Let me see the letter, won't you?” Mr. Pendyce handed it to her without a word. She touched his shoulder gratefully, for his unusual silence went to her heart. Mr. Pendyce took no notice, staring at his pen as though surprised that, of its own accord, it did not write his answer; but suddenly he flung it down and looked round, and his look seemed to say: 'You brought this fellow into the world; now see the result!'