"Why! you are even more reasonable than I expected," cried Lionel. "If I please! How could a man refuse anything after so polite a prelude? If I please! My rent, if I please, is one pound, three and sevenpence; and I must admit that the sum is paltry. If I please to exist (and up to the present I have been delighted to fall in with the schemes of Providence) I can do so for some twenty-four shillings a week. It includes," he added hopefully, "the washing?" She nodded grimly and stretched out her hand. Lionel, with an easy smile, waved her to the door. "To-morrow, Mrs. Barker, if you please. At the moment I regret to say that my funds do not amount to the necessary sum. To-morrow I make no doubt that----" Mrs. Barker interrupted with brisk invective. It appeared that Lionel was several weeks already in arrears. She, it seemed, was a lone widow, earning her bread by the sweat of her brow, and she would not be put upon. The position had become intolerable: either he must pay his rent or leave the next morning. "Let us consider the state of affairs," said Lionel, unruffled. "You, it appears, need your money--or rather, my money--and I can not gainsay the moral claim. You have attended to my simple wants in a manner beyond praise, and I would cheerfully pay you your weight in gold (after the pleasing custom in the East) had I the precious ore. But at the moment my capital"--he searched his pockets--"amounts to sixpence ha'penny; hence the deplorable _impasse_. My profession holds out no prospect of immediate or adequate reward: briefs are lacking and editors slow to recognize merit. I have pawned such of my wardrobe as is not necessary to support the illusion of an independent gentleman. What do you suggest as a solution of our difficulties? It is repugnant to both of us that I should live on your charity. I am open to any bright idea." Unluckily the landlady was not an imaginative woman. She could suggest nothing, save that Lionel should pay his rent or leave. The method of raising money was left entirely to him, but the necessity was insisted on in forcible terms. "An ultimatum?" said the lodger thoughtfully. "Well, I can not blame you. As you have no illuminating schemes, Mrs. Barker, I must rely on myself. But rest assured that you shall be paid. What! I am young and strong; my clothes, thanks to judicious mending and a light hand with the brush, will pass muster; we are in London, the richest city in the world. I will go out and look for a fairy godmother." At this resolve Mrs. Barker broke into cries of protest. With a feminine distrust of her own sex she declared that no such creature should pass her threshold. For fifty years she had lived respectable, and it was her firm intention to die in the same persuasion. Lionel raised a deprecating hand.