"A most undesirable and unnecessary change," said his wife decisively, picking up her knitting again. "August is the hottest month, and August in London would be unbearable. Besides, change for the mere sake of change is childish. You might as well suggest our going somewhere else than Cromer." "Well ... er ..." said Mr. Hedderwick nervously, "why shouldn't we? Cromer is a charming place--charming; but we have been there twelve years running. Don't you think----" "Cromer suits my health. And yours," Alicia added after a moment's thought. "And mother would be disappointed if we didn't go. You don't seem to have thought of that." Her husband opened his mouth to say "I have, my dear," but changed the words to "Oh ... ah ... yes ... of course." Then he got up, walked to the window in rather an aimless fashion, and stared out. Presently he began to whistle. "Please do not whistle, Robert," said Alicia reprovingly. "You know I can not endure it." "I beg your pardon," said Robert submissively. "I forgot." "You want something to do," observed his wife, as one who gives an order. "You've done nothing but smoke since dinner. Why don't you go and dig in the garden?" "I--I don't feel like gardening." "Or read. Where is your book that----" "I--I don't feel like reading." "The truth is, you don't know what you _do_ want," said Alicia firmly. "You men are just like children when you haven't got a definite task. Until you retired from the business you were always perfectly happy. Now that your days are free you don't know what to do with yourself. Here! come and hold my wool for me!" She laid her knitting down on the table and picked up a skein of white wool that lay near. Her husband, with a resigned expression, mutely held up his hands. The wool was placed over them, and then, after strict injunctions not to stir, or get tangled, or drop an end, or breathe too audibly, Mrs. Hedderwick began to wind it into a ball.