“Of course one always _does_ call at Watters, but it isn’t the thing to rush. Five or six months is quite soon enough for really _old_ inhabitants. But I’ve been meaning to go. I was only waiting until the balance-sheet of the Kindness to Kitchenmaids came in. They’ll be sure to give to that, because, if you don’t, it looks as though you couldn’t afford a kitchenmaid, like people who profess they adore walking when you stop to offer them a lift. It was so difficult to find out what they _were_--the Watters crowd, I mean. One was afraid they might offer one tea in the kitchen--not that one ever _does_ get tea at a first call, but they couldn’t be expected to know that. Still, I don’t mind going, if you think I ought. There’s the Onion-Protesters, too, and the Paper Roses.” “They seem very decent people,” Lanty answered shortly. “Not by any means savages, as you suggest. I should be glad if you could find time to call, as I have already met the daughter twice, but I shall be extremely annoyed if you ask them for a penny at a first visit.” “But it’s my duty to get all I can for my societies,” his aunt urged. “I do so despise people who take up causes, and then forget all about them! Let me see--is it _one_ year’s subscription or two that I owe to the Church Army? I suppose you could tell me if I brought you my bank-book? And are you thinking of going to the Roselands garden-party, to-day?” Lanty said no; he had work on hand, and couldn’t be taken from it; and Helwise thought how snappy he had grown of late, taciturn at meals, and quick to take all her statements awry. It was tiresome when a man began to grow middle-aged and surly. She congratulated herself upon being neither one nor the other. And Lanty thought of the morning’s problem, and longed to speak of it, but did not. He would receive more consolation from the shut lips of his father’s portrait than from the mindless mouth of his aunt. He could not tell her, but he fancied he could have told Hamer Shaw. Hamer had captured him, even in their brief meeting. He could picture himself laying the case before the big, sane mind, feeling his burden lightened by the big, generous hand. But he knew he would not speak; he had learned to keep silence too long. He would see this through alone, as he had seen many another anxious point. He went into his office, and shut the door. Helwise spent the rest of the day hunting up subscription-lists. CHAPTER VIII NEW WINE IN OLD BOTTLES The next afternoon he ran into Harriet Knewstubb, wheeling her bicycle into his front hall. She bestowed upon him the kind of cool nod that you keep for the butcher’s boy when you find him loitering at your door without obvious excuse. She was a plain, straight girl, with keen, dark eyes and a breeziness of manner that made the air sing in your ears.