"I think I shall try that girl," said she to Samuel at tea. She said nothing as to the cigar; nor did he. On the following evening, after supper, Mr. Povey burst out: "I think I'll have a weed! You didn't know I smoked, did you?" Thus Mr. Povey came out in his true colours as a blood, a blade, and a gay spark. But dogs and cigars, disconcerting enough in their degree, were to the signboard, when the signboard at last came, as skim milk is to hot brandy. It was the signboard that, more startlingly than anything else, marked the dawn of a new era in St. Luke's Square. Four men spent a day and a half in fixing it; they had ladders, ropes, and pulleys, and two of them dined on the flat lead roof of the projecting shop-windows. The signboard was thirty-five feet long and two feet in depth; over its centre was a semicircle about three feet in radius; this semicircle bore the legend, judiciously disposed, "S. Povey. Late." All the sign-board proper was devoted to the words, "John Baines," in gold letters a foot and a half high, on a green ground. The Square watched and wondered; and murmured: "Well, bless us! What next?" It was agreed that in giving paramount importance to the name of his late father-in-law, Mr. Povey had displayed a very nice feeling. Some asked with glee: "What'll the old lady have to say?" Constance asked herself this, but not with glee. When Constance walked down the Square homewards, she could scarcely bear to look at the sign; the thought of what her mother might say frightened her. Her mother's first visit of state was imminent, and Aunt Harriet was to accompany her. Constance felt almost sick as the day approached. When she faintly hinted her apprehensions to Samuel, he demanded, as if surprised-- "Haven't you mentioned it in one of your letters?" "Oh NO!" "If that's all," said he, with bravado, "I'll write and tell her myself." IV