"Oh, but that's like all news!" said Mary, placidly--"Even in our little village here, you never know quite what to believe. One morning you are told that Mrs. Badge's baby has fallen downstairs and broken its neck, and you've scarcely done being sorry for Mrs. Badge, when in comes Mrs. Badge herself, baby and all, quite well and smiling, and she says she 'never did hear such tales as there are in Wiercombe'!" They all laughed. "Well, there's the end of my story,"--said Angus--"I worked on the syndicate for two years, and then was given the sack. The cause of my dismissal was, as I told you, that I published a leading article exposing a mean and dirty financial trick on the part of a man who publicly assumed to be a world's benefactor--and he turned out to be a shareholder in the paper under an 'alias.' There was no hope for me after that--it was a worse affair than that of Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup. So I marched out of the office, and out of London--I meant to make for Exmoor, which is wild and solitary, because I thought I might find some cheap room in a cottage there, where I might live quietly on almost nothing and write my book--but I stumbled by chance on this place instead--and I rather like being so close to the sea." "You are writing a book?" said Mary, her eyes resting upon him thoughtfully. "Yes. I've got a room in the village for half-a-crown a week and 'board myself' as the good woman of the house says. And I'm perfectly happy!" A long pause followed. The fire was dying down from a flame to a dull red glow, and a rush of wind against the kitchen window was accompanied by the light pattering of rain. Angus Reay rose. "I must be going,"--he said--"I've made you quite a visitation! Old David is nearly asleep!" Helmsley looked up. "Not I!" and he smiled--"I'm very wide awake: I like your story, and I like _you_! Perhaps you'll come in again sometimes and have a chat with us?" Reay glanced enquiringly at Mary, who had also risen from her chair, and was now lighting the lamp on the table. "May I?" he asked hesitatingly. "Why, of course!" And her eyes met his with hospitable frankness--"Come whenever you feel lonely!" "I often do that!" he said. "All the better!--then we shall often see you!"--she answered--"And you'll always be welcome!" "Thank-you! I believe you mean it!" Mary smiled. "Why of course I do! I'm not a newspaper syndicate!" "Nor a Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup!" put in Helmsley. Angus threw back his head and gave one of his big joyous laughs. "No! You're a long way off that!" he said--"Good-evening, David!" And going up to the armchair where Helmsley sat he shook hands with him. "Good-evening, Mr. Reay!" rejoined Helmsley, cheerily; "I'm very glad we met this afternoon!" "So am I!" declared Angus, with energy--"I don't feel quite so much of a solitary bear as I did. I'm in a better temper altogether with the world in general!"