Hermione was not rude to John, and she was tenderness itself to Elise, but slowly, with graceful and increasing tenacity, she began to put pressure on Elise. There was no open strife between her and her brother-in-law, but at the end of a fortnight John had said “Damn” to Elise. He had not meant to say it, but the previous evening had been an exceedingly trying one, and John had been more polite than his nature could sustain. The evening had culminated in John’s trying to save the broken remnants of his remarkably good temper by starting an impersonal topic. “I shall have the lawn mowed to-morrow,” he observed as pleasantly as he could manage, and Hermione replied, “What a pity to cut off the dear little daisies’ heads!” Elise said, “Yes, _must_ it be mown, John?” and John had explained briefly, with an unfortunate edge to his voice, that English lawns were wholly incompatible with the heads of daisies. The subject a little abruptly withered, and if Elise had been married longer she would have known that subjects which abruptly wither need very careful handling if they are to be revived in any satisfactory manner. Elise came into John’s dressing room while he was shaving, and announced quite cheerfully that the lawn mustn’t be mown to-day on any account, because Hermione had a terrible headache and couldn’t bear the sound of a mowing machine under her window. John said “Damn” with his face all over lather, which made it sound fiercer, and Elise exclaimed, “Why, John, I think you’re real mean!” Then they looked at each other aghast. Elise wore her blue silk dressing gown and a lace cap covered with pink rosebuds. A fortnight ago John had told her that when she wore it he felt that he was entertaining the Madonna. It was obvious that he was unprepared to give Elise a suitable entertainment in this character at present. Elise retreated into her bedroom, and John continued shaving. He did not countermand the mowing machine. It began ten minutes later and went on for a quarter of an hour. Every minute of that time John and Elise heard the lawn-mower, as if they had been the heads of the daisies expecting immediate execution. Hermione heard it too, but she knew that she was not going on hearing it. She had never been in the position of a threatened daisy. In a quarter of an hour John told the gardener to stop. The gardener pointed out that it would look rather queer, as he had only just had time to make a stripe across the lawn. John used language which he could only have heard from a Cavalry General confronted by an ill-cooked meal, and retreated into the shrubbery. The gardener said, “My word! The new master has a tongue!” and went into the kitchen to tell the cook, trusting on the strength of his recital to be given a glass of cider.