"It'll do 'em good," insisted Mr. Hickey, who was selfishly determined to clear the decks for his own personal ends. He had somehow formulated a very surprising set of resolutions as he sat watching Miss Tripp in the discharge of her quasi maternal duties. Primus: It was a shame for a sweet, attractive little woman to wear herself out caring for other people's houses and children. Secundus: If there was another man in the case (as Brewster had insinuated) he was determined to find it out without further delay. Tertius: If not----. Mr. Hickey drew a long breath. "Do you want to go out in the yard a little while?" Miss Tripp was asking the children doubtfully. "It is Norah's afternoon out," she explained to Mr. Hickey, "and I don't like to have them play out of doors unless someone is with them to see that nothing happens. It is such a responsibility," she added with a little sigh. "I had no idea of it when I undertook it; I'm afraid I shouldn't have had the courage to----. Oh, children; wait a minute! Let Aunty Evelyn put on your overshoes--Robbie, dear!" "Come back here, young man!" commanded Mr. Hickey in a voice which effectually arrested the wandering attention of Master Stanford. "Here, I'll fix 'em up. If I can't, I'm not fit to put through another tunnel! Here you, Miss Flutterbudget; is this your coat?" Miss Tripp flew to the rescue. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Hickey," she murmured, flashing a mirthful glance of protest at the engineer. "But to array four small children for out of doors on a winter day is vastly more complicated than digging a tunnel. Wait, Doris; you haven't your mittens." They were all ready at last, and Evelyn herded them carefully out into the back yard and shut the latticed door leading to the street upon them. "Now I must watch them every minute from the library window," she said to Mr. Hickey. "You've no idea what astonishing things they'll think of and--do. One ought to have the eyes of an Argus and the arms of a Briareus to cope successfully with Robert." "Bright boy--very," observed Mr. Hickey absent-mindedly. "I--er--am very fond of boys." "Oh, are you?" asked Evelyn with mild surprise, as she craned her neck to look out of the window. "I hope they won't make their snow-balls too hard. It is really dangerous when the snow is soft." "--Er--I wish you'd stop looking out of that window, Miss Tripp and--er--give me your attention for about five minutes," said Mr. Hickey, with very much the same tone and manner he would have employed in addressing his stenographer. He told himself that he was perfectly cool and collected, but unluckily in his efforts to visualise his inward calm he succeeded in looking particularly stern and professional. "I--er--called on a little matter of business this afternoon, Miss Tripp, and I--to put it clearly before you--would like to recall to your mind the day--something like a month ago, when you--when I--er--met you and asked you to lunch with me. You may recall the fact?"