“Oh, of course he had to go—which was a pity, as he was the first person with a sense of humour who ever entered that village as a resident. One could positively talk sense to him, without being regarded as a lunatic. As a rule, you had to feign imbecility there if you didn’t want to be considered mad. I had just made up my mind to learn to knit men’s ties, instead of babies’ socks, when he departed”—and she looked at Ethel with a grimness, and at the same time a lurking humour, that made it quite impossible for Ethel to keep her face. “And did you change your mind then?” seeing the gaunt spinster was not in the least annoyed at her for laughing. “Yes; I stuck to the babies’ socks. I thought on the whole it was less incongruous for a woman with a face like mine to work for a baby than a man. And that’s the nearest I ever got to a love affair. Just to wonder if I’d knit a man a tie, and change my mind, and knit socks for a little black heathen whelp instead.” “O dear!” said Ethel, with a little smothered gasp, “you don’t mind if I laugh, do you? You really are very amusing.” “Amusing!…” with a little humorous snort. “Well, I don’t mind amusing you; but I do think it’s about the most monstrous thing in the way of a practical joke I know, for Nature to create a creature like me, with a natural inclination to want a mate. Just as if any man could bear to get up every morning of his life and see me there.” “Nonsense,” Ethel exclaimed. “Basil thinks you are very attractive.” “Does he?” drily. Then, with a sudden, swift humour, “Perhaps it’s a pity I didn’t learn to knit ties after all!” “Tell him about why you didn’t instead—and about the village and the doctor’s wife. He’ll be so interested. You will be a positive godsend to him. May I tell him to expect you to tea tomorrow?” “Yes. Tell him, to add to the humour of the situation, I’ll bring across a baby’s sock to knit. We’re both so likely to have a mutual interest in babies.” Ethel kept Basil entertained most of the evening with the account of her interview, rather to the annoyance of Doris, who, for some vague reason, was not at all pleased about the new acquaintance. Perhaps it was because, on one or two occasions when she had remained out later than she should, she had met the music-teacher and encountered a fierce and disapproving glare. Doris was quite willing to be relieved of her charge occasionally, but she did not at all appreciate the idea of a strong-minded individual, who would certainly not hesitate not only to condemn her selfishness, but to look her scorn of it. On the evening of Dudley’s visit, when she first found the gaunt spinster at the flat, she had gone to bed feeling out of sorts with herself and all the world.