Master and Maid

ipal's wife and watching the pick-up. He noted moreover that behind her stood a little group of the younger masters, and that they appeared deeply interested in her remarks; while her attention

absorb himself in the Latin prose of Lower VIth classical, but he was acutely conscious of the soft weight that leant against him, and he found his eyes wandering from the sheets he held to the top of Lallie's head just underneath, and thence to her ever busy hands, which held a pale blue silk tie--a tie that was growing in length with the utmost rapidity, for Lallie knitted at express speed, only pausing every now and then to turn a page of her book.Tony felt the strongest desire to talk, and was quite unreasonably irritated at his guest's complete absorption, which gave him neither lead nor excuse.The wood fire crackled cheerfully--Lallie had begged some logs from Ford--and Lallie's harp in the corner caught the ruddy gleams on strings and gilded frame.Tony looked round the large, handsome room with a new interest. Hitherto he had not considered it as any concern of his. It was Miss Foster's domain, to be entered by him only on such occasions as she gave tea to visiting parents. To be sure he had bought all the furniture for it, and each piece, in itself, was good and possessed of qualities that redeemed it from the commonplace. There was one really beautiful Hepplewhite cabinet, a genuine Sheraton desk and bookcase, and some fine old china; but Lallie was right, the room was stiff, bare, wholly lacking in charm. Not to-night; it seemed neither bare nor stiff to-night. It was full of an atmosphere subtler and sweeter even than that produced by the comfortable clouds of tobacco smoke that floated between Tony Bevan and the girl leaning against his knees. To-night the room radiated a delicious atmosphere of home, and all because a slip of a girl had disarranged the furniture and sat there at his feet looking the very spirit of the domestic hearth.In grumpy moments, Tony was apt to declare that in all his big house no corner seemed really to belong to him except the writing-table in his study. Among the many admirable qualities of Miss Foster, she did not possess the power of making a man feel comfortable and at his ease in her society. As a rule he was ready enough to admit that this was, perhaps, an additional reason why she filled her post so efficiently. The greatest gossip in Hamchester could not conjecture any matrimonial complication with Miss Foster, and Tony rejoiced in the serene security engendered by this knowledge. Nevertheless, to-night he was conscious of very distinct enjoyment of, and interest in, his own drawing-room.How still it was!No sound save the little click of Lallie's needles as she changed them at the end of a row, and the soft sizzle of the wood fire. Why was she--gregarious, garrulous Lallie--so silent? If only she had insisted on talking he could have laid aside those tiresome proses with a sigh as to the impossibility of work with such a chatterbox in the room. But she was quiet as any mouse, and Tony wanted to talk himself."Can you see all right?" he asked at last."Perfectly, thank you," and she never turned her head.Silence again, while Tony smoked and made no attempt to correct papers. Instead, he found himself admiring the straightness of Lallie's parting, and marvelling at the slenderness of her little neck that showed never a bone.Presently he reflected that it was hardly hospitable to condemn a young and lively girl to complete silence during her first evening hi his house.Hospitable! It was positively churlish.Tony pushed the papers on the table a little farther away from him. It was his plain duty to talk to Lallie."What's that you're knitting?" he asked sociably."A tie for Mr. Cripps. Isn't it a pretty colour? Have you finished? How quick you've been! I thought you'd be hours and hours.""A tie for Cripps!" Tony repeated in tones that betrayed disapproval. "Why in the world should you make a tie for Cripps? You never saw him till this morning.""Ah, but we made great friends in a very little time," Lallie explained eagerly; "and the old string he was wearing was a terrible show. He can knit ties himself, you know, the clever boy, but he always gives away the ones he knits; and the poor chap's awfully badly off for ties just now. He told me so. And I said I'd make him one for Sundays and high days. I shall probably finish it to-morrow, and he can have it by Monday morning.""Cripps is a humbug. I'm perfectly sure he has plenty of ties. Don't you be imposed upon, Lallie; don't you give him anything of the kind."She turned right round and clasped her bare arms round Tony's knees to balance herself."Ah, Tony, now," she expostulated, "I must give the boy his little tie that I promised, and him so dull in quarantine and all. Sure a nice pale blue tie will cheer him up and make him think more of himself. A tie to a boy is like a new hat to a girl. There's nothing cheers me up like a new hat when I'm down in the dumps. Now what article of attire most cheers you, Tony?""I rather like ties," Tony answered, with cold detachment."Then I'll make dozens for you while I'm here," and Lallie set her chin on her clasped hands and looked up at Tony with eyes whose expression reminded him of Val's. "I'll make ties for you and every dear boy in this house, and for Paunch too. By the way, it's a shame to call that man Paunch. He's not fat or bow-windowy. However did he come by such a name?""He's not fat now," Tony said judicially, "but he'll be fat long before he's my age unl