the mouldering wainscot, and written to the Psychical Research, how she had heard her own sad name in corners cried, and it couldn't have been the cat, or she would have caught the shrieking mouse. Oh, there were a hundred things she might have done, before she sat down and said, 'He cometh not,' But I have had a period of enforced idleness. If I had set a trap for the mouse, the doctor would have told me not to exert myself so much.' I used to play Halma with Chesterford, only I always beat him; and then nobody ever cried my name in sad corners, that I remember; it would have been quite interesting."
Jack laughed.
"What a miserable story, Dodo," he said. "I always said—you had none of the domestic virtues, and I am right, it seems."
"Oh, it isn't that," said Dodo, "but I happen to have a brain as well, and if I don't use it, it decays, and when it decays, it breeds maggots. I've got a big maggot in my head now, and that is, that the ineffable joys of maternity are much exaggerated. Don't look shocked, Geraldine. I know it's a maggot, and simply means that I haven't personally experienced them, but the maggot says, 'You are a woman, and if you don't experience them, either they don't exist, or you are abnormal.' Well, the maggot lies, I know it, I believe they do exist, and I am sure I am not abnormal. Ah, this is unprofitable, isn't it. You two have come to drive the maggot out."
Mrs. Vivian felt a sudden impulse of anger, which melted into pity.
"Poor Dodo," she said, "leave the maggot alone, and he will die of inanition. At present give me some more tea. This really is very good tea, and you drink it the proper way, without milk or sugar, and with a little slice of lemon."
"Tea is such a middle-aged thing any other way," said Dodo, pouring out another cup. "I feel like an old woman in a workhouse if I put milk and sugar in it. Besides, you should only drink tea at tea. It produces the same effect as tobacco, a slight soothing of the nerves. One doesn't want to be soothed at breakfast, otherwise the tedious things we all have to do in the morning are impossible. Chesterford has a passion for the morning. He quoted something the other day about the divine morning. It isn't divine, it is necessary; at least you can't get to the evening without a morning, in this imperfect world. Now if it had only been 'the evening and the evening were the first day,' what a difference it would have made."
Mrs. Vivian laughed.
"You always bring up the heavy artillery to defend a small position, Dodo," she said. "Keep your great guns for great occasions."
"Oh, I always use big guns," said Jack. "They do the work quicker. Besides, you never can tell that the small position is not the key to the large. The baby, for instance, that Dodo thinks very extremely insignificant now, may be horribly important in twenty years."
"Yes, I daresay Chesterford and I will quarrel about him," said Dodo. "Supposing he falls in love with a curate's daughter, Chesterford will say something about love in a cottage, and I shall want him to marry a duke's daughter, and I shall get my way, and everybody concerned will be extremely glad afterwards."
"Poor baby," said Mrs. Vivian, "you little think what a worldly mother you have."
"Oh, I know I am worldly," said Dodo. "I don't deny it for a moment. Jack and I had it out before my marriage. But I believe I am capable of an unworldly action now and then. Why, I should wish Maud to marry a curate very much. She would do her part admirably, and no one could say it was a worldly fate. But I like giving everybody their chance. That is why I have Maud to stay with me, and let her get a good look at idle worldly people like Jack. After a girl has seen every sort, I wish her to choose, and I am unworldly enough to applaud her choice, if it is unworldly; only I shouldn't do it myself. I have no ideal; it was left out."
Jack was conscious of a keen resentment at Dodo's words. He had accepted her decision, but he didn't like to have it flaunted before him in Dodo's light voice and careless words. He made an uneasy movement in his chair. Dodo saw it.
"Ah, Jack, I have offended you," she said; "it was stupid of me. But I have been so silent and lonely all these days, that it is such a relief to let my tongue wag at all, whatever it says. Ah, here's Chesterford. What an age you have been! Here am I consoling myself as best I can. Isn't it nice to have Jack again?"
Chesterford saw the fresh light in her eyes, and the fresh vivaciousness in her speech, and he was so unfeignedly glad to see her more herself again, that no thought of jealousy entered his heart. He thought without bitterness, "How glad she must be to have her friends about her again! She looks better already. Decidedly I am a stupid old fellow, but I think Dodo loves me a little."
He shook hands with Jack, and beamed delightedly on Dodo.
"Jack, it is good of you to come so soon," he said; "Dodo has missed you dreadfully. Have you seen the boy? Dodo, may I have him down?"
"Oh, he's been down," said she, "and has only just gone up again. He's rather fractious to-day. I daresay it's teeth. It's nothing to bother about; he's as well as possible."
Lord Chesterford looked disappointed, but ac-quiesced.
"I should like Jack to see him all the same," he remarked. "May he come up to the nursery?"
"Oh, Jack doesn't care about babies," said Dodo, "even when they belong to you and me. Do you, Jack? I assure you it won't amuse you a bit."
"I can't go away without seeing the baby," said Jack, "so I think I'll go with Chesterford, and then I must be off. Good-bye, Dodo. Get well quickly. May I come and see you to-morrow?"
"I wish Chesterford wouldn't take Jack off in that way," said Dodo rather querulously, as they left the room. "Jack came to see me, and I wanted to talk more to him—I'm very fond of Jack. If he wasn't so fearfully lazy, he'd make no end of a splash. But he prefers talking to his friends to talking to a lot of Irish members. I wonder why he came after he said he wouldn't. Jack usually has good reasons."
Dodo lay back in her chair and reflected.
"You really are the most unnatural mother," said Mrs. Vivian, with a laugh. "I am glad Mr. Broxton went with your husband, or he would have been disappointed, I think."
Dodo looked a little anxious.
"He wasn't vexed, was he?" she asked. "I hate vexing people, especially Chesterford. But he really is ridiculous about the baby. It is absurd to suppose it is interesting yet."
"I don't suppose he would call it interesting," said Mrs. Vivian. "But you know there are other things beside that."
Dodo grew a trifle impatient.
"Ah, that's a twice-told tale," she said. "I consider I have done my duty admirably, but just now I confess I am pining for a little amusement. I have been awfully dull. You know one can't exist on pure love."
Mrs. Vivian rose to go.
"Well, I must be off," she said. "Good-night, Dodo; and remember this, if ever anything occurs on which you want advice or counsel, come to me for it. You know I have been through all this; and—and remember Lord Chesterford loves you very deeply."
Dodo looked up inquiringly.
"Yes, of course, I know that," she said, "and we get on magnificently together. In any case I should always ask you for advice. You know I used to be rather afraid of you."
Mrs. Vivian stood looking out of the window. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"Ah, my dear, don't be afraid
