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difficulty about reconstructing it on the same lines for another

winter session. It so happened that most of the women of the party,



and two or three of the men, would not be available on this

occasion, but Reggie had laid his plans well ahead and booked plenty



of "fresh blood" for the departure. It would be, if any thing,

rather a larger party than before.



"I'm so sorry I can't join this winter," said Reggie's sister-in-

law, "but we must go to our cousins in Ireland; we've put them off



so often. What a shame! You'll have none of the same women this

time."



"Excepting Mrs. Pentherby," said Reggie, demurely.

"Mrs. Pentherby! SURELY, Reggie, you're not going to be so idiotic



as to have that woman again! She'll set all the women's backs up

just as she did this time. What IS this mysterious hold she's go



over you?"

"She's invaluable," said Reggie; "she's my official quarreller."



"Your--what did you say?" gasped his sister-in-law.

"I introduced her into the house-party for the express purpose of



concentrating the feuds and quarrelling that would otherwise have

broken out in all directions among the womenkind. I didn't need the



advice and warning of sundry friends to foresee that we shouldn't

get through six months of close companionship without a certain



amount of pecking and sparring, so I thought the best thing was to

localise and sterilise it in one process. Of course, I made it well



worth the lady's while, and as she didn't know any of you from Adam,

and you don't even know her real name, she didn't mind getting



herself disliked in a useful cause."

"You mean to say she was in the know all the time?"



"Of course she was, and so were one or two of the men, so she was

able to have a good laugh with us behind the scenes when she'd done



anything particularly outrageous. And she really enjoyed herself.

You see, she's in the position of poor relation in a rather



pugnacious family, and her life has been largely spent in smoothing

over other people's quarrels. You can imagine the welcomerelief of



being able to go about saying and doing perfectly exasperating

things to a whole houseful of women--and all in the cause of peace."



"I think you are the most odious person in the whole world," said

Reggie's sister-in-law. Which was not strictly true; more than



anybody, more than ever she disliked Mrs. Pentherby. It was

impossible to calculate how many quarrels that woman had done her



out of.

MARK



Augustus Mellowkent was a novelist with a future; that is to say, a

limited but increasing number of people read his books, and there



seemed good reason to suppose that if he steadily continued to turn

out novels year by year a progressively increasing circle of readers



would acquire the Mellowkent habit, and demand his works from the

libraries and bookstalls. At the instigation of his publisher he



had discarded the baptismal Augustus and taken the front name of

Mark.



"Women like a name that suggests some one strong and silent, able

but unwilling to answer questions. Augustus merely suggests idle



splendour, but such a name as Mark Mellowkent, besides being

alliterative, conjures up a vision of some one strong and beautiful



and good, a sort of blend of Georges Carpentier and the Reverend

What's-his-name."



One morning in December Augustus sat in his writing-room, at work on

the third chapter of his eighth novel. He had described at some



length, for the benefit of those who could not imagine it, what a

rectory garden looks like in July; he was now engaged in describing



at greater length the feelings of a young girl, daughter of a long

line of rectors and archdeacons, when she discovers for the first



time that the postman is attractive.

"Their eyes met, for a brief moment, as he handed her two circulars






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