THE SINS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CHILDREN 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 TWO FRIENDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 
 ^934 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 6027.E97S6 1911 
 
 The sins of the children; a study in soci 
 
 3 1924 013 645 738 
 
a Cornell University 
 y Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3645738 
 
THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
THE SINS OF THE 
 CHILDREN 
 
 tA Study in Social Values 
 
 HORACE W. C. NEWTE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "calico JACk" "sPARROWs" 
 
 "the lonely lovers" etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 
 MCMXI 
 
THIS BOOK IS 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO THE 
 
 LIBRARY CENSORSHIP COMMITTEE 
 
 Copyright in the British Empire, 
 Mills &" Boon, Limited, London. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The Library Censorship Committee having entered the lists 
 to do or die in defence of the Shibboleths, it behoves the 
 obscure author, who essays to describe life in terms of the 
 truth that is in him, to walk warily. 
 
 In order to write conscientiously, and at the same time 
 not offend Powers that can hinder or speed his progress, the 
 present writer has elected to describe a phase of life in 
 which any violation of sexual moraUty is so unusual that 
 even to mention it would be in the nature of a brutal 
 incongruity. He ventures to hope the following story 
 will be appreciated by chance readers. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Part I 
 JEANNIE'S YOUTH 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. EARLY DAYS 
 
 II. DISCOVERIES 
 
 III. A " CRUET " NIGHT 
 
 IV. A CHANCE MEETING 
 V. GREAT EXPECTATIONS 
 
 VI. JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 
 VII. ONE OF MANY VISITS 
 VIII. LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 
 IX. NEW year's EVE 
 X. THE shepherd's CROOK 
 XI. BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 
 XII. 21 ELM GROVE, W. 
 
 XIII. TEA AT TITTERTON'S 
 
 XIV. THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 
 XV. " LARKSLEASE " . 
 
 XVI. JEANNIE DESPAIRS 
 
 XVII. JOE AND THE NIGHT . 
 
 XVIII. JOE AND THE CHILDREN 
 
 XIX. THE FORLORN HOPE 
 
 vii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 
 II 
 
 23 
 32 
 
 44 
 56 
 68 
 81 
 
 93 
 106 
 121 
 137 
 154 
 169 
 
 183 
 199 
 209 
 221 
 
 233 
 
VllI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 XX. job's last anecdote . 
 
 XXI. A STRANGE WOMAN 
 XXII. EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 
 
 fagB 
 243 
 
 258 
 
 268 
 
 Part II 
 
 JEANNIE'S MIDDLE AGE 
 
 XXIU. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE FATTED CALF 
 
 
 
 , 281 
 
 DISILLUSION 
 
 
 
 • 294 
 
 OLD ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 
 
 . 308 
 
 A SURPRISE 
 
 
 
 . 318 
 
 " PVRACANIHA " AGAIN 
 
 
 
 . 327 
 
 TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 
 
 
 
 . 339 
 
 REVELATION 
 
 
 
 . 353 
 
 PILGRIMAGE 
 
 
 
 . 363 
 
 THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 
 
 
 
 • 372 
 
 joe's LADY FRIEND 
 
 
 
 . 38S 
 
 THE SCENT OF THE MAY 
 
 
 
 . 40a 
 
THE 
 
 SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 PART I 
 
 JEANNIE'S YOUTH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 EARLY DAYS 
 
 Many years ago — ^thirty-four to be exact — those who daily 
 journeyed to town by the Great Western Railway from 
 a certain insignificant station one day saw the usual dismal 
 preparations being made for the erection of a pair of 
 villas upon a gracious patch of sward hard by the station. 
 
 It seemed but a short while before they were ready 
 for occupation with " To Let " scrawled in white upon 
 the windows, at the which those who had idly noticed 
 the various stages of construction made trite but true 
 remarks on the passage of time. 
 
 For weeks it seemed the houses would never let ; one 
 early summer day, however, local curiosity was let loose 
 at seeing furniture-vans disgorging their contents into 
 one of the two houses ; this operation was superintended 
 by a fresh-coloured, stoutish, middle-aged man ; he held 
 a bright-eyed, happy, little girl, whose frock was getting 
 too short for her, by the hand. 
 I 
 
2 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 As the station platforms commanded the back garden 
 of the new arrivals, the later of those who travelled down 
 at the close of the working day could, during the ensuing 
 summer months, observe their evening diversions. 
 
 When the train drew up at the station, a glimpse was 
 caught of the fresh-coloured man, a wan woman, a little 
 girl, a dog, and a servant in the kitchen, all enjoying some 
 measure of repose after the burden of the day ; directly, 
 however, the passengers were walking the platform, 
 and the train had steamed away, a sudden animation 
 possessed the family gathering. The middle-aged man 
 would excitedly throw a ball into the air before catching 
 it ; his wife would leave her chair and intently examine a 
 plant ; the servant would energetically handle an iron, 
 while the little girl would play about the garden, the dog 
 (his name was " Spot ") barking at her heels. 
 
 All too soon, the new people ripened into old inhabitants, 
 and with the passing of years the little girl grew surprisingly 
 taller, while her white-faced, fading mother was rarely 
 seen out of doors. 
 
 Then, to the grief of the little household, "Spot," the 
 dog, died of old age ; with many lamentations from 
 little Jeannie Pilcher, his mistress, he was buried in a 
 corner of the garden. 
 
 This was Jeannie's first sorrow ; its poignancy fastened 
 on her memory, effacing considerably recollections of 
 cloudless days. Soon, however, a grief came into her 
 life which made what she had believed an overwhelming 
 trouble to be of no moment. 
 
 Her mother passed away ; although Jeannie's eight 
 years did not enable her to appreciate duly her loss, she 
 suffered keenly by reason of the deep and abiding distress 
 her father knew. 
 
 The home by the great iron way was given up and 
 the little establishment moved into a small villa at Putney 
 which belonged to the bereaved husband, where little 
 Jeannie, with the assistance of a series of more or less 
 
EARLY DAYS 3 
 
 incompetent " working-housekeepers," was brought up 
 by her father. 
 
 It was a long stretch from Putney to Hammersmith 
 where the breadwinner took train to his work at Padding- 
 ton ; and tUl the bridge was " freed," the penny a day 
 he paid for tolls was something of a consideration ; but as 
 Pilcher saved house rent, and when his viUa was let he 
 rarely got his rent (shady occupiers reading their landlord 
 at a glance), he reckoned he was well in pocket by living 
 such a long distance from his station. 
 
 His Christian name was Joseph, but Jeannie had never 
 heard him addressed or spoken of by his friends as other 
 than "Joe"; by tradesmen and menials as " Mr. Joe." 
 To have had her daddie identified with Joseph would have 
 surprised her, while if he had been spoken of as Mr. Pilcher 
 she would have wondered who was meant. 
 
 "Joe" earned a hundred and seventy pounds a year 
 as the chief of a department in the Great Western Railway 
 at Paddington : sundry concessions in the way of a season 
 ticket at a much reduced rate, and cheap coals and butter 
 (these last being only granted to married men) were 
 equivalent to an addition of about fifteen pounds to his 
 yearly salary. 
 
 Also, the railway clerks ran a dining club where a solid 
 midday meal could be obtained for eightpence. 
 
 By the rigid avoidance of the excellent dining-club 
 beer, a self-denial shared by few of the members, he, 
 by eating well and cheaply, calculated he added a further 
 ten pounds to his income which, with what he saved in 
 rent by living in a house of his own, was augmented, so he 
 considered, to something approaching two hundred and 
 twenty pounds a year. 
 
 Although Cockney born and bred, Joe had an abiding 
 passion for fresh air. He loved his walk on the towpath 
 (then a very different place to what it is now) twice a 
 day in all weathers, and at all seasons of the year when 
 going to and from the station. 
 
4 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 On bad days in summer, and most days in winter, Joe 
 wore gaiters ; one of Jeannie's early recollections is of 
 lengthening days when it was light enough to walk along 
 the towpath and meet her father on his return from 
 work. 
 
 They kept a sharp look-out for each other, and when 
 she caught sight of his stuggy, gaitered figure rounding a 
 bend, she would wave her little arm, at which Joe would 
 run in her direction as fast as his wind and increasing 
 years would permit. 
 
 Joe's daily intercourse with nature had endowed him 
 with the notion that he was an infallible weather prophet : 
 he was hugely delighted when he was asked for a meteoro- 
 logical forecast, a weakness of which certain impecunious 
 acquaintances were prone to take advantage : Joe found 
 it hard to refuse a request for assistance on top of a desire 
 that he should foretell the weather. 
 
 Although, so far back as Jeannie can remember, her 
 father was always devoted to her, she recalls that, after 
 the loss of her mother, Joe's love and tenderness waxed 
 for his little girl. 
 
 When he was home, he hated her out of his sight ; if 
 he could help it, he would never suffer her to go out of 
 doors alone. 
 
 Should she fall asleep of an evening, she would wake 
 to find his protecting arm about her, whUe her supper 
 or some Uttle delicacy awaited her : should she call out 
 in the night, Joe, aU concern, was by her side in a moment. 
 
 His first grey hairs appeared after a rather sharp attack 
 of measles she caught at school. 
 
 Joe was indulgent as he was fond. 
 
 Jeannie had been brought up by her mother on a rather 
 strict diet of evangelical theological food, any frivolity 
 on Sundays in the nature of toys or playbooks being 
 strictly forbidden. 
 
 As time went on, Joe's orthodoxy waned. If it were a 
 very fine Sunday, Jeannie was not compelled to go to 
 
EARLY DAYS 5 
 
 church ; instead, she would accompany Joe on a walk. 
 Of an afternoon, if she somewhat furtively looked through 
 her picture-books, Joe invariably seemed asleep should 
 he be in the room, or if he were not, and came in and 
 discovered her, it appeared his mind was too occupied 
 with other things to notice what she was at. 
 
 It is of Saturday afternoons that Jeannie has 
 particularly happy memories. In those far-off days 
 there were actually fish to be caught in the river between 
 Hammersmith and Putney ; on most Saturday afternoons, 
 when fishing was in season, a long line of anglers would be 
 seen in the neighbourhood of the latter place of which 
 Joe, invariably accompanied by Jeannie, who carried the 
 bait can, was a patient unit. 
 
 For many weeks he caught scarcely anything, although 
 he studied numerous fishing manuals and journals in order 
 to obtain hints of Likely baits ; when no sport was to be 
 had, Jeannie would laughingly teU her father how he had 
 caught all the fish. 
 
 Joe, however, would console himself by noting how his 
 fellow-anglers were in no better case than himself ; their 
 Ul-luck did not seem to affect adversely their thirst, boys 
 being continually dispatched to the- nearest public-house 
 for cans of beer or " shandygaff." 
 
 If it be true that every dog has his day, Joe was no 
 exception. One afternoon, to the scarcely veiled envy 
 of the other fishermen, he caught three fine flounders in 
 quick succession, when Jeannie, for all her tender years, 
 was touched by her father's self-conscious pride which 
 he vainly tried to suppress. 
 
 He sent Jeannie to the nearest hedge for twigs ; when 
 these were obtained, with hands trembling with excite- 
 ment, he fastened the fish together by passing the wood 
 through their gills, before feverishly resuming fishing. 
 
 For the rest of the day luck, having once visited him, was 
 coy, but soon after six, Joe and Jeannie, the former proudly 
 displaying his captures, might have been seen making a 
 
6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 triumphant progress along the long line of anglers, 
 ostensibly to discover what luck they had had. 
 
 It was on this occasion that Jeannie, perhaps for the first 
 time in her life, saw her father really angry. 
 
 A narrow backwater ran parallel to the river, and just 
 here it separated " Barn Elms," now Ranelagh, from the 
 ground that ascended sharply to the towpath. Presently 
 the backwater broadened and deepened before turning 
 sharply to the right, and running swiftly (when the tide was 
 going out) under a beam-supported, wooden bridge into 
 the Thames. 
 
 This evening, certain men had dammed this backwater ; 
 as the tide went down, they managed to entrap a surprising 
 quantity of fish, which sight excited Joe's ire. He trembled 
 with anger, while his voice shook with indignation. 
 
 "Most unsportsmanlike. Really most unsportsman- 
 like," he kept on repeating, not only while they walked 
 home, but for the best part of the evening. 
 
 His wrath was not allayed until the three flounders were 
 served up piping hot for supper. 
 
 As Jeannie grew older, Joe tried to incline her mind in 
 the direction of hobbies that had an educative bias. 
 
 To this end, John's Flowers of the Field was pur- 
 chased and closely studied by " Joe " who, it must be 
 confessed, had not the remotest approach to a scientific 
 mind ; indeed, when it came to a question of discovering 
 the specimens they found in their rambles, Jeannie was 
 far sharper in the counting of the varying number of 
 stamens and pistils by which their finds were identified. 
 
 When Jeannie thinks of these days, there comes to her 
 mind a picture of Joe's honest face beaming with happiness, 
 and with drops of perspiration on his forehead from carry- 
 ing the tea-things, as he tramped at her side either on 
 Barnes or Wimbledon Commons, or by the river, all places 
 which differ vastly from their bhghted picturesqueness 
 of to-day. 
 
 Although wild flowers were scarce on Wimbledon 
 
EARLY DAYS 7 
 
 Common, there was the great windmill, the fascinating 
 rifle butts and iron running deer, and sometimes red- 
 coated soldiers. 
 
 After all said and done, it was the towpath by the Thames, 
 particularly at high tide, which Jeannie loved most. 
 
 Here, on the riverside, the thick growth of willow bushes 
 made perpetual wind music, and if she tired of watching 
 the passing tugs and steamers, the latter with their bands 
 playing popular melodies, there was always the steep 
 declivity to descend, with Joe's trusty assistance, to the 
 stream-like backwater which ran parallel to the river. 
 
 Here, in due season, was a profusion of meadowsweet, 
 wild parsley, ragged-robin, and sometimes even strings of 
 gUded honeysuckle ; in quiet places, the water was mantled 
 with duckweed, while arrowhead shot up above the 
 surface of the stream. 
 
 But as every rose has its thorn, so even this delightful 
 walk had one decided drawback which was furnished by 
 the soap works at Hammersmith ; this, particularly when 
 the wind was blowing from the west, insistently and 
 offensively reminded Joe and Jeannie of its existence. 
 
 When approaching and passing this place, father and 
 daughter loftily ignored it ; so far as it was possible, they 
 kept their eyes on the squat picturesqueness of the 
 " Crabtree " on the farther side of the river. 
 
 Although the soap works interrupted the backwater, 
 this was continued for some distance beyond ; later, when 
 the study of " Pond Life " was added to Botany, this 
 stretch of water, teeming with likely specimens, was 
 frequently haunted by Joe and Jeannie, armed with nets 
 and bait cans. 
 
 Here, little boys filled jam bottles with small, voracious 
 fish, caught with a worm and a piece of cotton. They 
 called their quarry " tiddlers," and although " Joe," 
 proud of his new-found lore, repeatedly assured the urchins 
 they were sticklebats, he could not disabuse their mind of 
 their original impression. 
 
8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 He would argue at length when, more likely than 
 not, he would be interrupted by an expectant angler re- 
 marking : 
 
 " Cheese it, guv'nor ; I've got a bite." 
 
 But although they disregarded Joe's admonitions, they 
 were only too glad to avail themselves of his services should 
 they chance to catch an eft, a creature they were shy of 
 handling. 
 
 Vivid memories of boat-race days are associated with 
 Jeannie's recollections of the ever-changing river. 
 
 Before and on the great day, Joe developed into a 
 rowing expert ; he would take every opportunity of 
 watching the crews practise, and would have counted it 
 a grievous deprivation if, by any mischance, he had missed 
 the race. When the boats finally passed with the tugs 
 and steamers in attendance, he would particularly cheer 
 Oxford, doubtless because that town was served by the 
 railway for which he worked. 
 
 Also, she recalls specimen-hunting excursions to the 
 ponds on Barnes Common ; one in particular when, despite 
 her warnings, Joe persisted in mistaking a " boatman " 
 for a water-spider, and got sharply stung for his obstinacy ; 
 a certain pond near the railway where an otherwise rare 
 water-snaU was found in considerable quantities, at the 
 which Joe was so elated at their profusion that he carried 
 home as many as father and daughter could carry, which 
 had the result of occasioning open mutiny on the part of 
 the then working-housekeeper. 
 
 When Jeannie's mind inclines to winter recollections, 
 she has memories of long evenings spent before the fire, 
 when Joe read aloud ; failing that, they would both stare 
 reflectively at the red-hot coals and listen to the ticking 
 of the solemn, brass-faced, grandfather clock, which Joe 
 methodically wound up on Sunday mornings immediately 
 after breakfast. 
 
 Sometimes old friends of her father's would look in and 
 stay to supper. 
 
EARLY DAYS 9 
 
 One of these was a Mr. Coop, a rather coarse-looking, 
 kindly man, who was seemingly bursting with vulgar 
 laughter. He had not much to say for himself but, on 
 the least provocation, or none at all, he would suddenly 
 and explosively let off hilarious steam. He was by way 
 of being weU-to-do, being in business for himself as a 
 manufacturer of invalid furniture ; he had a great affection 
 for Jeannie, who could not help liking him ; he always 
 brought her sweets. 
 
 On these occasions, they would play round games of 
 cards till Jeannie went to bed, after which the two friends, 
 if no one else had looked in, would play cribbage. 
 
 Now and again, Joe would venture on one of his favourite 
 anecdotes, which Jeannie very soon had by heart ; indeed, 
 when her father, as not infrequently happened, lost his 
 way and seemed in danger of forgetting the point, his 
 daughter would give him a cue that would enable the 
 story-teller to reach safely the journey's end. 
 
 But if Joe were not much of a hand at anecdotes, there 
 was one thing he could do to perfection, this — keep an 
 assembly of chUdren in constant laughter. 
 
 He loved Jeannie to invite her school friends to the house 
 when, with inimitable drollery, and a seemingly unlimited 
 fund of comic resource, he would go down on all fours 
 and imitate various animals to the life. 
 
 One more recollection, and the tale of Jeannie's memories 
 is completed, so far as the purposes of this story are 
 concerned. 
 
 It was spring-time, and she was immensely interested 
 in the doings of a thrush family which nested in a willow 
 by her favourite backwater. 
 
 She had often gone to watch the hen thrush sitting 
 on her blue eggs, and had clapped her hands with delight 
 when five nestlings persistently opened their flaming 
 yeUow bills for food. 
 
 It amused her immensely to see how the father and 
 mother took turn and turn about in fetching worms, and 
 
lo THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 when the hen was away her mate would solemnly mount 
 guard on the edge of the nest. 
 
 There came a Sunday morning, however, when the 
 youngsters had learned to fly ; despite the cries of alarm 
 raised by their anxious parents, they were intent on 
 leaving the nest, at which Jeannie, who had brought 
 her father to see how her friends were getting on, was 
 greatly diverted by the older birds' distress. 
 
 " Isn't it funny, Joe ? " asked Jeannie of her father, 
 whom she frequently called by his Christian name. 
 
 " D'ye think so ? " 
 
 " Don't you ? " 
 
 " I can't say I do. You see, dear, you're not old 
 enough to understand, but, after all the trouble and care 
 those birds have taken with their young, it seems a bit 
 ungrateful for the little ones to be off without so much as 
 a thought for those to whom they owe so much." 
 
 Jeannie stared at her father in wide-eyed surprise, 
 first at differing from her on the matter, and secondly at the 
 unusual length of his remarks, he being ordinarily a man 
 of few words. 
 
 " But there I It's the way of the world," he sighed. 
 
 " Joe ! " 
 
 " One of these days when you grow up, there'll be a man 
 who wants to marry you, and then you won't have a 
 thought for your poor old father." 
 
 Jeannie protested strongly that, whatever others 
 might do, she would never, never be guilty of such hard- 
 heartedness. 
 
 " I couldn't blame you, my dear, if you did," continued 
 Joe. " It's the way of the world." 
 
 Jeannie was ever so positive that her heart would always 
 cling to her loved father, but, for all her repeated assertions 
 of Ufelong attachment, Joe only shook his head and smiled 
 sadly. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 DISCOVERIES 
 
 One fine spring afternoon, Jeannie, now nearer seventeen 
 than sixteen, walked from school under romantic circum- 
 stances with her dearest friend, Gertrude Stubbs. 
 
 They had twice reached Jeannie's home but, in the 
 manner of schoolgirls, they had for the same number of 
 times returned to where Gertrude lived, and now, followed 
 at a discreet distance by a tall, good-looking young fellow, 
 they were rather self-consciously proceeding in the direction 
 of " Laurel " ViUa, the name of Joe's house. 
 
 Until Jeannie was sixteen, she had attended a school of 
 no account in rapidly growing Putney, but when she reached 
 that age Joe, perhaps foolishly, but with the best intentions 
 in the world, sent his tail daughter to Clarence College, 
 " An Establishment for the Education of the Daughters 
 of Gentlemen," as it was grandiloquently termed by its 
 proprietor, situated in the Upper Richmond Road. Here, 
 Jeannie's looks (she was undeniably a winsome girl) and 
 her frank, unaffected manner made her many friends, of 
 whom more anon : one of these had great influence in 
 determining the course of her days. 
 
 " Is he still following ? " asked romantically pretty 
 Gertrude (her dark eyelcishes were long and curled), with 
 suppressed excitement, as the two girls passed the ripe 
 picturesqueness of Fairfax House, which then decorated 
 the High Street. 
 
 Jeannie half looked round and replied : 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 " I wonder if he means to speak to me to-day." 
 
12 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Shall I go, dear ? " suggested Jeannie. 
 
 "No, no: please, please don't," pleaded Gertrude, as 
 her grasp tightened on her friend's arm. " I don't know 
 what I should do if you did." 
 
 " But if you love each other, you simply must get 
 acquainted sooner or later," declared Jeannie, with the 
 romantic wisdom of sixteen years. 
 
 " I know, dear ; but— but " 
 
 " How long is it since he's been following you about ? " 
 
 "Three weeks, dearest. Mind, I only told you a very 
 great secret — you're the only girl I trust." As a matter 
 of fact, Jeannie was the fifth dear friend who had been 
 honoured with a similar confidence from Miss Stubbs. 
 
 " And you say he walks up and down outside your 
 house ? " 
 
 " For hours, dear. And he's so good-looking. And 
 yesterday, when I got home, a box of roses had come for me 
 by post." 
 
 " How lovely. I suppose he sent them ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Do you love him ? " asked Jeannie, after a moment's 
 thought. 
 
 " Who could help it, dear ? I can't do my lessons for 
 thinking of him ; and as for tea, I simply can't touch 
 bread and butter unless there's plenty of jam." 
 
 Jeannie envied her friend from the bottom of her heart. 
 
 One of the two considerable discoveries she had made in 
 the last two years had been the profound attraction which 
 certain of the opposite sex exercised for her. At first, she 
 had been frightened by this awakening, but use had made 
 her accustomed to its manifestations ; now that her friend 
 was confessedly dominated by that mysterious, and wholly 
 unknown, so far as she was concerned, obsession called 
 love, her mind was focused on the subject to the temporary 
 exclusion of the many things, mostly trivial, which ordinarily 
 interested her. 
 
 The fact of her friend being in love called attention to 
 
DISCOVERIES 13 
 
 her own loveless state, and with her impulsive disposition 
 she knew something akin to dismay at believing that no 
 tall, good-looking young male would ever look on her as 
 Gertrude was regarded by her unknown adorer. 
 
 Her extremity was short-lived. 
 
 In passing a plate-glass window of a recently opened 
 draper's shop, she caught sight of her reflection. 
 
 When she saw her tall, trim figure, which was already 
 gracefully developed, the cloud of curling fair hair which 
 descended her back like a golden cascade, her neat ankles, 
 and little feet, her spirits rose. 
 
 For the moment, she could hardly beheve that such a 
 personable young woman was indeed Jeannie Pilcher, and 
 if in the face of such evidence she were still disposed to 
 doubt her comeliness, she had only to recall, no difficult 
 matter, the ill-concealed admiration which was always 
 more or less expressed in the faces of the majority of the 
 men she encountered when out and about. 
 
 As if this were not enough to cheer her drooping spirits, 
 she remembered how that very morniug Joe had told her 
 she was the prettiest girl in Putney ; this reminded her 
 that her father would soon be home, and that he eagerly 
 looked forward to his Jeannie giving him his tea. 
 
 She took a precipitate leave of Gertrude ; for all that 
 person's scarcely convincing trepidations at being left by 
 herself, and with the interesting stranger but a few yards 
 away, she scampered in the direction of home, when a 
 glimpse of a clock in a shop told her she would just have 
 time to see everything was aU right before Joe's key would 
 be heard in the latch. 
 
 She was within a hundred yards of her gate when she 
 encountered two maiden ladies of her acquaintance ; 
 they were nearer forty than thirty, and both were dressed 
 exactly alike : they made as if they would speak to Jeannie, 
 who stopped and said : 
 
 " How are you ? Can't stop a moment." 
 
 " We want you to come to tea on Saturday," said the 
 
14 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 elder of the two sisters. " We've some quite nice people 
 coming." 
 
 The " nice " was so emphasised that Jeannie looked at 
 the speaker with inquiring eyes. 
 
 " People it would be well for you to know, dear," went 
 on Miss Hitch. " One of them is connected on one side 
 with the clergy, and on the other with a retired gentleman, 
 who has just missed being made a knight." 
 
 " So you see how really nice they are," put in the other 
 sister. 
 
 " I'll see what J — father's doing," hedged Jeannie, who, 
 to tell the truth, was rather bored by the spinsters' company. 
 " And thanks awfully. I must go now." 
 
 They would have delayed her with further descriptions 
 of the other nice people who were expected, but Jeannie 
 was too quick for them, and was some distance away before 
 they reaUsed she had gone. 
 
 If Jeannie had had more leisure just then, this partiality 
 of the sisters for basking ia the company of their 
 betters (the Miss Hitches' father had been a small 
 printer) would have awakened a train of thought which 
 would have been connected with the other discovery she 
 had made at the " Establishment for the Education of 
 the Daughters of Gentlemen," in the Upper Richmond 
 Road ; but there was Joe's toast to be made, and in a way 
 of which she had the secret ; also, her hat had to be taken 
 off, and the effect of a new ribbon to be tried in her hair 
 for her father's approval — things which demanded her whole 
 attention. 
 
 Joe welcomed her with his customary kiss, which was 
 invariably followed, as now, by a long look of mingled 
 admiration and affection. He was tired and hungry from 
 his work and his walk, but before sitting down to tea, toast, 
 and home-made cake, prepared by Jeannie's pretty fingers, he 
 insisted on inquiring after her well-being since the morning. 
 
 They had hardly sat down to the simple meal when a 
 propitiatory knock was heard at the front door. 
 
DISCOVERIES 15 
 
 " Who can that be ? " Joe's face seemed to ask : he 
 could not speak, his mouth being full of buttered toast. 
 
 " Old Rabbitt. Who else ever knocks like that ? " 
 replied Jeannie. 
 
 " Come about the clock ! " exclaimed Joe, when his 
 mouth was free of food. 
 
 " And, as usual, at tea-time," rejoined Jeannie. 
 
 By this time. Rose, the general servant, had answered 
 the door (working-housekeepers had long since been dis- 
 carded as extravagant and incompetent), but, seeing who 
 the caller was, she did not trouble to annoxmce him, but 
 left him to shift for himself. 
 
 Very soon, the door was gently opened, and a fragile old 
 man, who suffered from sore eyes, stood in the doorway with 
 the tips of his fingers pressed together before his meagre 
 body, which was inclined slightly forward. 
 
 " My duty to you, miss : my duty to you, sir," he 
 began, with old-fashioned courtesy. " I thought as I 
 was passing I would take the liberty of calling " (here 
 he nervously coughed) " to see how the clock was pro- 
 gressing." 
 
 " Good evening," said Jeannie and Joe together, but 
 with a greater and lesser inflection of welcome respectively 
 in their voices : Jeannie hated to see her father's boundless 
 good-nature taken advantage of. 
 
 " I venture to take an interest in any clock which I may 
 happen to have repaired," declared Mr. Rabbitt. " And 
 if you would give permission for the young person in 
 the kitchen to give me a candle, I will see if anything 
 is amiss with the works." 
 
 " Have some tea," said Joe genially. 
 
 " I — I think not, sir ; thank you kindly all the same," 
 faltered Mr. Rabbitt, as his eyes sought Jeannie. 
 
 For her part, she tried to harden her heart, but when 
 she caught sight of the clockmender's almost transparent 
 fingers, she relented, and said : 
 
 " You must have some tea." 
 
1 6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 ' Thank you, miss, but- 
 
 " I wdsh it," she declared, with a charming imperiousness 
 which was irresistible, and particularly to a hungry old man. 
 
 Mr. Rabbitt took a seat at the table and wanted very 
 little pressing to make a substantial meal. He only 
 spoke when addressed, and then carefully picked his words^ 
 always preferring fine ones to those of everyday use. 
 
 Rabbitt's simple life was not devoid of pathos. For the 
 best part of forty years he had worked for a clockmaker 
 at Hammersmith until the death of his master had thrown 
 him on the world. Too old to secure regular employment, 
 he now supported a pathetically delicate-looking wife and a 
 large family on what he could pick up as a jobbing watch 
 and clock mender. 
 
 A large proportion of the cake he appeared to consume 
 was surreptitiously conveyed to his pocket for the benefit 
 of those at home. 
 
 When tea was over, Joe lit his pipe, whUe Mr. Rabbitt, 
 having been provided with a lighted candle, mounted 
 a chair by the tail grandfather, and after removing the 
 top, assiduously proceeded to drop grease over the works. 
 
 That evening, Jeannie was unsettled ; she should have 
 practised the piano and her violin, on both of which 
 instruments she had, to her father's iU-concealed pride, 
 attained some proficiency, but, being unable to concentrate 
 her mind on music, she roamed from room to room when, 
 for all her unstabUity, the reflection she occasionally 
 caught of herself in a looking-glass was that of a Hght- 
 hearted and perfectly happy young woman. 
 
 Presently, she was joined by Joe, who said : 
 
 " Isn't it your violin-lesson to-morrow, dear ? " 
 
 " Mr. Styles has put me off tUl Thursday." 
 
 " Then you're free. Good ! " 
 
 "Why, Joe?" 
 
 " I've asked three friends from the office down for the 
 evening, and I naturally want them to see you." 
 
 " Joe ! " laughed Jeannie protestingly, while she fell 
 
DISCOVERIES 17 
 
 to wondering what the three men would prove to be 
 Hke. 
 
 " It's Mr. Ferrars and Mr. Bristow and Mr. Mew. I'm 
 their ' Chief,' and although no entertaining of each other 
 at each other's houses ever goes on, I thought I'd ask 
 'em down." 
 
 " Very well, Joe." 
 
 " I — I have to be a little firm with them sometimes. I 
 don't want them to think I come the ' Chief ' too much 
 over them." 
 
 " Quite so, Joe," remarked Jeannie, who, for the life of 
 her, could not imagine her father domineering over any one. 
 " What time will they be here ? " 
 
 " The usual. And I thought we'd have a bit of some- 
 thing to eat about nine." 
 
 " Then it's a ' cruet ' night ! " 
 
 " That's so, Jeannie." 
 
 A " cruet " night was an occcision such as a birthday 
 festival, or the entertaining of friends, when a magnificent, 
 old, Sheffield-plated cruet, which had belonged to Jeannie's 
 mother, was produced from the cupboard where it was 
 carefully put away, to decorate the table with its dignified 
 presence. 
 
 " I'll see everything's all right," declared Jeannie, who 
 was not a little proud of her competence in such matters. 
 
 " Can't Rose ? I want them to see as much of you 
 as possible." 
 
 She looked at him in some surprise. 
 
 " It isn't every day they see a girl like my Jeannie," he 
 continued. 
 
 " You mean that, Joe ? " she asked, after a few moments' 
 silence. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I mean it ? " he asked, in blank astonisk- 
 ment. Then, as she did not speak, he went on : " I'm 
 very, very fond of my little sweetheart. And it's reaUy 
 the reason I asked them down. I wanted the men I've 
 worked with for so many years to see what my home is 
 
1 8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 like — and that means you. Then, perhaps, they'll guess 
 something of what you are to me." 
 
 " Is it — is it so very much, Joe ? " Jeannie ventured 
 to ask. 
 
 He did not appear to hear her, as he was apparently 
 lost in thought : she was about to repeat her question, 
 when he said : 
 
 " You're all I have. You've blessed my life. May God 
 love you and keep you always." 
 
 She did not reply, being touched (so far as sixteen years 
 can be move^) by the depths of love which inspired his 
 words, the quite beautiful expression on his homely 
 features. 
 
 She did not contemplate this last for long, as he some- 
 what precipitately left the room, blowing his nose as he 
 went, ostensibly to enjoy what he called a " breather " 
 which he usually took about this time ; this consisted 
 of standing just outside the front door and inhaling for 
 some minutes great draughts of air. 
 
 It was nearer eight than seven when Mr. Rabbitt, 
 having dripped the best part of the candle into the clock- 
 works, got down from the chair on which he had been 
 standing, put back the top of the venerable grandfather, 
 and after listening attentively to the tick of the pendulum, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " I think it's 'ealthy now, sir." 
 
 " Wasn't it before ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Scarcely what it should be, miss. Ahem ! One of 
 the weights — ahem — dragged more than it should. But 
 I've remedied that, miss." 
 
 " How much ? " asked Joe. 
 
 " Well, sir — ahem — I thought perhaps ninepence or one- 
 and-two — threepence. Ahem " faltered Mr. Rabbitt. 
 
 Joe, to Jeannie's annoyance, paid the larger amount, 
 and Mr. Rabbitt, after collecting his tools, again listened 
 attentively to the beat of the clock before deprecatingly 
 taking his departure. 
 
DISCOVERIES 19 
 
 " It's too bad," declared Jeannie, when alone with her 
 father. " It keeps perfect time. He's made pounds and 
 pounds out of that clock." 
 
 " Live and let Uve," rejoined Joe, whose face was 
 beaming with happiness. 
 
 " I hate to see you taken advantage of," cried Jeannie 
 passionately. " I know he's a poor old man and deserving 
 of pity, but let him impose on some one else." 
 
 Later, when Jeannie mentioned her meeting with the 
 two Miss Hitches, and their pressing invitation to meet 
 nice people, Joe laughingly said : 
 
 " All that would have amused old Timothy Hitch if he 
 were still alive. He was a red-hot radical printer and 
 thought Jack as good as his master." 
 
 Jeannie was wondering at the sisters' social aspirations 
 when Joe went on : 
 
 " They're not the only ones : not by a long chalk. 
 Scores and scores can think of nothing else but their 
 betters. As liliely as not you'U soon enough find this out 
 for yourself." 
 
 When Jeannie was in bed in her room overlooking the 
 garden, she could not sleep. 
 
 At first, thoughts of Gertrude Stubbs' romance persisted 
 in filling her mind ; after a time, she was occupied with 
 the fellow discovery to that she had made concerning 
 the interest that certain of the other sex possessed 
 for her, this, the arrant snobbery (she had not yet per- 
 ceived its ferocity) which permeated and dominated 
 the lives of most of the people with whom she came in 
 contact. 
 
 Beyond having the contempt for the working classes 
 peculiar to her position in the lower middle class, Jeannie 
 had scarcely given a thought to the station in life she 
 occupied : it was not until she attended the " Educational 
 Establishment for the Daughters of Gentlemen " that the 
 subject was forced upon her attention. There she had 
 speedily discovered how the sixty odd pupils were divided 
 
20 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 into a number of cliques, between each of which an 
 almost unbridgable social gulf yawned. 
 
 The conditions of membership of these various coteries 
 depended on the degrees of prosperity to which their 
 respective parents had attained, the girls whose fathers 
 kept horses having nothing to do with those whose domestic 
 circumstances were less pretentious. 
 
 Great store was set on the occupations of the various 
 fathers, those who employed labour, however insignificant 
 in quality, such as stock-jobbers, were on a different social 
 plane to those, such as Jeannie's father, who were in the 
 service of others. 
 
 There were other tests of demarcation, such as the 
 number of servants kept, the connection, however remote, 
 with a title, but the above mentioned were the most 
 insistent. 
 
 Jeannie would have come badly off for friends had it 
 not been for her sunny, unaffected disposition which good- 
 naturedly took the girls at their own estimation, and did 
 not make enemies, as so many of the other pupils did, by 
 loudly vaunting their own claims to social consideration. 
 
 In all the friendships she made, Jeannie soon found it 
 expedient to conceal, so far as it was possible, Joe's occupa- 
 tion, the humble circumstances in which she Uved. 
 
 It was not only the girls who contributed to Jeannie's 
 education with regard to the absurdly microscopical 
 distinctions which separate the strata composing the sum 
 of British middle-class life : pious Miss Frood, the principal 
 of the College, unwittingly had a hand in this enUghten- 
 ment. 
 
 A Christian gentlewoman, if ever there were one, she 
 more or less imconsciously paid tribute in the temple of 
 Rimmon. 
 
 Whenever a mother brought a prospective pupil to the 
 College, it was plain Miss Mason, " the daughter of dear 
 Colonel Mason," to whom she was invariably introduced : 
 should the parent catch sight of Jeannie's golden head. 
 
DISCOVERIES 21 
 
 and should she ask who was that rather pretty girl (no 
 woman ever Acknowledged Jeannie as very pretty), Miss 
 Frood would reply with a suggestion of disparagement 
 in her voice : 
 
 " Oh ! That's Jeannie Pilcher. I must really introduce 
 you to dear Mabel Baverstock, whose father has that fine 
 new house overlooking Barnes Common. And I must 
 also tell you she has a brother at the University of 
 Cambridge." 
 
 Unconsciously, Jeannie had been influenced by the 
 atmosphere of Clarence College. 
 
 In common with most other healthy young Britons of 
 her class, she was socially ambitious ; her inherent leanings 
 had been stimulated by the talk and ways of her school- 
 mates. 
 
 She made a point of cultivating the good opinion of the 
 influential members of the superior sets ; she was careful 
 with whom she made friends in her httle home circle, 
 subjecting candidates for this intimacy to a critical ex- 
 amination of their qualifications. 
 
 She was looking forward to having a " first and third " 
 Wednesday of her own. 
 
 Involuntarily, Joe was impelled within the orbit of her 
 social ambitions. Although she could not hide from 
 herself how remote was her father from the considerations 
 on which she and others set such store, she loved and 
 honoured him for his simple, homespun nature, so far as 
 it is possible for vaulting sixteen to appreciate such 
 qualities. 
 
 She perceived how easily he might be taken advantage 
 of by the unscrupulous, and as if to ease any qualms of 
 conscience she may have known at disturbing the placid 
 waters of his days, she told herself how her ambitions, 
 besides assisting to protect him from himself, would, by 
 enhancing her importance, enable her to be a source of 
 even greater pride to her lovable father than she already 
 was. 
 
22 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 It was to achieve her ends that she urged him to drop 
 the least presentable of his cronies. Coop was not dis- 
 carded. Joe was firm on this, and Jeannie did not press 
 the matter, as she had a genuine affection for the manu- 
 facturer of invalid furniture. 
 
 The possessor of the irrepressible laugh, being now 
 married, did not caU so frequently as had been his wont ; 
 when he came, he did not bring his wife, who was an 
 imposing-looking, reputedly shrewish woman. 
 
 In addition to vetoing some of her father's friends, 
 Jeannie insisted on his taking more care of his appearance, 
 he being exasperatingly careless in this respect to very neat 
 sixteen. 
 
 Jeannie bought his socks ; high collars, which latter 
 Joe suffered for her sake ; and ties ; she insisted on 
 arranging the latter with her deft fingers. 
 
 To-night, as her thoughts lingered upon her social 
 longings, she reflected how she was going to do her best 
 for herself — and, of course, Joe. 
 
 Somehow, when she thought of her father (who, of 
 course, was perfect, she rather suspiciously kept on telling 
 herself), she feared how it might not prove easy to enlist 
 him as an ally in her social campaign, he not having the 
 suspicion of a stomach for such an enterprise. 
 
 Although she despaired of obtaining his voluntary 
 assistance, she knew that, if she really made an effort, she 
 could move him as she would. 
 
 AU unconscious that, considering his honest nature, the 
 course she had so light-heartedly marked out for herself 
 would mean that she and her father must sooner or later 
 take diverging ways, she fell into the sweet, refreshing 
 sleep of healthy, happy sixteen. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A "CRUET" NIGHT 
 
 '' Did he speak to you ? " asked Jeaiinie of Gertrude, 
 when the two friends were alone on the following day. 
 
 At first, Gertrude was reluctant to reply, but when Jeannie 
 was about to speak of something else, the other said : 
 
 " We'd quite a long talk. I didn't get home till nearly 
 seven." 
 
 " What did they say at home ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I had to say I stayed to have tea with Miss 
 Frood." 
 
 " Gertrude ! " exclaimed Jeannie, surprised at the 
 other's audacity. 
 
 " I don't care ; I don't care at all ! " declared seventeen- 
 year-old Gertrude passionately. " When two people love 
 as we do, one has to do those things." 
 
 " Has he told you he loves you ? " 
 
 Gertrude did not reply for a moment ; when she did, 
 she said : 
 
 " He's asked me to marry him, dear : and very soon." 
 
 A pang of envy involuntarily shot through Jeannie's 
 heart. 
 
 " You'll have to tell your people, Gertrude," she said, 
 as soon as she could trust herself to speak, 
 
 " I'll do nothing of the kind." 
 
 " Dear ! " 
 
 " Eustace — his name is Eustace Scott — isn't it charm- 
 ing ? — doesn't want them to know anything at all about 
 it. It's all to be wonderful and romantic." 
 
 " Can he keep a wife ? " asked practical Jeannie, whose 
 
24 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 gradual initiation into the sordid realities of housekeeping 
 had convinced her of the necessity of the simplest home 
 having an economic foundation. 
 
 " He's money of his own. Not much, but enough to 
 make a beginning. He fell in love with me at first sight, 
 and he's not going to tell his people anything, either." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Eustace has tried so many things on their advice and 
 they've always turned out wrong. Now he's going to 
 rely entirely on himself." 
 
 " But be careful, dear ; you know one has " 
 
 But Gertrude would not suffer her friend's admonition ; 
 she cut her short by saying : 
 
 " Don't be silly. - One can't make a mistake when one's 
 in love." 
 
 " Don't you envy me ? " asked Gertrude of Jeannie, 
 as the latter was leaving her friend after being made to 
 give repeated assurances of secrecy. 
 
 Jeannie would not admit how she would almost have 
 given her pretty grey eyes to have been in Gertrude's 
 shoes ; the whole way home, she coveted her friend's 
 romantic good fortune from the bottom of her heart. 
 
 When Jeannie caught her first glimpse of Joe's friends 
 from the window of her room, to which she ascended on 
 reaching home, a glance told her that, judged from the 
 standpoint of Clarence College perceptions, two of them 
 did not come up to the scratch : the third had a personal 
 distinction which, for all his shabby clothes, was patent 
 to the eye. 
 
 When she, presently, came down, they were standing 
 at ease with their shoulders pressed forward by reason 
 of their hands being thrust deeply into their trouser pockets. 
 
 Their backs were towards her, but when, at Joe's in- 
 stigation, they turned to greet her, she was gratified by 
 the astonished admiration their faces expressed. 
 
 Without further ado she was introduced by her father, 
 who was obviously delighted at the effect of Jeannie's 
 
A "CRUET" NIGHT 25 
 
 charming presence upon his friends, first to Mr. Ferrars, 
 the man of some distinction ; then, to Mr. Bristow and 
 Mr. Mew, who, although physically unlike, had something 
 indefinable in common. 
 
 Ferrars, who was tallish, stout and clean shaven, was a 
 gentleman by birth, but no one knew anything of his 
 history until he had been given a position of some im- 
 portance in the railway by one of the directors. There 
 had been trouble with his accounts, which had led to his 
 being deposed from his high clerical estate, and given a 
 position subordinate to Joe in the latter's office. 
 
 He had courteous quiet ways, and treated Jeannie with 
 a deference that gladdened her heart and inclined her in 
 his favour. 
 
 Bristow was a shaggy, dark man, the colour of whose 
 hair enhanced the unhealthy pallor of his face, a conse- 
 quence of his sedentary occupation : when not obsessed 
 with clerical worries, he was by way of being genial ; he 
 was possessed of that force, or weakness, of character 
 which arises from an obstinate disposition. 
 
 Mr. Mew, who was irritatingly colourless, derived what 
 little individuality he could boast by slavishly imitating 
 the mannerisms, hobbies and idiosyncrasies of Mr. Bristow, 
 his colleague at the office. 
 
 Joe afterwards told Jeannie that Mr. Mew never dreamed 
 of taking snuff till Mr. Bristow set the example ; also, that 
 at the railway dining club, no matter what Mr, Mew's 
 predilections in the way of food, he would order and con- 
 sume the same dishes and drink as his friend. 
 
 It was rumoured that since Mr. Bristow had taken unto 
 himself a " young lady " Mr. Mew was moved to secxure a 
 similar complement to his Ufe. 
 
 A rather awkward silence followed the introduction, 
 it being evident that Jeannie had, vulgarly speaking, taken 
 their breath away, but Ferrars was the first to recover 
 himself, with the result that they were soon all talking 
 at once, with Jeannie as a centre of attraction. 
 
26 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Even when seated at tea, Jeannie could perceive that 
 the three guests were not yet reconciled to her unexpected 
 charm and comeliness ; disposed to be annoyed at this 
 slight upon her father, she went out of her way, with a 
 thousand adorable prettinesses, to show her loving regard 
 for him, conduct that further astonished the three railway 
 clerks. 
 
 While tea was in progress, a gentle knock was heard at 
 the front door, and Jeannie wondered if Mr. Rabbitt had 
 had the temerity to call again about the clock. 
 
 " It's little Lillie Styles," said Joe, as he rose from his 
 chair and went to the window. " I know the knock." 
 
 " Her father wants a weather forecast," said Jeannie, 
 to add to the others : " Father's a famous weather prophet. 
 All sorts of people send to know what's going to happen. 
 They say he's better than a barometer." 
 
 " We always ask for a forecast before our Great Western 
 excursion," declared Ferrars. " He was absolutely right 
 last year when we went to Oxford for the day.'' 
 
 Meantime, Rose had answered the door ; she now 
 entered with a note that was enclosed in a soiled envelope ; 
 this she handed to Joe. 
 
 " It's from my daughter's music - master, if you will 
 excuse me," explained Joe, with a suggestion of self- 
 conscious pride in his voice. " Didn't Lillie want to know 
 about the weather ? " he asked of Rose. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Sure ? " 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 Joe's face fell, while Jeannie talked volubly of anything 
 and everything. 
 
 " I'll send an answer in the morning," Joe informed 
 Rose, who promptly left the room. 
 
 Two minutes later, she returned, to say : 
 
 " Please, Mr. Styles wants to know what the weather 
 will be to-morrow." 
 
 " Eh ! " from a delighted Joe. 
 
A "CRUET" NIGHT 27 
 
 " She was told to ask, but forgot." 
 
 Joe went to the open window and attentively studied 
 the sky : then, he appeared -to think for some moments 
 before having a further look at the clouds that were being 
 coaxed across the sky by a westerly wind. 
 
 " Fine ; fine on the whole," he said presently. " But 
 the wind will get up towards evening and will probably 
 bring some rain. But showers : merely showers." 
 
 Rose, whose lips had moved as she repeated to herself 
 her master's words as he spoke, left the room, at which 
 Joe returned to the dining-room mahogany, on which tea 
 was set out. 
 
 When the rather solid meal was over, Joe suggested 
 that, as his friends were tired after their walk from 
 Hammersmith, they should sit and smoke in the garden ; 
 they responded with alacrity, and were about to leave 
 the room, but when they saw how Jeannie, having one or 
 two preparations connected with supper to make, was not 
 accompanying them, they, to Joe's delight, as one man 
 resumed their seats. 
 
 It being spring, the approaching holidays were discussed, 
 at which Ferrars asked of Jeannie, "And where is charming 
 Miss Pilcher going ? " 
 
 " Very charming Miss Pilcher is being taken by her 
 quite perfect daddy to Cromer," replied Jeannie, at which 
 Joe was so touched by this compliment that he rapidly 
 blinked his eyes. 
 
 " Not to a place on the Great Western ? " asked a sur- 
 prised Ferrars. 
 
 " Not this time. Joe thinks the east coast more bracing 
 than the west." 
 
 " But the ' G.W.' gives us tickets for the west coast," 
 put in practical Mr. Bristow. 
 
 " I've gone into that," said Joe. " I know some one 
 in the Great Eastern who wants to go to Plymouth. 
 We're going to do an exchange." 
 
 " Clever Joe ! " laughed Jeannie. 
 
28 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Where is Mr. Bristow going ? " asked Joe. 
 
 " Penzance." 
 
 " And you ? " he asked of Mr. Mew. 
 
 " Penzance," promptly replied Mr. Mew. 
 
 " Yes, I'm taking my young lady to Penzance," con- 
 tinued Mr. Bristow reflectively, a piece of information 
 which caused Jeannie to prick up her ears. 
 
 " Your young lady ? " she queried. 
 
 " We've arranged to go to the same boarding-house," 
 Mr. Bristow informed her, quite as if it were the most 
 natural thing in the world. While the respective merits 
 of watering-places, landladies and boarding-houses were 
 discussed, Jeannie wondered to what extent " Clarence 
 College " would be shocked by the fact of Mr. Bristow 
 spending his holiday under the same roof as his 
 betrothed. 
 
 When she was, presently, alone, after the guests had 
 reluctantly been shepherded into the garden, she was busy 
 with superintending Rose's laying of the table for supper ; 
 then, she gave a final rub to the Sheffield-plated cruet, 
 before reverently placing it on the table. 
 
 When a look had been given round the kitchen, and the 
 cold meats were seen to be aU ready for taking to the 
 dining-room, she mixed a salad and arranged some flowers 
 for the table : she was then free to join the others in the 
 garden. 
 
 She found them comparing the works of their gold 
 watches (Mr. Mew had saved up and bought a gold watch 
 when he had discovered that Mr. Bristow possessed one), 
 but they put them away when they saw Jeannie, and did 
 their utmost to make themselves agreeable to their host's 
 fair daughter. 
 
 Soon, Mr. Coop, who had also been asked, arrived, 
 and was introduced to the railway clerks. Apparently 
 there was an increased demand for invalid furniture, 
 for Mr. Coop's appearance was redolent of prosperity. 
 He brought a beautiful box of chocolates for Miss Jeannie, 
 
A "CRUET" NIGHT 29 
 
 as he now called her, and a fat case of good cigars which he 
 proceeded to hand round : later, he let fall how he was 
 looking out for a nice plot of ground on which to build 
 " the wife " and himself a house. 
 
 An hour was pleasantly passed till supper was due, at 
 which Joe and Jeannie faced each other at opposite ends 
 of the table, while Mr. Coop sought every excuse for 
 exploding with his customary laughter. 
 
 Soon, the substantial, homely food, the good beer, 
 removed any constraint the guests may have known ; this 
 was particularly the case with Mr. Bristow, who had not 
 done himself so well for many a long day ; he lay back 
 in his chair and surveyed the others with genial eyes, 
 while he was imitated, at a distance, by Mr. Mew. 
 
 For a time, colleagues at the ofi&ce were discussed, 
 when Joe's criticisms were invariably charitable, while 
 Mr. Bristow's somewhat caustic comments on his fellow- 
 clerks' vagaries were always supported by an identical 
 opinion on the part of Mr. Mew. 
 
 Then, the talk drifted to the subject of the pension to 
 which the clerks employed by the railway were entitled 
 on reaching the age of sixty ; by prolonging their term 
 of service tUl sixty-five was reached, it meant an increased 
 retiring allowance. 
 
 Joe was now fifty-seven ; he astonished his fellow- 
 clerks by emphatically declaring how he would have 
 had enough of work by the time he was sixty, and after 
 he had reached that age was eagerly looking forward 
 to passing his remaining days in a country cottage. 
 
 It was a matter he had often discussed with Jeannie, 
 who was at one with her father on the matter. 
 
 To-night, his three friends vigorously criticised his 
 intention, pointing out how most of the men who had 
 retired at sixty invariably died from sheer weariness 
 at having nothing to occupy their minds. 
 
 Jeannie, who had not found Mr. Bristow's and Mr. Mew's 
 conversation particularly interesting, was ignored while 
 
30 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Joe's approaching retirement from work was rather hotly 
 debated. 
 
 She felt herself neglected, and resented this mdifference 
 to her presence, particularly as two of the men could by 
 no means approximate to Clarence College requirements. 
 
 She wished her father had not asked them down : she 
 did not wish to see them again, and felt a little angry with 
 Joe for having invited them to meet her. 
 
 To the surprise of the table, she took an early opportunity 
 of saying " good-night " and, despite the protestations of 
 Joe and his friends, of going upstairs to bed. 
 
 WhUe undressing, it seemed from the laughter that 
 reached her ears as if the conversation were less constrained 
 than it had been when she was downstairs ; she wondered 
 if Joe were telling any of his funny, if venerable stories, 
 and, for all her chagrin, hoped he would not forget the 
 various points, she being not at hand to prompt him in the 
 not improbable event of his going astray. 
 
 When about to brush her profusion of hair, she re- 
 membered that her brushes had been washed on that day 
 and were now drying in the bathroom. She fetched them ; 
 in returning, she heard Joe's voice in the room downstairs. 
 
 " Have you ever heard this ? Mr. Kenny once had a 
 dinner party, when the butler, in opening the sherry, left 
 some of the cork in the bottle." 
 
 She knew the story well, but for all this acquaintance 
 she listened attentively, hoping he would not falter by the 
 way. 
 
 Joe continued in his kindly voice, which was now instinct 
 with the enjo3mient begotten of holding the attention of his 
 audience. 
 
 " Mr. Kenny, in drinking the wine, got the piece of cork 
 in his throat, at which one of the guests remarked, ' That's 
 not the way for Cork.' " 
 
 Although the story was not done. Coop could no longer 
 contain himself ; his laughter stabbed the air. 
 
 Joe went on : 
 
A "CRUET" NIGHT 31 
 
 " ' No, that's not the way for Cork,' declared another of 
 the guests ; ' it's the way to Kill Kenny.' " 
 
 Although Joe had told the story a score of times before, 
 his laughter was conspicuous in the hilarity greeting its 
 conclusion. 
 
 This instance of his simplicity touched Jeannie to the 
 quick. She forgot her previous annoyance, while her 
 heart went out to the unsophisticated man who found joy 
 in simple things. 
 
 In a revulsion of love and devotion, she threw herself 
 by her bedside, and prayed long and fervently for Joe's 
 well-being and length of days ; prayed for her own life to 
 be so ordered that it would crown her father's remaining 
 years with happiness. 
 
 Her appeal was punctuated by Coop's distant, explosive 
 laughter. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A CHANCE MEETING 
 
 On a fine Saturday afternoon in July, Jeannie was busily 
 engaged in preening herself at her dressing-table ; she was 
 going out with Joe ; as she knew the pleasure it gave him 
 to be seen in her company, she was anxious to look her 
 best. 
 
 When, as not infrequently happened, she looked at her 
 reflection, she was surprised, as well as gratified, at her 
 increasing comeliness of person : an enchanting colour 
 caressed her cheek, while her eyes were aglow with vivacity ; 
 this was occasionally chastened by a provoking tenderness 
 sweet to behold. 
 
 She was putting on a new pair of gloves (a great extrava- 
 gance) when Joe's cheery voice was heard in the hall. 
 
 " Which way are we going, Joe ? " she asked of her 
 father, after she had welcomed him with a kiss. 
 
 He did not answer for a few moments, being engaged in 
 proudly appraising the fine appearance she made. 
 
 " I thought Richmond Park, dear, if it isn't too far." 
 
 " Not a bit. What were you staring at ? " 
 
 " My pretty Jeannie. I was wondering if she could 
 really be my little girl." 
 
 " Why, Joe ? " 
 
 " Never mind," he replied, as he feU to brushing vigor- 
 ously his hat and clothes. 
 
 " Ready ? " she asked, as she took a final look of herself 
 in the glass of the hatstand. 
 
 " When I've put on a new tie I bought on the way home." 
 
 " Joe 1 " she protested, in surprise. 
 
A CHANCE MEETING 33 
 
 " I didn't intend wearing it till to-morrow, but since 
 you're such a swell, it's the least I can do." 
 
 " Better let me put it on," said Jeannie, who was well 
 aware that, whatever admirable qualities her father 
 possessed, putting on a tie neatly was not one of them. 
 
 The tie being carefuUy adjusted by Jeannie's slim 
 fingers, she lightly kissed her father on the forehead before 
 setting out, when it almost brought a lump to her throat 
 to perceive the abiding pride with which Joe escorted his 
 daughter. 
 
 Not only would he furtively regard her, but would look 
 annoyed should any one pass and not be attracted by the 
 fair presence of his Jeannie. 
 
 " I've one or two things to order, Joe. You don't mind 
 being kept waiting ? " 
 
 " Not a bit. I'm out to enjoy myself." 
 
 " But you so love to get into the country." 
 
 " It's always beautiful where you are, Jeannie," he 
 replied simply. 
 
 His honest tenderness reduced her to temporary silence. 
 
 " I've all sorts of messages for you," he said presently. 
 
 " Who from ? " 
 
 " Mr. Ferrars, Mr. Bristow, and Mr. Mew." 
 
 " Very nice of them. When am I to see them again ? " 
 she asked, with no particular enthusiasm. 
 
 " I scarcely know, tmless we ask them down again." 
 
 " It's their turn to ask us back." 
 
 Joe shook his head. 
 
 " Won't they ? " she asked, not at aU soiry if no invita- 
 tion were forthcoming. 
 
 " Well, dear, take Ferrars, for instance : he's married, 
 and as he's a large family he's very poor. In the ' G.W.' 
 there's very little of asking each other to their houses — 
 the most they do in the way of hospitality is giving a few 
 bulbs or a very occasional rose tree." 
 
 After a few moments' silence, Joe said : 
 
 " Speaking of entertaining, isn't it time you asked the 
 3 
 
34 THE SINS OP THE CHILDREN 
 
 Miss Hitches in for the evening ? They've been very kind 
 to you." 
 
 " If you wish iC Joe," replied Jeannie, none too 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 " Wouldn't my Jeannie like to have them ? " 
 
 " Not particularly. They will keep on talking about 
 ' nice ' people. A little of it may be all very well, but 
 one can have too much of a good thing." 
 
 He did not immediately reply, being lost in thought of 
 which the burden was, apparently, the spinsters' and 
 other people's social prepossessions, for he presently said : 
 
 " From what I've seen of life, it isn't what a man has or 
 what he's born to that counts ; it's what he is in himself, as 
 you yourself will find out sooner or later." For aU that 
 this opinion conflicted with the material ideals of Clarence 
 College, the fact of them being enunciated by her father 
 urged her to agree to his remarks, for all their flavour of 
 triteness. 
 
 At infrequent intervals, Jeannie left her father to enter 
 various shops where she was assiduously attended to if 
 served by a man, indifferently should a woman be behind 
 the counter, her youth and radiant comeliness being more 
 than any true woman could readily forgive. 
 
 Jeannie, who, in common with the rest of her sex, was 
 rarely in the same mind for two minutes together, was so 
 touched by her father's simple delight in her company 
 that, for the time being, social ambitions were forgotten. 
 
 She had only thought for him just now, at which she 
 gave expression to something that had been on her mind 
 before when similarly moved by considerations for Joe's 
 welfare. It was after visiting a greengrocer's that Jeannie 
 voiced her thoughts. 
 
 " There's something I want to say to you," she began. 
 
 " Fire away." 
 
 " Perhaps you won't like my saying it," she went on, as 
 she thrust her arm confidentially in his. 
 
 " If it's unpleasant, be quick and get it over." 
 
A CHANCE MEETING 35 
 
 " It's scarcely that, but it's this. Can you afford to 
 send me to ' Clarence College ' ? " 
 
 " If I couldn't, I shouldn't," said Joe bluntly, who was 
 greatly touched by his daughter's solicitude for his pocket. 
 
 " But I know my Joe. He's just the man to deny 
 himself for any one he loves." 
 
 " Well, dear, it's just this. And since you've asked, you 
 may as well know. When you were growing up, I put by 
 for this." 
 
 " Self-denial ! " 
 
 " Scarcely that. I didn't want anything for myself, so 
 I thought the best thing I could do was to do my best to 
 make a lady of my Jeannie." 
 
 " I wUl leave whenever you wish. And there are so 
 many things I could do at home if I had more time." 
 
 " In a house of your own, my dear." 
 
 " Joe ! " 
 
 " If I know the world, it won't be very long before my 
 Jeannie is snapped up." 
 
 " Who by, Joe ? " asked Jeannie, with a gratified 
 surprise. 
 
 " Hello ! " said a voice at her elbow. 
 
 Jeannie turned, to discover Mabel Baverstock, a member 
 of the most exclusive set at Clarence College. 
 
 " HeUo ! " replied Jeannie, as she wondered if she should 
 introduce Joe to Mabel. " What are you doing here ? " 
 
 " I'm waiting for my brother. He's ordering something 
 in Huggins's." 
 
 " That reminds me, I've to order something too." 
 
 At that moment, a clean-shaven, large-featured young 
 man, whose tall figure was clad in a Norfolk suit (such 
 garments had not then fallen into disrepute), came from 
 the shop and was about to join Mabel when his eyes 
 encountered Jeannie's. 
 
 In spite of herself, she was fascinated by his gaze and, 
 although wishing to avoid his glance, she was powerless : 
 she helplessly regarded him. 
 
36 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Divining she was about to enter the shop, he made way 
 for her ; with heightening colour, she passed before him 
 when it was with a considerable effort she recalled what 
 she had come to order. 
 
 She did not dare look out of the window, but when 
 she reached the street a surprise awaited her : Mabel 
 Baverstock, who was loitering near the door, approached 
 her, to say : 
 
 " This is my brother, Edgar." Turning to her brother, 
 she added : " This is Jeannie Pilcher." 
 
 Jeannie bowed while the beating of her heart was 
 stimulated by the knowledge that Edgar's eyes were 
 admiringly appraising her ; she was eager and yet loth 
 to join her father, who was waiting a little distance away. 
 
 " How is Mabel's little school friend ? " he began. 
 
 All her customary assurance seemed to have deserted 
 her, for she dropped her eyes and said : 
 
 " If you mean me, I'm quite well." 
 
 " Aren't you very lucky ? " he continued, with an easy 
 confidence of manner. 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " In not being kept in this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Yes, because then I should have missed going for a walk 
 with my father." 
 
 The sincerity of her words rather surprised him. 
 
 " Your father ! " he repeated, as he looked about him. 
 Very soon, his eye lighted upon Joe's honest face ; he 
 genially nodded, at which the latter approached the little 
 group. 
 
 " Good afternoon, sir ! " said Joe to Edgar, and with a 
 glance that included Mabel. " I hope I see you well." 
 At the same time, he put out his hand, which Edgar, who 
 was rather surprised at this effusiveness, took. 
 
 They talked commonplace for a few moments during 
 which, so far as it was possible within the limits of courtesy, 
 Edgar's eyes sought Jeannie. 
 
 She had no idea how the colour, that imaccountably 
 
A CHANCE MEETING 37 
 
 persisted in painting her cheeks, added to her native 
 attractiveness. 
 
 Then, after a shy farewell, she was again walking with 
 her father, when she was striving to appreciate the alteration 
 in her emotions which had occurred since her encounter 
 with young Baverstock, who she rightly believed must be 
 the brother who was, or had been, at Cambridge. 
 
 Before, she had been a carelessly self-possessed young 
 woman ; now, her mind was in a turmoil, while she was a 
 little fearful of determining the cause. 
 
 Of one thing she was certain ; this, that she would not 
 presume to judge Edgar by Clarence College standards, 
 he being altogether removed from these. 
 
 Her father's voice interrupted her thoughts. 
 
 " Nice-looking young fellow ? " he said presently. 
 
 " Isn't he ? " 
 
 " And unlike most nice-looking chaps, he seemed as if 
 his head were screwed on the right way." 
 
 Jeannie was again able to agree. 
 
 " Did you notice how he was interested in you ? " 
 
 " He wasn't," blushed Jeannie. 
 
 " He hardly took his eyes off you," declared Joe, to add 
 defiantly : " And why not ? " 
 
 They were each occupied with their several thoughts 
 until they passed a large, newly erected, red-brick house 
 standing in about three acres of grounds ; a semicircle 
 of drive led to the front door, and upon the two gates 
 '' Pyracantha " was conspicuously painted. 
 
 " That's Mr. Baverstock's," said Jeannie, whose heart, 
 for no particular reason, sank at noticing the prosperity 
 it denoted. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Joe, as he paused to regard com- 
 placently the house : he was congratulating himself that 
 his careful savings enabled Jeannie to mix on equal terms 
 with the daughters of men who kept up such fine estab- 
 lishments. 
 
 " Come on, Joe," admonished Jeannie almost irritably. 
 
38 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " But it's where your friends live." 
 
 " I know. Come on, or we shall never get to the park." 
 
 Hardly had they passed " Pyracantha " when they saw 
 Coop busily engaged with two men who carried roUed-up 
 tape-measures and a large ground plan : just now, they 
 were intently examining the latter. 
 
 " He's looking out for a site ; he wants to build," ex- 
 plained Joe. " But we won't wait." 
 
 " We won't," asserted Jeannie. 
 
 " Fancy thinking of building next door to your friends ? " 
 
 They were about to turn into Clarence Lane when she 
 perceived a little distance away, but going in a contrary 
 direction, Gertrude Stubbs walking arm-in-arm with young 
 Scott. They did not see Jeannie, who, in spite of herself, 
 found herself envying the lovers for many minutes after 
 she had lost sight of them. 
 
 The afternoon was destined to provide further adventure. 
 
 As father and daughter walked along shady Clarence 
 Lane in the direction of Richmond Park, they saw ahead 
 of them a square-shouldered young man who was wearing 
 a shabby tweed suit and a " deer-stalker " cap ; he carried 
 a stick which he occasionally brandished. 
 
 They would not have caught him up had he not thrice 
 stopped in order to do up his shoe-lace. 
 
 " Ah ! Titterton ! " said Joe, as they passed the young 
 man. " I had an idea it was you." 
 
 " Good afternoon, sir," replied Titterton, as he lifted 
 his deer-stalker. Then his eye fell on Jeannie, when she 
 was conscious of the surprised admiration with which he 
 regarded her. 
 
 Judged by his clothes, he was certainly not up to 
 Clarence College standards, Jeannie reflected: otherwise, 
 he had rather an impressive appearance ; although an 
 aquiline nose decorated a pale face, this latter defect 
 was largely redeemed by a pair of finely shaped eyes of 
 the colour known as hazel. 
 
 " Going to the park ? " asked Joe, 
 
A CHANCE MEETING 39 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " We might all go together," suggested Joe, to add 
 proudly : 
 
 " May I introduce my daughter ? " 
 
 Titterton again raised the deer-stalker as he said : 
 
 " I should like to go with you, if Miss Pilcher does not 
 object." 
 
 As Jeannie did not, they aU walked abreast, at which 
 Joe informed her how Mr. Titterton was a fellow-worker 
 in the service of the Great Western Railway, a fact that 
 Jeannie had aheady divined. 
 
 Although she Wcis pleased at the deference with which 
 Titterton treated her father, she would have liked him 
 better had he shown more independence : if anything, 
 she was grateful for the addition to their company, as 
 since the two men found plenty to talk about, she was at 
 liberty to luxuriate in thoughts that, save for the necessity 
 of paying attention when a remark was addressed her, 
 were free from molestation. 
 
 These were wholly concerned with Edgar Baverstock 
 and were largely of an indeterminate nature : even as the 
 ardent summer day seemed gladder and at the same time 
 sadder on account of her having met him, so, also, she her- 
 self was both elated and depressed by reason of the same 
 event. 
 
 She had never met a man who had so appealed to her 
 before, and she could not deny that he had been greatly 
 attracted by her : she had a considerable suspicion that 
 he had asked his sister to introduce him to her. 
 
 In the manner of youth, she wove romantic fancies about 
 Mabel's prepossessing brother, fancies in which he and 
 she alone had any concern : but however persistently she 
 built aerial castles, they were always dismally overshadowed 
 by the walls of " Pyracantha," Edgar's father's new house. 
 
 They passed the iron gate into the park, when the 
 sudden expanse of undulating, gracious sward, intersected 
 by a stream, inspired a longing for loneliness in Jeannie's 
 
40 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 heart : such isolation being out of the question, she re- 
 velled, so far as it was possible, in her thoughts when, for 
 aU their romantic leanings, scraps of the two men's con- 
 versation insisted on intruding upon her imaginings. 
 
 The' two men had got on to politics ; it seemed that 
 Titterton was by way of being a socialist and that Joe 
 was vigorously assailing this economic belief. 
 
 " All nonsense, sir ; all nonsense," Joe kept on re- 
 peating to Titterton, who replied with eloquent periods in 
 which such words as " protelariat," " unearned increment," 
 and " exploitation " frequently occurred. 
 
 Some minutes later, politics, as if by mutual consent, 
 were suddenly dropped, at which Titterton said to 
 Jeannie : 
 
 " I never see you at the ' G.W.' musical society." 
 
 " That's hardly surprising," said Jeannie. " I've never 
 been." 
 
 " Your father can easily get tickets." 
 
 " Jeannie's music isn't neglected," declared Joe. " She 
 has violin and piano lessons." 
 
 Titterton professed great interest. 
 
 " And if you care to come to tea some Saturday, you 
 shall hear her play." 
 
 Titterton was deeply grateful for the opportunity of 
 meeting Jeannie again, and in such privileged circum- 
 stances. 
 
 The conversation then turned to the subject of holidays 
 when, after Joe explained how he was going to Cromer, 
 Titterton said he had decided on Tenby. 
 
 " Why Tenby ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " It's very fashionable," replied Titterton, at which she 
 was hard put to it to repress a smile. 
 
 Apart from the intention of going to Tenby, Titterton 
 frequently complained of his inability to do a variety of 
 things owing to being hard up : more than once he spoke of 
 the poor salaries railway clerks earned by their labours. 
 
 " See much of your father now ? " asked Joe presently. 
 
A CHANCE MEETING 41 
 
 " No, thank goodness." 
 
 Jeannie stared in amazement. 
 
 " Titterton's father is scarcely what he might be," ex- 
 plained Joe. 
 
 " Spends all his money on himself. It's as much as I 
 can do to make two ends meet," declared Titter ton. 
 
 Presently, the conversation drifted to the perennial 
 subject of the office, and then by easy stages to the dining 
 club, of which institution Joe expressed hearty approval. 
 
 " It's all right as far as it goes," admitted Titterton. 
 
 " What's wrong with it ? " asked Joe. " Tell me, and 
 I'll get it put right. They've — ahem — they've recently 
 elected me on the committee." 
 
 " There's nothing really wrong. But they scarcely give 
 you a thick soup, a smelt, a cutlet, a bit of game, and an ice 
 pudding," he remarked, at which suggestion of prodigality 
 Jeannie pricked up her little ears. 
 
 " That they don't," declared Joe. 
 
 " Or a few oysters, a saddle of mutton, a savoury, and a 
 dessert." 
 
 " You couldn't expect it," said Joe. 
 
 Once embarked on the subject of fine feeding, Titterton 
 became eloquent. He talked at length of his preference 
 for what he called " company " dinners, which apparently 
 comprised four courses with appropriate wines. 
 
 For a poor man, he had a surprisingly intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the higher flights of gastronomy ; having started 
 something on which he could specialise, he, for Jeannie's 
 behoof, ran away with his subject : he was dismally un- 
 aware that she was depressed by his information on this 
 particular matter ; partly because her ignorance argued 
 an approximation to social inferiority ; otherwise on 
 account of the fact that this lack widened the gulf that 
 separated her from Edgar Baverstock and his like. 
 
 Presently, Joe commented with his natural good sense 
 on Titterton's gastronomic talk. 
 
 " After all said and done, it's better to spend money 
 
42 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 on food than to starve oneself and put what one saves on 
 one's back." 
 
 " Speaking of clothes," remarked Titterton, as he glanced 
 at his worn cottony tweeds, " I don't care how shabby I am 
 so long as I know I've good togs at home." 
 
 " Supposing you hadn't ? " suggested Jeannie. 
 
 " That doesn't bear thinking about," replied Titterton. 
 
 Soon after, the latter turned back after arranging to come 
 to tea with the Pilchers on the following Saturday. 
 
 " What do you think of our friend ? " asked Joe of 
 Jeannie when they were alone. 
 
 " I was rather amused," replied Jeannie idly. 
 
 " Pity he's such a red-hot socialist." 
 
 "Is he?" 
 
 " Didn't you hear how I bowled him out ? " 
 
 " You were sure to do that," she laughed. 
 
 Joe ignored the flippant remark, and said in all serious- 
 ness: 
 
 " But he'U grow out of it. When I was a young man, 
 I believed in much the same sort of thing, but a few years' 
 experience of the world will work wonders with him." 
 
 " He seems to know a lot about eating." 
 
 " Yes, poor fellow." 
 
 Jeannie glanced at her father, who said by way of ex- 
 plaining his pitying expression : 
 
 " His father, who hcis a little money of his own, spends 
 everything on eating and drinking ; he's a Freemason. 
 Very occasionally he gives his son a good dinner." 
 
 " I understand," smiled Jeannie. 
 
 " The recollection often stands him in good stead. They 
 say that sometimes, towards the end of the month, when he 
 and his friends are very hard up and can't afford a midday 
 meal, they tie a piece of string tightly about where their 
 dinner should be, and walk round the park, when Titter- 
 ton describes at length the fine dinners he's eaten." 
 
 Father and daughter spent a restful afternoon in the 
 park when, for the first time in her life, the latter was 
 
A CHANCE MEETING 43 
 
 impatient of Joe's presence, his conversation interfering 
 with the daydreams that persistently assailed her. 
 
 She was tired and fretful when she got back, and eager 
 to go to bed, but when undressed, she was unable to go to 
 sleep, thoughts, often inchoate, of Edgar Baverstock dis- 
 turbing her mind and keeping her awake. 
 
 His appearance and charm of manner, together with the 
 arrant and obvious prosperity of " Pyracantha," induced 
 a humility that urged her to abase herself in her own eyes. 
 
 She was certain that Edgar had never given her a 
 moment's thought after he had parted from her in the 
 afternoon, and as she presently fell asleep, she convinced 
 herself she would never see him again. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 GREAT EXPECTATIONS 
 
 Mrs. Baverstock Requests the Pleasure of 
 
 Mr. and Miss Pitcher's Company 
 
 at a Garden Party on Saturday, 
 
 29th July. 
 
 4.30-8.30. R.S.V.P. 
 
 Jeannie read the above, which had just arrived by the 
 three o'clock post, with trembling hands ; its coming put 
 from her mind all thought of Mr. Titterton's visit, he 
 being expected about four. 
 
 During the week that had elapsed since she had met 
 Edgar Baverstock, she had often thought of him but, 
 as day succeeded day, he less insistently occupied her 
 mind, indeed, she was becoming reconciled to the un- 
 likelihood of ever meeting him again when the arrival 
 of the invitation told her how mistaken she had been : 
 the probability of shortly seeing him set her heart a-beat, 
 while she wondered if he had had anything to do with 
 its dispatch. 
 
 Apart from her keen delight at the prospect of cultivating 
 an acquaintance with the man who had made such an 
 impression upon her, she derived an immense gratifica- 
 tion from being asked to a garden party at " P37racantha " : 
 not only was there distinct promise of her social ambitions 
 being furthered, but the fact of her being bidden told 
 her that others, and those her superiors, considered she 
 was eligible to move in the comparatively exalted circles 
 
 to which she aspired. 
 
 44 
 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS 45 
 
 " Anything for me ? " asked Joe, who had not long 
 been in. 
 
 Jeannie handed him the card, at which her father's face 
 flushed with pleasure. 
 
 " I haven't sent you to Clarence College for nothing," 
 he said. " You'U be quite a society lady before you've 
 done." 
 
 " Of course, you'll come." 
 
 " Not me." 
 
 " Why not, Joe ? " 
 
 " I never cared for that sort of thing." 
 
 " But you're asked, Joe." 
 
 " I can't help that. Mr. Joe Pilcher will regret he's 
 otherwise engaged." 
 
 Although Jeannie was ashamed to confess it to herself, 
 she was dimly aware that in the secret places of her heart 
 she was glad Joe had no intention of going to the garden 
 party : she would not admit he might be found wanting 
 according to Clarence College ideals, but repeatedly told 
 herself how Joe's tastes differed from those of the Baver- 
 stocks and their like. 
 
 Little else but the approaching party was talked of 
 till a knock at the door announced the arrival of Titterton. 
 
 When he presently appeared, Jeannie could hardly 
 believe the evidence of her eyes, so changed was the 
 railway clerk's appearance. 
 
 He wore a black taU-coat, carefully creased, twUl 
 trousers, patent-leather boots, and a velveteen waistcoat, 
 while an eyeglass af&xed to a gold cord was screwed into 
 his eye ; his hands held a glossy taU hat, gloves, and a 
 silver-mounted cane, but to Jeannie's sharp eyes the 
 effect of these glories was marred by the fact of his shirt 
 cuffs being horribly grubby. He was apparently conscious 
 of this defect for he continually pushed them up his sleeves 
 in order to conceal them. 
 
 He greeted Joe warmly, Jeannie timidly ; if she had not 
 been so taken up with the forthcoming garden party she. 
 
46 THE SINS OF THE CHHJJREN 
 
 with her woman's intuition, would have perceived how 
 Titterton was more than a Uttle enamoured of her, and 
 that his fine raiment was an inevitable symptom of his 
 infatuation. 
 
 " Isn't he a duke ? " whispered Joe to Jeannie, when 
 the visitor was carrying chairs into the garden so they 
 could all sit out of doors cind enjoy the svmshine of the 
 gay summer afternoon. 
 
 " Poor duke ! " smiled Jeannie, who thought Titterton 
 was on firmer ground when dad in his shabby tweeds. 
 
 Somehow, conversation languished ; at the best of times 
 Joe was no talker, while Jeannie's thoughts were occupied 
 with the prospect of again meeting Edgar ; love had the 
 effect of reducing Titterton to a moody silence. 
 
 By way of cheering the doAsmcast railway clerk, Joe 
 told him of the invitation to the garden party ; also, of 
 the financial status of the owner of " Pyracantha," but 
 to his surprise the remedy had the effect of furthering 
 the aOment from which Titterton suffered : he could only 
 start on some subject, stop short and stare miserably 
 at Jeannie, who, just now, was mentally going through 
 her wardrobe in order to decide on what she should wear 
 at the Baverstocks'. 
 
 If, during the morning, she had been told of the forth- 
 coming party, she would have beUeved she only wanted 
 an invitation to complete her happiness ; now that she 
 was bidden she foimd that once she was attuned to the 
 pleasure of being asked, there was bitterness in the cup 
 of her joy. This was caused by realisiag that she had 
 not a suJB&cientiy smart frock for her appearance at 
 " PjTacantha." More than once she thought of asking 
 Joe to buy her one but, with her hvely appreciation of 
 the value of money, she forbore to tax further his good- 
 nature. 
 
 At five o'clock they went indoors, where a substantial 
 tea was laid on the dining-room mahogany, Joe having 
 hinted to Jeannie that as it was near the end of the month. 
 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS 47 
 
 in which there were thirty-one days, Mr. Titterton might 
 appreciate a solid meal. 
 
 At first, Titterton seemed to have no appetite, but 
 after a few perfmictory mouthfuls he warmed to work, 
 when his capacity for swallowing food surprised Jeannie 
 and even Joe, famihar as was the latter with his junior's 
 late-monthly hunger : two plates of bread and butter, 
 a plate of radishes, three helpings of cold meat, and the 
 greater part of a large home-made cake disappeared TOth 
 amazing rapidity, when the incongruity between Titterton's 
 fine clothes and his voracity was painfully apparent to 
 his hostess. If she had not been obsessed by frocks and 
 frills, she would have sympathised deeply with Titterton's 
 extremity, but all she noticed was that the satisfying 
 of his craving for food made him indifferent to the necessity 
 of concealing his sorry ciiffs. 
 
 When he was, at last, satisfied, it looked as if he were 
 about to fall asleep, at which Joe asked him if he would 
 like to hear Jeannie play. 
 
 Upon his saying he would be delighted, a move was 
 made to the little drawing-room, where Jeannie performed 
 on the piano before essajong to show what she could do on 
 the violin. 
 
 Although ordinarily a fair performer, this evening 
 she did herself scant justice, her mind now running on 
 hats and shoes for the Baverstock party ; but for all her 
 faulty fingering, Titterton, under the influence of his 
 passion (and the substantial tea), thought he had never 
 listened to such ravishing music in his life, and as good 
 as said so. 
 
 Otherwise, the rest of the evening was much of a failure 
 owing to Titterton's silence, which was frequently punctu- 
 ated with sighs. 
 
 Joe tried to cheer him by asking him to stay to supper 
 but, divining how the invitation was not warmly seconded 
 by Jeannie, Titterton, after many false starts, took his 
 leave. 
 
48 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 When Jeannie was bidding her father " good-night," 
 he shpped a couple of sovereigns in her hand. 
 
 " Whafs that for, Joe ? " 
 
 " The garden party, of course." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " I want my Jeannie to go looking her best." 
 
 " But I can't take all that." 
 
 " You wouldn't hesitate if you knew the pleasure it 
 gave me." 
 
 Jeannie reflected a moment during which she knew an 
 acute remorse for having harboured a sUght feeling of 
 relief that her father was not going to the garden party. 
 She was eager to atone ; consequently, she said : 
 
 " I shall only take it on one condition." 
 
 " And that ? " 
 
 " You change your mind and come." 
 
 Joe shook his head. 
 
 " But you must. I wish it, Joe. Your Jeannie." 
 
 " No ; no," he declared. " Such places ain't for me. I 
 shall get my pleasure in having a look at you before you 
 go, and hearing aU about it when you come back." 
 
 " We shall see. I usually get my way if I set my mind 
 on it, and I have on this." 
 
 When she kissed her father's beaming face, she hastened 
 upstairs and, sitting on her bed, thought of aU the wonders 
 the two sovereigns would buy. Of course, she would have 
 to make the frock herself, but that was a small matter, 
 she being handy with her needle ; also, the work would be 
 a labour of love inasmuch as she was eager to look her 
 best before Edgar Baverstock. 
 
 Before she fell asleep, it was all planned out. It was to be 
 a frock of soft white silk, while a piece of Honiton lace, which 
 had belonged to her mother, would decorate the bodice ; 
 a white ostrich feather, also her mother's, would do, she 
 thought, for the white straw hat she had in mind. 
 
 Against the happiness begotten in the breasts of students 
 at Clarence College, who received an invitation to the 
 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS 49 
 
 garden jjarty, must be set the black despair which filled 
 many hearts at finding their possessors had not been 
 bidden. Many and elaborately feeble were the excuses 
 given by the latter, the chief of these being that a recent 
 death in the family made them ineUgible for an invitation. 
 
 WTien it was known how Jeaimie was one of the favoured, 
 she was surprised to discover how many she had regarded 
 as dear friends were suddenly converted into scarcely 
 veiled enemies. 
 
 As if this were not enough to trouble her, there were 
 fears that the weather would fail on the eventful afternoon 
 (although Joe assured her that the prospects were most 
 favourable) ; that her frock would not prove a success ; 
 that something would happen to prevent her going. 
 
 Several tim^ she urged on Joe that she wanted him to 
 accompany her, but, at last, he definitely repUed to her 
 persistence by showing her his rather scanty wardrobe, 
 which contained nothing smart enough for a festive appear- 
 ance at " Pyracantha." 
 
 " It isn't as if I were a rich man," explained Joe. " Then 
 it wouldn't matter what I wore. But when we're as we 
 are, some people are apt to think less of one if one isn't 
 turned out quite up to the mark." 
 
 " Are some people really as bad as that ? " asked Jeannie, 
 in all innocence. 
 
 " It's a hard thing to say, but my experience tells me 
 there are people like that," repUed Joe, who was angrj- 
 with himself at having divined something wanting in 
 his fellow-men ; he was disposed to ascribe the discovery 
 to something ami'?^ in his own nature. 
 
 Jeannie pondered on what her father told her, and added 
 thm information to the sum of her experiences of human 
 nature among her acquaintances at Clarence CoU^e. 
 
 At last, although Jeannie thought the moment would 
 never arrive, the time came when, ready dressed for the 
 party, she, after countless consultations with her looking- 
 glass, was ready to leave her room and show herself to 
 4 
 
so THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Joe who, in his shabby gardening things, was awaiting her 
 below. 
 
 " I was right about the weather," he informed her, as 
 she came downstairs. 
 
 " Will I do ? " she asked, ignoring his remark, and shyly 
 conscious she was looking her best. 
 
 Joe was so lost in admiration that he did not speak. 
 
 " Disappointed ? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " WeU " 
 
 " I bet anything anybody likes that my Jeannie will be 
 the prettiest girl there." 
 
 " Joe ! " 
 
 " Not only the prettiest, but what is much more im- 
 portant, the best hearted. Now be off. I don't want you 
 to miss a moment." 
 
 " I do wish you were coming, Joe." 
 
 " I'U come and fetch you. If I don't " 
 
 " Well ? " said Jeannie, as her father hesitated. 
 
 " Never mind," he replied shortly. " And don't forget 
 I was right about the weather." 
 
 " Good-bye, Joe," she said softly. 
 
 " Good-bye and God bless you. I shall be with you in 
 thought." 
 
 " While you're pulling up nasty weeds ! " 
 
 " Flowers, Jeannie ; the flower garden to-day. They'll 
 speak of you if I'm inclined to forget you, which isn't 
 hkely." 
 
 As Jeannie walked towards " Pyracantha," she was 
 surprised at the tmusual attention she attracted. Memory 
 of her father's loving-kindness, anticipations of meeting 
 Edgar, nervousness at mixing in such exalted social circles, 
 heightened the colour in her cheeks and lips, and gave to 
 her gracious presence a pretty trepidation which was irre- 
 sistible in its appealing tenderness. 
 
 Hardly had her hand tremblingly touched the brass 
 knocker of her host's house, when a man in livery smartly 
 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS 51 
 
 opened the door and conducted her across a flower- 
 decorated hall to open glass doors at the farther end ; 
 here, she gave her name to another man-servant, when it 
 was announced to Mrs. Baverstock, who, with her husband 
 and Mabel in attendance, was receiving her guests on the 
 nearmost lawn. 
 
 Although the two men-servants had considerably confused 
 Jeannie, she was aware that her appearance caused a 
 sudden cessation in the hum of conversation which had 
 reached her ears as she was crossing the hall. 
 
 This surprise at the picture she made (she never dreamed 
 it was a tribute to her glowing comeliness) further un- 
 nerved her ; she was only recalled to herself by the gentle 
 greeting of her hostess, which was given as a band com- 
 menced to play. 
 
 Mrs. Baverstock was a delicate little woman, who looked 
 so frail that it seemed quite dangerous for her to be out 
 of doors, even on a fine summer's day. Otherwise, the 
 nobility and tenderness of her nature seemed to crown 
 her as with a halo : a deeply religious woman, she was one 
 of the few who practise in their daily lives the principles 
 of their belief. 
 
 She gave a thin hand, on which the blue veins protruded, 
 to Jeannie as she said : 
 
 " I'm so glad you have come, dear ; but we are so sorry 
 you have not brought yoiu: father." 
 
 Jeannie, while her hand was still held by Mrs. Baver- 
 stock, murmured how Joe had a previous engagement he 
 could not possibly break. She hated herself for telling 
 even a white lie to this sweet woman, and longed to take 
 her in her arms and kiss her kindly face. 
 
 But there was no time for thinking of such sentimental 
 indulgence. 
 
 Almost immediately, Jeannie, after smiling at Mabel 
 who, for all her finery, looked sulky, was introduced to 
 the latter' s father, when she was again taken aback by 
 the contrast he presented to his wife. 
 
52 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 At the first glance, he suggested to Jeannie, who had 
 lately read The Woman in White, "Count Fosco " : he had 
 a distinct, if somewhat unpleasing, personality. Reuben 
 Baverstock was tall, but scarcely appeared so by reason 
 of his broad, strong shoulders ; the increasing girth of the 
 region below the chest. 
 
 He had a big untidy head (the black hair had not as yet 
 changed colour) in which a big predatory nose with large 
 nostrils, and a broad obstinate chin were conspicuous : 
 although clean shaven, shaggy eyebrows were disposed to 
 conceal mean, greedy eyes, set too close together to inspire 
 confidence. 
 
 Before Jeannie had been talking to him two minutes, 
 she realised that, although his thick lips often parted in 
 a smile, never by any chance did his eyes follow their 
 example. 
 
 Baverstock's father had made his pile in boots, retailed 
 at an old-fashioned City boot shop ; he had married the 
 daughter of a successful restaurant proprietor, whose 
 chops and steaks had been much esteemed by members 
 of the London Stock Exchange in the forties and fifties. 
 
 The owner of " Pyracantha " was the sole result of this 
 match, and with the money he inherited he should, with 
 his keen business instincts, have been by way of being 
 wealthy. 
 
 But Baverstock was a man of some ideals, strong fleshly 
 appetites and, to him, a dangerous and unaccountable 
 artistic strain which occasionally manifested itself in 
 perverse ways. 
 
 He was passionately fond of the best music, and this 
 was a beneficent leaning, as he had been known to do kind 
 actions when under the influence of a recent s5^mphony 
 or concerto. 
 
 Where his temperament adversely affected him was in 
 an unaccountable fury for speculation which occasionally 
 possessed him. When under the influence of this mania, 
 this ordinarily shrewd business head would plunge with 
 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS 53 
 
 a recklessness that dismayed his friends and astonished 
 his colleagues. 
 
 He had a passion, that he indulged in secret, for fair 
 and frail women ; otherwise, he was the soul of courtesy 
 to his gentle wife, and according to his lights was a good 
 father to his three children : he was passionately eager 
 that his two sons should make material successes of their 
 lives. 
 
 He was a Stock Exchange jobber of the firm of Baver- 
 stock, Turk, & Creadle ; to the two latter Jeannie was 
 soon introduced. Turk was a loutish, taciturn, commonish, 
 self-made man, whose passion in life was to be taken for a 
 sportsman, although he had meagre qualifications for this 
 ambition. 
 
 While sport was possible, he spent many days at a 
 Norfolk hotel, where the charge of twelve shillings a day 
 included the rights of rough shooting over many acres, on 
 condition that all rabbits and game shot were the property 
 of the hotel proprietor, an almost unnecessary stipulation 
 so far as Turk was concerned. 
 
 Creadle was an insignificant little man, who essayed to 
 atone for his physical shortcomings by an elaborate get-up, 
 a pseudo dignity of manner and by the putting on of 
 endless, what is vulgarly known as, "side." When speak- 
 ing, he made use of elaborate gestures ; when listening, 
 he kept his eyes on his toes with a contemptuous 
 tolerance which often made those he was with itch to 
 kick him. 
 
 He was rich, he and a sister inheriting a fortune from 
 an uncle, which had originally been made in Lancashire 
 from the profits of child-labour (an iniquity contempor- 
 aneous with the evangelical revival), and this wealth, 
 together with his stupendous stock of natural vanity, 
 urged him to esteem himself of much importance in the 
 scheme of things. 
 
 When Turk was talking to Jeannie, he assumed what he 
 conceived his best sportsman's manner ; Creadle, when 
 
54 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 similarly occupied, thought what a lucky girl she was in 
 being flattered by his attentions. 
 
 Jeannie, beyond making civU replies, gave little heed 
 to the two men : she was wondering if, after all, Edgar 
 were present, while at the same time she feared that 
 Baverstock, who was watching her from under his shaggy 
 eyebrows, was reading her inmost thoughts. 
 
 Then, Mabel approached her, and Unking her arm in 
 hers, said : 
 
 " Awful rot this." 
 " Mabel ! " protested Jeannie. 
 " I think it's awfully slow : don't you ? " 
 " No. How can it be slow ? " 
 
 Mabel shrugged her ample shoulders, she being short 
 and stoutly built. 
 
 " Is Gertrude coming ? " asked Jeannie, while her eyes 
 roamed through the gardens in the hope of discovering 
 Edgar. 
 
 " She was asked, but refused. I can't make out what's 
 coming over her." 
 
 Just then, some man beckoned to Mabel, at which the 
 latter left Jeannie. 
 
 She was alone for a few moments, deeply conscious that 
 most of the men were furtively regarding her, when a 
 girl at Clarence College named Bessie Gibbs approached 
 her, to say : 
 
 " My pater wants to know you. This is Jeannie Pilcher." 
 
 The next moment, she was confronted with quite the 
 
 most objectionable old man she had ever met. Short, 
 
 obese, and with thick unpleasant lips, Mr. Gibbs' eyes 
 
 were greedily appraising her person. 
 
 " Shall we walk round the garden, dear Miss Pilcher ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Jeannie, who longed to escape from this objectionable 
 old man, saw nothing for it but to acquiesce, although 
 she hoped that Edgar might be discovered in their 
 progress. 
 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS 55 
 
 Much to her surprise, Mr. Gibbs deliberately conducted 
 her to a secluded corner of the garden. 
 
 " Have you seen Mr. Edgar Baverstock ? " asked 
 Jeannie presently. 
 
 " Eh ! No. I don't think he's here," repUed Mr. Gibbs. 
 
 Jeannie's heart sank : she did not say any more until 
 she discovered she was quite alone with Mr. Gibbs, 
 who, suddenly, laid a hand upon her arm, at which she 
 knew an instinctive sense of danger. 
 
 " Why have you brought me here ? " she asked. 
 
 " I want you to see some lovely lilies, dear Miss Pilcher. 
 It's only round this laurel hedge." 
 
 " I think I'd rather go back," she declared. The old 
 man's grip had tightened on her arm, and she perceived 
 how he was furtively looking about him as if to discover 
 who was in sight. 
 
 She was debating in her mind if she should free her arm 
 when, to her surprised delight, a breathless Edgar suddenly 
 appeared before her. 
 
 " Here you are ! I've been looking for you everywhere," 
 he exclaimed, while his face darkened at perceiving who she 
 was with. 
 
 Quick as thought, old Mr. Gibbs released his hold of 
 Jeannie ; with a lightning change of voice and manner, he 
 lifted his arms as he unctuously cried : 
 
 " What a beautiful, heavenly day 1 " 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 
 
 Jeannie was sensible of nothing beyond the fact that 
 Edgar, like the hero of a romantic novel, had appeared 
 opportunely in order to rescue her from an unpleasant 
 situation : gratitude shone in her eyes as she offered 
 her little hand : he did not take it, at which she perceived 
 he was glaring at Gibbs, who was making a dismal effort 
 to stroll away airily and unconcernedly. 
 
 " I've a good mind to punch his wicked old head," 
 remarked Edgar. " What did he say ? " 
 
 " He's a horrid old man," declared Jeannie. 
 
 " He's known for it. He shouldn't have been asked, 
 but he does a lot of business with the ' pater.' " 
 
 There was silence for a few moments, during which the 
 playing of a waltz by the string band was borne to their 
 ears ; at the same time, the scent of the lilies she had 
 been brought to see intoxicated their nostrils with a 
 languorous delight. 
 
 He had been about to express conventional regrets on 
 account of Joe's previous engagement, but in the twinkling 
 of an eye these were forgotten : he was possessed by a 
 reckless admiration for the girl at his side. 
 
 " How's Miranda ? " he asked. 
 
 Jeannie had been doing the Tempest that term, 
 so she was able to reply : 
 
 " Miranda's quite well : how's Caliban ? " 
 
 " Eh ! " 
 
 " I shouldn't have said that," she cried impulsively. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 57 
 
 " Not after you got me away from that old man." 
 
 He made as if he would speak, but changed his mind ; 
 although there was a sUence between them, neither of them 
 noticed it, both being enwrapped in delicious thought : 
 it was as if they had been enthralled by a spell that isolated 
 them from the rest of the world. 
 
 They were presently recalled to a practical present by 
 Mabel, who suddenly appeared, to say : 
 
 " Here you are, Edgar. Mother wants you. Emmeline 
 Greadle's asking for you." 
 
 Edgar made a gesture of impatience as he said : 
 
 " Tell her I'm coming." 
 
 " I'll say I haven't found you, if you like," suggested 
 Mabel, at which Jeannie quickly said : 
 
 " We're coming now." 
 
 As if to make good her words, she set off in the direction 
 of the house. 
 
 " There's no violent hurry," declared Mabel, disappearing 
 as quickly as she had come, at which her friend waited for 
 Edgar to catch her up. 
 
 " We shall see more of each other before the day is out," 
 said Edgar. 
 
 " Shall we ? " exclaimed Jeannie, in a noncommittal 
 voice. 
 
 " Don't you want to ? " 
 
 " I don't really know," confessed Jeannie artlessly : 
 she was bewildered by the emotions that were begotten 
 of Edgar's personality and companionship. 
 
 " If you don't want to talk to me again, don't hurry so." 
 
 " It's you who are hurrying," retorted Jeannie, who, 
 thinking she had said too much, hastened to add : " Father's 
 flowers are nothing like yours." 
 
 " He needn't grudge us ours," retorted Edgar quickly. 
 " Why not ? " asked Jeannie, in all innocence. 
 " One he possesses is beyond aU price," declared Edgar, 
 and in a manner that admitted no doubt as to his meaning. 
 Jeannie was minded to protest against the extravagant 
 
58 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 nature of the compliment, also, against the fact of its 
 being made, but she forbore, not only because her tongue 
 seemed incapable of speech but because the man's words 
 filled her unsophisticated heart with gladness. 
 
 They emerged from their seclusion and faced the batteries 
 of curious eyes when, as if to protect Jeannie from their 
 attack, Edgar conducted her to his mother, at which the 
 latter's sweet eyes rested with an immense tenderness upon 
 her son. 
 
 " Miss Creadle has been asking for you. She doesn't 
 want you to miss the duologue." 
 
 " I've been looking after Miss Pilcher," said Edgar. 
 
 " That's what I imagined." 
 
 Then Jeannie was sensible that she was being gently 
 but searchingly scrutinised by Mrs. Baverstock, who was 
 doubtless anxious to discover if the physically attractive 
 girl were worthy of her dearly loved son's attentions. 
 
 Apparently the result was satisfactory, for she smiled 
 encouragingly at Jeannie, and presently remarked : 
 
 " I am so sorry your father was unable to come." 
 
 " I am sorry too. I should like you to meet him." 
 
 " There's plenty of time for that." 
 
 " Of course," put in Edgar. 
 
 A few moments later, Jeannie was introduced to Emme- 
 line Creadle, who would not have been half a bad-looking 
 girl if she had not been possessed of a profile and been 
 conscious of the fact ; also, if she had not been so carelessly 
 turned out. This last was owing to her being an enthusi- 
 astic amateur actress, which urged her to ape the untidi- 
 ness of her professional sisters ; she had thrown on her 
 expensive clothes and had done her luxuriant black hair 
 anyhow ; her face was smothered in powder. 
 
 Jeannie's heart sank at the quickly made discovery 
 that rich Miss Creadle was enamomed of Edgar. She 
 had little time to indulge in gloomy thoughts for Miss 
 Creadle went out of her way to be agreeable to her, 
 
 " Of course you have acted ? " she began. 
 
JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 59 
 
 Jeannie confessed how she had not. 
 
 " Not ? How can you Hve ? I should positively die 
 if I did not act." 
 
 Jeannie shrugged her pretty shoulders. Miss Creadle 
 continued with raised voice so that those about her could 
 hear what she was saying : 
 
 " I'm doing A Pair of Lunatics and The Happy 
 Pair, this afternoon. I wanted to do Barbara, but my 
 pathos is so effective in Barbara I thought it a little 
 too sad for a garden party. Of course you know Barbara ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't." 
 
 Miss Creadle stared in stagey surprise at Jeannie : 
 presently, she turned the profile to her companion and 
 went on : 
 
 " I am anxious to persuade Edgar to act. He 
 says he has not time, but as he's a good memory, 
 I'm sure he'd be a quick study and never ' fluff ' his 
 ' lines.' I'm convinced he has the makings of a splendid 
 ' juvenile.' " 
 
 " ' Juvenile ' ! " queried Jeannie, who wondered what 
 Miss Creadle was driving at. 
 
 " A juvenile is an actor " (she emphasised the last 
 syllable) " who plays young men on the stage. He'd 
 be simply ideal as Philip in In Honour Bound." 
 
 Next, Miss Creadle ostentatiously produced a pocket 
 diary which, crowded with many rehearsal dates and very 
 occasional performing ones, was submitted to Jeannie for 
 examination. 
 
 The latter was profoundly bored by the amateur 
 actress's confidences : if not talking to Edgar or, perhaps, 
 his mother she was eager to be looking about her and for 
 a momentous reason. 
 
 Jeannie was eager to discover in what and in how much 
 she differed from the well-to-do folk of Edgar's world : 
 not only was she eager to learn, but to profit, if it were 
 possible, should she discern where she was lacking. 
 
 Presently, when Edgar was about to give her some tea, 
 
6o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 his intention was frustrated by Emmeline, who insisted on 
 his accompanying her to the improvised theatre where 
 her performances were to take place, but if Jeannie counted 
 on being able to make her social observations just then, 
 the fates had decided otherwise. Before Edgar followed 
 in the wake of the triumphant profile, he introduced 
 Jeannie to his elder brother, BeviU, who at once conducted 
 her to the tent where tea was set out. 
 
 Reuben Baverstock's heir was a broad-shouldered heavy 
 young man, whose eyebrows joined over his nose. He 
 was a solicitor by profession, but his ponderous conversa- 
 tion was not concerned with the law but with elementary 
 natural science. He got up his subject not so much with 
 the idea of imparting knowledge, as of proving his superi- 
 ority to those who suffered his information : needless to 
 say he was an arrant bore. 
 
 He welcomed Jeannie's company, and with scarcely any 
 preliminary started on the cause of morning and evening 
 dew, when it must be confessed that Jeannie, while pretend- 
 ing attention, was furtively observing the others gathered 
 in the tea tent. 
 
 This was not easy so far as most of the men were con- 
 cerned, for whenever Jeannie looked at any of these she 
 usually found they were more or less stealthily regarding 
 her. 
 
 She had naturally quick apprehensions, and these had 
 lately been stimulated by the social emulations of her 
 companions at Clarence College; it was not very long 
 before, despite Bevill Baverstock's droning (he had now 
 got on to physical geography), she had come to a conclusion 
 not only with regard to those about her in the tent, but' 
 also, the guests in the gardens, in which she presently 
 walked with her companion. 
 
 Jeannie was elated to discover that, with the exception 
 of Mrs. Baverstock, who was a gentlewoman, and, of course, 
 Edgar, those present were an undistinguished lot ; were it 
 not for their fine clothes, and the assurance begotten of 
 
JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 6i 
 
 middle-class pride of birth (no small asset in their opinion) 
 and prosperous businesses, they would have appeared third 
 rate. 
 
 Many of the men had predatory noses and loud ways, 
 while the young women, for aU that they were decorated 
 with the bloom of youth, were, in essentieils, the counter- 
 parts of their scarcely presentable mammas whom, with 
 the passing of the yecirs, they would be iacreasingly prone 
 to resemble. 
 
 Jeannie truly believed that, but for the difference in 
 worldly circumstances, her looks and natural refinement 
 would, with the adventitious aids of money, enable her to 
 outshine easily any of the women present. 
 
 As, with considerable unction, she hugged this con- 
 viction, she gradually became conscious of a feeling of 
 discomfort, which she presently discovered was caused 
 by the further scrutiny she was undergoing from the 
 owner of " Pyracantha " : it was as if he were coldly, 
 dispassionately appraising her and calculating if her 
 undoubted attractiveness were likely to be a factor of any 
 importance in the course he had marked out for his boys. 
 
 If Jeannie were disposed to underrate the fciscination 
 of her personality, a more likely contingency than the 
 contrary, Baverstock knew better : his own experience, 
 so far as women were concerned, providing sufficient en- 
 Hghtenment as to the lengths some men wiU go to win the 
 desire of their hearts. And if middle-age were susceptible, 
 how much more was impressionable, untried youth, whose 
 violent emotions were not chastened by experience and 
 material considerations. 
 
 Whatever his thoughts, he gallantly approached Jeannie, 
 and dismissing Bevih with a scarcely concealed contempt, 
 he asked if he might inflict himself upon her for a very few 
 minutes. 
 
 Upon her timidly acceding to his request, he went out of 
 his way to be so agreeable (he had had a lifelong experience 
 of every variety of female) that, in a very Uttle while, 
 
62 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Jeannie forgot she had ever entertained any semblance of 
 dislike for her companion. 
 
 " Do you want to see the acting ? " he asked presently. 
 
 " Not very much." 
 
 " Neither do I. And that means I can have a longer 
 talk with one of the most interesting women I have ever 
 met," he declared. 
 
 Jeannie's confusion at being paid such an extravagant 
 compliment enhanced her physical attractiveness, while 
 she wondered at what she had done to obtain Edgar's 
 father's regard. 
 
 "I'm sorry not to have met your father," he went on. 
 
 " I'm sorry too. He'd a previous engagement." 
 
 " Perhaps he doesn't get back till rather late." 
 
 " He's cdways home by two on Saturdays." 
 
 " Then he's in regular employment ? " 
 
 " Y — yes," faltered Jeannie, who, since she had attended 
 Clarence College, found it expedient to be reticent about 
 her father's occupation. 
 
 " Good berth ? " 
 
 " Fairly." 
 
 " City ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Lucky man. West End ? " 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 Jeannie's last reply was spoken with a touch of asperity 
 which told Baverstock how his fair companion had realised 
 she was being " pumped " : he quickly and adroitly 
 changed the subject. 
 
 While a Pair of Lunatics was being played by the 
 " profile " and an amateur actor who was employed by 
 the day in Somerset House, Baverstock took Jeannie into 
 a room where elaborate refreshments were set out ; here, in 
 a sudden excess of prodigality, he insisted on helping her 
 to the best of everything. 
 
 Jeannie, on looking about her, was surprised to see the 
 number of people who found champagne cup and pdte de foie 
 
JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 63 
 
 gras sandwiches more attractive than amateur acting ; 
 indeed, she noticed one couple tucking in as if for dear 
 life. 
 
 She was standing by a mountain of highly decorated 
 " trifle," on which these two had their eyes ; presently, 
 when Baverstock turned to say a few words to a bouncing 
 wench of eighteen, who frequently relapsed into " baby " 
 language, they advanced towards Jeannie before making an 
 onslaught on the dish. While they attacked the " trifle," 
 she was aware that they now and again intently regarded 
 her ; a little later, she was certain she was the object of 
 their loudly expressed remarks. 
 
 " Rather like Lady Jane Talboys," said the woman. 
 
 " More like her sister, I fancy," suggested the man. 
 
 " Lady Mary ! " 
 
 " Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Anyway, she has the Downminster colouring," de- 
 clared the man. 
 
 " And the Ccirriage of her head." 
 
 " And the glorious hair." 
 
 Jeannie was made so uncomfortable by these remarks 
 that she was relieved that the couple again assaulted the 
 " trifle," which they did independently of each other. 
 
 When they were presently able to talk, the woman 
 said : 
 
 " There's a gentleman here who's exactly like Colonel 
 Sir Edward Blackenhorn." 
 
 " I saw him going into the ' Naval and Military ' 
 yesterday afternoon," replied the other. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me ? " 
 
 " I forgot. Sorry." 
 
 Just then, Baverstock turned to Jeannie, and in so 
 doing encountered the gaze of the couple who had been 
 discussing her. 
 
 " Hullo, Reggie ! Hullo, Lucy ! " said Baverstock. 
 " Let me introduce you to Miss PUcher, a college friend of 
 
64 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 my daughter's." Turning to Jeannie, he added : " This 
 is my niece, Mrs. Hibling, and her husband." 
 
 " So glad to meet you," gushed Mrs. HibUng, as she 
 finished up her plate. " I was just saying to Reginald 
 how much you resembled Lady Jane Talboys." 
 
 " Lady Mary," said her husband, as his eye roamed 
 the tables in search of anything that might tickle his palate. 
 
 The discussion as to whom Jeannie most resembled in 
 the world of fashion being resumed at some length, she 
 had leisure in which to observe the Hiblings. 
 
 Reginald gave the impression of starting from a broad 
 base and gradually sloping upwards ; he had big and broad 
 boots, the appearance of sturdy legs and large hips, but 
 his narrow shoulders hopelessly " bottled," while his fore- 
 head almost came to a point : otherwise, he was dark with 
 uncertain coloured, envious eyes. 
 
 The wife of his bosom was a strong- jawed, capable-eyed 
 woman, who gave the impression of having a fine figure, an 
 advantage that scrutiny dispelled ; as if by way of counter- 
 balancing her husband, inspection proved her to be top- 
 heavy. 
 
 They had not long been married, and not being well off 
 had taken a flat (in reality half a house) at the Chelsea end 
 of Fulham, which latter had just begun to " develop." 
 
 The Hiblings made a great fuss of Jeannie, but she 
 had more than a suspicion that their enthusiasm was 
 largely due to a desire to cover further sorties against the 
 refreshments. 
 
 Some minutes later, she was excitedly sought by Edgar, 
 who said : 
 
 " What has become of you ? I kept a place for you 
 during the acting." 
 
 " I was with your father." 
 
 Edgar's face expressed surprise. 
 
 " Do you object ? " she continued. 
 
 " Why should I ? But let's take a walk round. All 
 the men here are asking to be introduced to you," 
 
JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 65 
 
 " Please don't," she quickly pleaded. 
 
 " Why ? Would you prefer being with me ? " 
 
 She did not answer ; he pressed for a reply, at which she 
 said : " 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 They walked the trim lawn, on a part of which croquet 
 was being perfunctorily played ; the well-kept gardens, 
 now crowded with a gaily dressed throng, the male portion 
 of which gazed admiringly, the women disdainfully at the 
 tall, fair girl Edgar was escorting ; indeed, if Jeannie had 
 had any doubts of the alluring picture she made, the envious 
 glances those of her own sex cast at her would have 
 reassured her. 
 
 There weis no mistaking the ardent nature of Edgar's 
 attentions ; words, glances, manner were all eloquent of the 
 deep impression she had made upon him. 
 
 For her part, she was entranced by the devotion of the 
 one man she had met who had ever stirred her emotions : 
 this, and the unexpected social consideration she had 
 received, filled her with an ecstatic happiness which seemed 
 to possess visibly her being. It was as if she walked in a 
 dream world which was scented with an exquisite fragrance 
 of romance. 
 
 During the evening theatricals, and other enter- 
 tainments, Edgar hardly ever left her side, and then only 
 when compelled. At first, his father's opposition to his 
 conduct expressed itself in asking him to do various things 
 which took him temporarily from her side ; but, at last, it 
 was as if the elder Baverstock were willing for once to make 
 a concession to Jeannie's appealing youth and comeliness^ 
 for he, presently, offered no objections to their being together. 
 
 When the sun went down, the gardens were gay with 
 Japanese lanterns, at which the younger people were pressed 
 to dance ; it was then that Jeannie enjoyed an unlooked- 
 for triumph. 
 
 All the dancing men crowded about her, eager to secure 
 her for a partner. 
 5 
 
66 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 This behaviour excited the indignation of the other 
 young women, who, in vain, pointed out to their brothers 
 how Jeannie's frock was probably home-made ; also, that 
 the lace decorating her pretty shoulders was doubtless 
 imitation. 
 
 But these young men, their emulation being excited, 
 would not have cared if Jeannie had been turned out in 
 sackcloth ; in the intervals between the dances, they 
 eagerly competed for the honour of her hand. 
 
 She danced as often as she dared with Edgar, who, when 
 not with her, stood by the " profile " when it was obvious 
 to Jeannie as she passed him that he had eyes only for 
 her. 
 
 At last, tired with happiness, she, still accompanied by 
 Edgar, followed in the wake of the departing guests to thank 
 her hostess for " the delightful time she had had " — words, 
 so far as she was concerned, that were spoken in all 
 sincerity. 
 
 " Who is going to see you home ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " I expected father." 
 
 " But he hasn't come. I was asking just now." 
 
 " He said — I hardly remember — that somethiag was 
 arranged." 
 
 " Something is arranged." 
 
 Her shining eyes looked inquiringly into his. 
 
 " I am going to see you home," he informed her. 
 
 Then, as she did not speak, he asked : 
 
 " Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Not very much." ' 
 
 It was when they were outside the front door that she 
 perceived a familiar tall hat which was just visible above 
 the palings ; she was too excited to try and recall its owner, 
 but when she and Edgar were outside the gate, she per- 
 ceived it belonged to Titterton, who, dressed in his best 
 as when he had come to tea, was forlornly waiting on the 
 pavement. 
 
 Jeannie was minded to speak to him and introduce him 
 
JEANNIE'S TRIUMPH 67 
 
 to Edgar, but when Titterton saw she was not alone, he 
 slunk away to the farther side of the road. 
 
 A moment later, Titterton, his unhappy appearance was 
 forgotten : she was fascinated by the man who walked at 
 her side. 
 
 Although little was said, their silence was eloquent, and 
 it seemed as if they had left " Pyracantha " but a very 
 few seconds when Edgar stood with her outside her father's 
 door. 
 
 She was quite unaware that she was dismally regarded 
 from a distance by a wretchedly jealous Titterton. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 ONE OF MANY VISITS 
 
 One October evening, when there was a hint of coming 
 winter in the air, Jeannie, Joe, and Edgar played dummy 
 whist in the cosy dining-room of " Laurel " Villa ; they 
 were not the only occupants of the room, for away by 
 the grandfather clock and standing on a chair was old 
 Rabbitt : he held a candle with which he peered into the 
 works the while he plentifully besprinkled them with 
 grease. 
 
 This was by no means the first visit Edgar had paid 
 the Pilchers, indeed, so frequent had they lately become 
 that they were now looked for as a matter of course : he 
 rarely came when Joe was absent, but should he call 
 when the former was at work, he was invariably accom- 
 panied by his sister. 
 
 During what was left of the long evenings, Edgar would 
 assist Joe in the little garden, and if there were a difference 
 of horticultural opinion, Jeannie was invariably at hand 
 to give a casting vote when, more often than not, she 
 decided in the visitor's favour, although it must be con- 
 fessed his knowledge of gardening could not for one 
 moment compare with her father's. 
 
 Whist was the staple occupation of the evenings indoors ; 
 sometimes Coop would look in and take a hand, when he 
 and Joe would easUy beat Jeannie and Edgar, who were 
 always partners on these occasions. 
 
 Of late, they had seen very little of Coop, who, to the 
 elder Baverstock's indignation, had bought the plot of 
 ground adjacent to " Pj^acantha," and was now engaged 
 
 68 
 
ONE OF MANY VISITS 69 
 
 with a variety of plans preparatory to building himself 
 a house. 
 
 Jeannie had now left Clarence College some months ; 
 when not busy with household matters, she assiduously 
 cultivated her violin and piano : it was as if she were 
 determined to make herself worthy of her acquaintance 
 with the Baverstocks and of her friendship with Edgar. 
 
 A week after the garden party, she had paid the in- 
 evitable formal caU when, to her keen disappointment, 
 she had been told that Mrs. Baverstock was not at home. 
 
 She had doubted the truth of this information, and 
 dismally put it down to a desire on the part of the family 
 to drop the acquaintance, until a letter had arrived from 
 Mrs. Baverstock regretting how she had been out when 
 Jeannie had called, and giving her the choice of two days 
 on which she would be in. 
 
 It was with the exercise of considerable restraint 
 that Jeannie had deferred her visit to the second of the 
 two days, when she had been more than ever moved by 
 the transparent goodness and loving-kindness of Edgar's 
 frail-looking mother. 
 
 The two women were alone ; although Jeannie frequently 
 offered to leave, she was pressed by Mrs. Baverstock 
 to prolong her stay, which she was only too glad to do 
 in the hope of seeing Edgar. 
 
 After tea, she had been conducted over the big, pre- 
 tentious house ; when she had inspected the principal 
 rooms, Mrs. Baverstock had said : 
 
 " Now, my dear, I like you so much that, if I may, I 
 will show you my treasures." 
 
 She then produced a key, at which Jeannie expected 
 that she was about to inspect a collection of valuables. 
 
 Her heart had warmed to the gentle woman when the 
 latter had unlocked the door of a room that contained 
 a headless rocking-horse and a number of dilapidated 
 toys, the playthings of her sons' and daughter's childhood. 
 
 When Jeannie had been reluctantly about to take her 
 
70 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 leave without having seen Edgar, Baverstock had arrived, 
 but he would not let the caller depart without a bunch of 
 flowers from the garden, which he had insisted on cutting 
 himself : Jeannie, at his wish, had accompanied him to 
 the various beds. 
 
 While his eyes rarely left Jeannie's person, on which 
 they rested with ill-concealed admiration, he had adroitly 
 turned the conversation to the subject of Edgar, when 
 he had casually mentioned how his son was practically 
 engaged to be married to rich Miss Creadle. 
 
 Jeaimie had resolved to postpone aU consideration of 
 this news until she got home : she had thanked the stock- 
 jobber for his roses, again kissed his wife (who had begged 
 her to call again), and was walking disconsolately away 
 when she heard some one nmning after her. 
 
 It proved to be Edgar, who, for all his reputed devotion 
 to the " profile," had seemed more than delighted to see 
 her, and had told her how he would have been home hours 
 ago in expectation of her visit but for the fact of his 
 having been compelled to look up an old Cambridge friend 
 who was on the point of going abroad. 
 
 He had insisted upon accompan3dng Jeannie home, 
 when he had been asked in by Joe ; he had stayed to 
 supper, and had needed no second invitation to call 
 again. 
 
 His visits so elated her that, for the time being, social 
 ambitions were forgotten. Neither Edgar nor Jeannie 
 ever mentioned Miss Creadle. 
 
 " Seen anything of Gertrude Stubbs ? " asked Edgcir, 
 after making the worst possible use of a magnificent hand 
 of triumphs. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Mabel was asking about her the other day." 
 
 " Sure it was Mabel ? " 
 
 " Not quite," smiled Edgar. 
 
 " Gertrude Stubbs ! Gertrude Stubbs ! " mused Joe, as 
 he shuffled the pack for the third time running. 
 
ONE OF MANY VISITS 71 
 
 " We used to walk home with each other from school/' 
 Jeannie reminded him. 
 
 " Ah yes ! That quite pretty girl with the pretty 
 wavy hair and the long, curled eyelashes." 
 
 " Joe always has an eye for the pretty girls," laughed 
 Jeannie. 
 
 " Naturally with such a plain daughter," said Edgar 
 solemnly, at which Joe laughed outright. 
 
 " Naturally. Has Mabel heard anything of Gertrude ? " 
 asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Nothing," replied Edgar. " Since she's taken up 
 with that rum-looking chap she's always about with, 
 we've seen nothing of her." 
 
 " Fancy wasting one's time on such an uninteresting 
 thing as a man," said Jeannie. 
 
 " We're so jolly fascinating you can't leave us alone," 
 retorted Edgar. " Isn't that so ? " he asked of Joe. 
 
 " That is so, sir. And it's yoiu: turn to deal." 
 
 Jeannie looked with a charming defiance at Edgar while 
 he served out the cards. 
 
 Further play was interrupted by a knock at the front 
 door, at which Joe's and Jeannie's eyes asked of each other 
 who the unexpected caller could be. 
 
 After the door was answered. Rose appeared, to say that 
 Mr. Styles would like a few words with Mr. PUcher. 
 
 Upon Joe's leaving the room, Edgar looked intently at 
 Jeannie before glaring at old Rabbitt, who, oblivious of 
 the other's anger, was still dropping grease on the clock 
 works. 
 
 " Who's Styles ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " My violin-master." ^ 
 
 " Lucky Styles," he murmured. 
 
 " He doesn't think himself lucky." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Listen and you'U know." 
 
 Joe had not closed the door when he had left the room, 
 consequently, they were able to overhear the conversation 
 
72 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 in the passage that was generally dignified with the name 
 of hall. 
 
 " Pardon this intrusion," said a soft, caressing voice. 
 " But I ventured to wonder if I. could trespass on your 
 generosity for a trifling loan of five shillings." 
 
 Edgar made as if he would speak to Jeannie but was 
 promptly told to " Ssh," at which they both saw that 
 Rabbitt was, also, listening from his chair. 
 
 The chink of money was heard in the haU, followed by 
 Styles saying : 
 
 " I thank you, sir." 
 
 " Good-night and welcome," exclaimed Joe. 
 
 " One moment ! Which would be the most convenient 
 way for you to receive back the money ? " 
 
 " Any way wiU do." 
 
 " I like to be precise in these matters. Shall I send it 
 by post-ofiice order or money order ? " 
 
 " Whichever you please." 
 
 " Those methods are sometimes unsatisfactory. Per- 
 haps, after all, I had better draw a cheque." 
 
 " Please yourself." 
 
 Mr. Styles seemed to consider for a moment before 
 saying : 
 
 " After aU, I think I'll send it by hand. I'll send it, 
 without fail, on Thursday evening next : and my daughter 
 Violet shaU bring it." 
 
 " As you please." 
 
 " On reflecting, I think I'd better send Ethel ; she's 
 more trustworthy. I am very much obliged to you. I 
 hope Miss PUcher is well." 
 
 " Quite, thank you," declared Joe. 
 
 " I think after aU, sir, I won't send the money by 
 Ethel," said Mr. Styles confidentially. " I'U tell you 
 what I'U do. I'll wrap it up in paper, drop it in the letter- 
 box, knock, and leave it for you to find." 
 
 " Very weU ; very weU," remarked Joe irritably ; he 
 was longing to get back to his whist. 
 
ONE OF MANY VISITS 73 
 
 " What do you think the weather will be to-morrow ? " 
 asked the musician. 
 
 While a molUfied Joe was giving his forecast, Jeannie 
 said to Edgar : 
 
 " He's a large family, and is very poor." 
 
 " No reason why he should sponge on your father." 
 
 " Do you know any one who would help him ? " 
 
 " See if he has any of his cards." 
 
 Jeannie stopped Mr. Styles as he was going out of the 
 front door, and brought him into the dining-room ; he 
 was a dapper, dark httle man, whose sly eyes were almond 
 shaped. 
 
 Jeannie was about to explain how Edgar might help 
 Mr. Styles to get pupils, when Mr. Rabbitt got down from 
 his chair and approached the young mistress of the house, 
 to say : 
 
 " My duty to you, miss. Have I your permission to 
 convey the remains of the candle to the kitchen ? " 
 
 " Certainly. But don't flirt with Rose." 
 
 " I don't think that's very likely, miss," declared a 
 shocked Mr. Rabbitt. 
 
 " And don't forget your account," put in Joe. 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I wiU take the liberty of mentioning 
 it before I go," said the clock repairer, as he left the room. 
 
 " If you have any cards, I'U give them to my friends," 
 Edgar informed the musician, who replied : 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I've none on me, but I'U give Miss 
 Pilcher some to give to you." 
 
 " Right. But let me give you a tip," suggested Edgar. 
 
 " By all means," said Mr. Styles, in his caressing, sOky 
 voice. 
 
 " We British ain't a musical nation, and it's no use 
 thinking we are. The only way to get hold of the public 
 is to make 'em believe you're foreign." 
 
 Mr. Styles fixed his sly eyes questioningly on Edgar, 
 who continued : 
 
 " I know what I should do if I were you and wanted 
 
74 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 pupils. I'd let my hair grow over my shoulders, call myself 
 Signor Stiletto say, and give myself out to be an Italian.'' 
 
 " What next ! " cried Jeannie, while in her heart she 
 was thinking how clever Edgar was. 
 
 " And as one may as well do the thing thoroughly, I 
 should, if you take on the idea, talk in broken English." 
 
 Jeannie looked at Mr. Styles in order to discover how 
 he had taken this extravagant advice ; to her considerable 
 surprise, she saw that, with his eyes on his boots, he was 
 intently listening to everything Edgar was saying. 
 
 Then, after thanking Edgar for his advice, he was 
 moving towards the door when his eye fell on the clock- 
 maker's tools. 
 
 " You employ Mr. Rabbitt ? " he asked of Joe, and 
 with a deprecatory inflection of voice. 
 
 " Have for years," replied the person addressed. 
 
 " Indeed ! Indeed ! " exclaimed the musician, with his 
 eyes on the ground. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? " asked Joe bluntly. 
 
 " Oh ! — well — perhaps — but still it isn't for me to say 
 anything against his skiU. I wish you all good evening." 
 
 " Little sneak ! " thought Jeannie, as the front door 
 slammed on departing Mr. Styles. 
 
 " I wonder if he'll take my advice," mused Edgar. 
 
 " Shouldn't be surprised," replied Joe. " He listened 
 with all his ears." 
 
 Five minutes later, Joe was asking of Rabbitt : 
 
 " How much ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, I thought one-and-sixpence or two shillings." 
 
 When he had pocketed Joe's two shillings, he ventured 
 to inquire. 
 
 " Was that a Mr. Styles ? " 
 
 " The musician," replied Joe. 
 
 "Indeed, sir. I understood he was merely a piano- 
 tooner." 
 
 " Haven't you heard of him as a teacher of music ? " 
 asked Jeannie. 
 
ONE OF MANY VISITS 75 
 
 " Perhaps I have, miss, but I can't say as I've heard 
 him spoken of very 'ighly." 
 
 " I'm glad I was here when they came," said Edgar, 
 when meagre Mr. Rabbitt had, as it were, faded from the 
 room. 
 
 " Why, sir ? " asked Joe. 
 
 " I shall always know where to come if ever I get stoney, 
 which, so far as I can see, is very likely." 
 
 " Joe is like that," said Jeannie, as she kissed her father's 
 forehead. 
 
 " Lucky Joe," murmured Edgar, at which Jeannie, 
 for no reason at all, flushed to the tips of her ears. 
 
 Meantime, the game had been renewed, eagerly by 
 Joe, perfunctorily by Jeannie and Edgar. 
 
 Presently, Edgar asked if he could take Miss Pilcher to 
 a theatre. 
 
 "That's for Jeannie to decide," replied Joe, who noticed 
 how her eyes had brightened at the suggestion. " And it 
 was only last week that Titterton had some orders and 
 wanted to take her." 
 
 " Titterton ? Titterton ? " queried Edgar. 
 
 " One of Jeannie's admirers." 
 
 " Why didn't you go ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " I had another engagement," she replied casually, the 
 while she furtively, but none the less eagerly, watched him 
 to see how he weis affected by this piece of information, 
 when she was deeply gratified at noticing that he was lost 
 in uncomfortable thought. 
 
 A little later he said : 
 
 " Some one was asking after you the other day." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " A couple you met at the garden party : the Hiblings ; 
 they're cousins." 
 
 " I remember." 
 
 " Rum couple." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " You'd think so, too, if you saw much of them. Mad 
 
76 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 on society. They know all the big people by sight. And 
 they hang about Bond Street and Piccadilly in the season, 
 and Buckingham Palace when there's a Drawing-Room, 
 so they can see those they are able to recognise." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " exclaimed Joe. 
 
 " I'll tell you more about 'em some day. I used to 
 wonder and wonder at them, but now I give it up." 
 
 " Why do they do it ? " asked Joe. 
 
 " That's just it ! Why ? If they got any fun out of it 
 I could understand. But I believe they're eaten up with 
 envy of those they can't mix with, and that's why they're 
 sometimes so jolly miserable." 
 
 When Joe had easily won the rubber, he, according to 
 custom, went and stood on the doorstep for a few minutes, 
 in order to get a blow, a proceeding for which Jeannie 
 and Edgar were profoundly grateful : as if moved by a 
 common impulse, they drew their chairs before the 
 fire. 
 
 There was a silence for some minutes, during which 
 Jeannie seemed to be transported from her homely sur- 
 roundings to a world of intoxicating isolation from the 
 common cares of life, and one in which the very air she 
 breathed was redolent of the quintessence of romance. 
 
 She was recalled to a recognition of workaday hfe by 
 Edgar, who asked in rather a hard voice : 
 
 " Who's Titterton ? " 
 
 " A friend." 
 
 " Are you going to marry him ? " 
 
 " Marry him ! Why should I ? " 
 
 " Why shouldn't you ? " 
 
 " He hasn't asked me." 
 
 " Would you, if he did ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " The best of all reasons : I don't love him," said 
 Jeannie simply. 
 
 There was a further silence which, so far eis Jeannie 
 
ONE OF MANY VISITS 77 
 
 was concerned, was made sweet by reason of the other's 
 apprehensions concerning Titterton. 
 
 As before, Edgar was the first to speak. 
 
 " I've no business to come here," he began. 
 
 " You've said that before," she said, in a low voice. 
 
 " The more I see of you, the more I reahse how alluring 
 and wonderful you are — yoii never look the same twice — 
 and I've no business to keep seeing you as I do." 
 
 " Then why do you ? " 
 
 " I can't help myself, Jeannie," he declared miserably. 
 
 " It — it can't be very difhcult if you try hard," she 
 hazarded. 
 
 " That's all you know." 
 
 " Are you weak-minded then ? " 
 
 " I am where you're concerned." 
 
 A little later, he said : 
 
 " One thing I'm more than grateful for." 
 
 " And that ? " 
 
 " Whatever I do, whether I come or whether I don't, 
 it can't matter two pins to you." 
 
 Jeannie, who only needed a little pressure from Edgar to 
 follow him to the ends of the world, was too agitated to 
 reply : she involuntarily uttered a little sigh, and managed 
 to disguise it by turning it into a cough. 
 
 For his part, he looked keenly at her before saying : 
 
 " In all these things, Jeannie, one wants to be one's 
 own master, a thing I am not." 
 
 She looked straight before her into the fire ; he went 
 on ■ 
 
 " As you know, I'm reading for the Bar. And even if 
 one succeeds, it's a great many years before one feels one's 
 feet." 
 
 " So you've told me before," said Jeannie mechanic- 
 aUy. 
 
 " I want to make my position clear," he declared 
 plaintively, to add : "Of course, in a certain — what shall 
 I say ? — in a certain eventuahty things might be different ; 
 
78 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 I might get on quickly, but that's not a thing I can think 
 of when I'm with you." 
 
 Jeannie, who divined he was referring to rich Miss 
 Creadle, held her peace. After a moment or two's thought, 
 he continued : 
 
 " I often think the pater isn't so well off as he seems, 
 and that all the money he spent on ' Pyracantha ' was 
 simply so much bluff." 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " 
 
 " He admires you awfuUy," he declared, before becoming 
 aware of her question. " Eh ! He's always talking about 
 getting hold of money if one can, but that may be because 
 he's getting meaner in his old age." 
 
 It was not very long before he returned to the subject 
 of his prospects. 
 
 " Of course, I know I could always go into the City," 
 he went on. " But I'm not over keen on that." 
 
 " Of course not," assented Jeannie, who believed Edgar 
 was cut out by nature and temperament for something 
 much less prosaic than the course suggested. 
 
 " It isn't that I give myself airs and all that, but I've 
 had the worst education in the world for that sort of thing. 
 The ' pater,' as I've told you before, sent me to Cambridge, 
 and I've more or less idled since I came ' down.' The sort 
 of time I've had is the best education of one's five hundred 
 a year of one's own." 
 
 " And yet I'm not altogether without hope," he said, 
 a little later. " I ought to get on somehow, and do you 
 know why ? " 
 
 Jeannie, who was quite of his opinion, looked at him 
 with shyly inquiring eyes. 
 
 " I'm a good listener, pretty Jeannie, and don't you 
 forget it, although I'm doing aU the talking now." 
 
 " A good listener ? " she queried. 
 
 " Yes. And that's a wonderful asset as thin gs go nowa- 
 days when every one is more or less of a talker. Take my 
 brother, Bevill, for instance. He bores people to death 
 
ONE OF MANY VISITS 79 
 
 witb his elementary science, but I know better. I listen. 
 Listeners are very scarce nowadays, and that's why people 
 like me." 
 
 Joe came in just then and prevented further confidential 
 discussion. 
 
 A few minutes later, Rose entered to lay the supper, at 
 which Jeannie, without making any bones about what she 
 was going to do (her unaffected simplicity the more en- 
 deared her in Edgar's eyes), went out to cook the supper, 
 which, to-night, happened to be veal cutlets. 
 
 She had hardly left the room when Edgar followed her 
 to the kitchen, intent on giving a hand, at which Jeannie, 
 after arranging her pretty person in a big white apron, 
 insisted upon his doing likewise. 
 
 At supper, Joe was in high spirits : he spoke of his early 
 days when he had been an ardent first nighter, particularly 
 at a certain old theatre in the Strand which has been one 
 of those devoted to throwing incense upon the so-called 
 " sacred lamp of burlesque." 
 
 He recalled enthusiastically names that were now but 
 memories, and fading ones at that ; old songs ; older 
 jokes, the latter of which seemed mildewed with the 
 passing of the years. These theatrical recollections so 
 elated him that when the meal was over he ventured on 
 his favourite story. 
 
 " A Mr. Kenny once had a dinner-party, when the 
 butler in opening the sherry left some of the cork in the 
 bottle," he began. 
 
 Jeannie hstened attentively, devoutly hoping her 
 father would not go astray. 
 
 " Mr. Kenny, in drinking the wine, got a piece of cork 
 in his throat, at which one of the guests remarked, ' That's 
 not the way for — the way for ' " 
 
 " Cork," prompted Jeannie. 
 
 "Thank you, Jeannie. I got it wrong. Mr. Kenny, 
 in drinking the wine, got a piece of cork in his throat, at 
 which one of the guests remarked, ' That's not the way 
 
8o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 for Cork.' ' No. That's not the way for Cork,' declared 
 another. ' It's the way to Kill Kenny." " 
 
 Joe joined heartily in the laughter with which Edgar 
 and Jeannie greeted the story, although it must be con- 
 fessed that the latter wondered if her father's anecdote 
 were not a trifle homely for the sophisticated Edgar. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 
 
 ' I LOVE you, Jeannie. I know I'm poor, and oughtn't 
 to think you'd ever put up with that to live with me. But 
 I love you, and can't help asking you to marry me some 
 day." 
 
 The speaker was Mr. Titterton ; he had waylaid Jeannie 
 on a November Saturday afternoon when on her way to 
 take tea with the Miss Hitches in response to an invitation 
 she could no longer neglect : the railway clerk was dressed 
 in his best for the occasion. 
 
 For her part, she was so taken aback by this unexpected 
 declaration that, for a considerable time, she was at a loss 
 for words : he, mistaking her silence for tacit encourage- 
 ment, went on : 
 
 " You may as well know the worst, and then it can't be 
 said I've ever deceived you about my position. I've 
 sixty pounds a year, and hope to get seventy in a couple 
 of years, and I've small expectations from my father. I 
 know it isn't much, but lots of them in the ' G.W.' are 
 married on that, and get along somehow." He paused for 
 breath, while Jeannie was not insensible to a feeling of pride 
 at receiving an offer, however unacceptable, of marriage. 
 
 With a growing agitation, which was perceptible in his 
 voice, Titterton continued : 
 
 " And I'm not so poor as I seem. When one's married, 
 
 the ' G.W.' let you have butter and coals cheap and " 
 
 He stopped short. He had realised the incongruity of 
 associating such sordid matters either with beautiful 
 Teannie or the ardour of his romantic passion. 
 6 
 
82 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 They walked in silence, during which he screwed up 
 his courage to say more, while Jeannie wondered how 
 best to refuse her suitor without doing hurt to his feelings. 
 
 " I'd — I'd even emigrate to Canada if I thought you'd 
 wait till I could make a home," he faltered. 
 
 " Don't say any more," said Jeannie, at which Titterton 
 looked at her with dull, despairing eyes. " Don't say 
 any more," she continued, and then as she saw how he 
 was still about to speak : " Please, please don't. It's all 
 impossible." 
 
 He stopped short, and looked so abjectly miserable that 
 she was moved to soften the blow she was compelled to give 
 his hopes. 
 
 " If you're not in a hurry, you might go a little way 
 with me," she began : it gave her a vague pleasure to 
 notice how the hint of the briefest reprieve to the sentence 
 of despair she had passed upon him sufficed to raise ridicu- 
 lously his spirits. 
 
 He talked excitedly, disconnectedly, of men who, in- 
 spired by such a love as he had for Jeannie, had achieved 
 great things in face of insuperable obstacles : of how he 
 had loved her from the first moment he had caught sight 
 of her when with her father in Clarence Lane. 
 
 Presently, they turned into the road in which the 
 Miss Hitches lived. Jeannie was thinking it time to tell 
 him as gently as possible how she could not accept 
 his offer because she did not love him, when she saw Edgar 
 approaching. 
 
 She stopped dead ; the colour heightened in her cheeks ; 
 her gaze was held helplessly by the man who was advancing. 
 
 Titterton noticed her confusion ; with the intuition of 
 the man in love, he perceived a deeper reason for her 
 embarrassment than appeared on the surface : he looked 
 miserably from Jeannie to Edgar, and furtively lifted 
 his hat before slinking shamefacedly away. 
 
 " Who's the duke ? " asked Edgar, as he reached Jeannie 
 
 " A friend." 
 
LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 83 
 
 " Do I know him by name ? " 
 
 " Mr. Titterton." 
 
 He said nothing ; his face clouded, at which she asked : 
 
 " Do you know any one in this road ? " 
 
 " Not a soul." 
 
 " How is it I met you ? " 
 
 " Didn't you tell me you were going to look up two old 
 girls who live here this afternoon ? " 
 
 " And if I did ! " 
 
 " Well " 
 
 " WeU " 
 
 " Here I am." 
 
 " You wanted to see me ? " she asked, after a pause. 
 
 " Badly." 
 
 " If — if you've anything to ask me, don't stand here 
 or it will be noticed. I'll walk on a little way." 
 
 " That's very sweet of pretty Jeannie." 
 
 " Well " she said,as they turned into a larger thorough- 
 fare. 
 
 " Don't be in such a hurry. If I ask you what I want, 
 you'U either say ' yes ' or ' no ' and then I shall lose you." 
 
 " You'll soon lose me in any case. I'm expected at my 
 friends'." 
 
 " I was going to ask you if I could ask your father if I 
 might take you to a theatre this evening." 
 
 Jeannie's heart leapt. 
 
 " Why have you decided to ask me so suddenly ? " 
 
 " I've wanted to for ages, but didn't because " 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Many reasons." 
 
 She was about to question him with regard to these, when 
 they perceived Mr. Styles come from a house a Uttle farther 
 along the road, and walk in the direction in which they were 
 going. 
 
 " There's little Styles," said Edgar. 
 
 " Signor Styletto, please," corrected Jeannie. 
 
 She spoke truly. To the astonishment of the neighbour- 
 
84 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 hood, Styles had taken Edgar's advice : not only had he 
 Italianised his name but, so far as it was possible, he had 
 altered his appearance so as to be in keeping with his pro- 
 fessed nationality ; long hair fell over his collar, while a 
 twirly moustache decorated his swarthy face. Nor was 
 this all. His two grown-up daughters, doubtless with a 
 view to securing local notoriety, eagerly supported their 
 father in the part he was playing : they wore large ear- 
 rings, did their hair in what they believed was a Latin 
 fashion, and dressed in crude, garish colours, while they 
 spoke in broken Cockney English. They were an indifferent 
 imitation of the blowsy ItaUan women who play piano- 
 organs in the street or tell fortunes with the assistance 
 of caged birds. 
 
 Although " Styletto's " appearance was greeted by 
 irreverent boys with shouts of " hokey-pokey," he did not 
 mind in the least : he had what is known as " caught on," 
 and was so well-to-do that he had repaid Joe the many 
 small sums he had borrowed. 
 
 When Jeannie had told her friend how deeply " Styletto " 
 was in his debt, it was decided that Joe should be asked 
 if there were any objection to his daughter's going to a 
 theatre on that evening ; also, that Edgar was to return 
 in an hour and wait near the Miss Hitches' till Jeannie 
 should be free. 
 
 Even when this was settled, they did not immediately 
 separate ; as if possessed by mutual forces of attraction, 
 they continued to speak of anything and everything for 
 quite a long time. 
 
 When Jeannie at last got to the Miss Hitches', she found 
 a substantial tea awaiting her in the dining-room ; although 
 she was plied with questions respecting her health, her 
 father's, her infrequent visits, it was as much as she could 
 do to make coherent rephes, so excited was she by reason 
 of Titterton's proposal ; her unexpected meeting with 
 Edgar ; the possibility of her accompanying him to a 
 theatre. 
 
LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 85 
 
 The Miss Hitches' appearance and surroundings were, 
 also, so alien to the romantic complexion of her emotions 
 that she was not a little j arred by the petty, albeit genteel, 
 atmosphere of her hostesses. 
 
 Laura and Elsie Hitch so resembled each other that 
 it was difificult to distinguish them ; as if to assist the 
 possibility of confusion, they dressed exactly alike. They 
 were tall, thin, angular, middle-aged, and each had little 
 snub noses which, from perpetual rubbing, owing to end- 
 less colds, were red and shiny. 
 
 It was only after comparing them in varying circum- 
 stances that it was possible to discover how Laura's bones 
 were a trifle less insistent than Elsie's ; but so far as their 
 dispositions were concerned, they seemed to be cast in 
 those immutable moulds in which a pair of sisters has 
 been fashioned since the world began, and of which Martha 
 and Mary in Holy Writ are the best-known examples. 
 
 Although they were both simple, nervous, credulous, 
 kindly, superstitious women, Laura was fussy and the 
 harder minded, while Elsie stood for the joy of life, so far 
 as such a phase of existence can apply to those whose 
 days were as constrained as those of the two spinsters. 
 
 They never walked under a ladder, and avoided the 
 beginning of any enterprise upon a Friday ; indeed, so 
 far as this day of the week was concerned, it was rumoured 
 that, should it fall on the thirteenth of the month, they 
 would pass the day in bed for fear of evU befalling them. 
 
 The one startling adventure of their lives was when 
 away on a holiday they had been frightened by cows. 
 
 Their personality, if such a word can apply to such 
 unassuming females, was reflected in the tasteless formality 
 of the room. Jeannie had not been seated three minutes, 
 when she saw Laura glancing nervously at her boots. 
 
 " It's rather muddy out, is it not, dear ? " she asked. 
 
 " It is a bit," replied Jeannie carelessly. 
 
 " Are your feet wet ? " asked Elsie. 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
86 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " If they are, dear, take them ofE and wear a pair of 
 my slippers while they dry." 
 
 " Don't bother. I'm all right," d-eclared Jeannie, while 
 she thought the minutes that must elapse before she 
 again saw Edgar would never pass. 
 
 While her sister had been talking, Laura had obtained 
 a folded newspaper from a side table ; she now placed 
 it on the floor beside Jeannie. 
 
 " I think you would be wise, dear, to put your feet on 
 this. And it will keep them warm." 
 
 Jeannie thanked her friend for the attention, but 
 immediately after she had done so it occurred to her that 
 Laura Hitch had been more actuated by a desire to save 
 her carpet than to minister to her guest's comfort. 
 
 Jeannie, contrary to habit, made an indifferent meal ; 
 when her mind was not dwelling on the day's eventful 
 happenings, she had an idea that the sisters were narrowly 
 watching her, and this suspicion made her self-conscious. 
 
 Very soon, her intuitions, which her excited condition 
 had sharpened, told her how her hostesses were clumsily 
 piloting the conversation in the direction of the Baverstock 
 family. 
 
 Once the meal was interrupted by Laura getting up 
 and picking a hairpin, a morsel of paper, and a tiny bit 
 of ribbon from the floor, saying as she did so : 
 
 " Excuse me, dear, but these are little bits of Elsie." 
 A reference on Laura's part to the house Mr. Coop was 
 building on the plot of ground adjacent to " Pyracantha " 
 was followed by Elsie remarking : 
 
 " I suppose, dear, you can see the preparations from 
 Mr. Baverstock's garden." 
 
 " It's such a long time since I've been in it," retorted 
 Jeannie as she strived not to blush. 
 
 " Indeed ! Is that so ? " asked Laura. " Ahem ! We 
 understood " 
 
 Jeannie changed the subject with such abruptness that 
 the spinsters, fearing they had been too precipitate, made 
 
LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 87 
 
 mention of a, to them, adventurous excursion to Whiteley's, 
 which led to Elsie's remarking how Mr. Whiteley, in 
 describing himself as the " Universal Provider," was as 
 good as his word : she followed this assertion with a 
 rambling story of his even getting a customer, who doubted 
 his ability to obtain anything that might be wanted, 
 a white elephant from distant Burmah. 
 
 Then, by way of entertaining Jeannie, a search was 
 made for a mislaid letter from a friend, which described 
 how she went over a biscuit factory at Reading where, 
 wonder of wonders, the privileged visitors could help 
 themselves to as many newly made biscuits as they could 
 tackle. 
 
 The letter was discovered in a small writing-case ; when 
 it was handed to Jeannie, it was inadvertently accompanied 
 by the prospectus of an advertising " bucket shop." 
 
 Directly Elsie caught sight of the letter, she almost 
 snatched it from Jeannie, and put it out of sight. 
 
 Then, the subject of Gertrude Stubbs and her handsome 
 admirer was timorously broached by Laura, and more 
 by way of serving as a warning to Jeannie than providing 
 a means of conversation, at least, so the latter thought. 
 
 She retorted that Gertrude Stubbs, as well as any other 
 sensible girl, could be trusted not to make a fool of herself, 
 but this time the two sisters were not so easily diverted 
 from their purpose : they insisted at length on the ad- 
 visability of young ladies consulting their parents on all 
 matters pertaining to the bestowal of their affections. 
 
 Jeannie attempted to talk of something else, but although 
 kindly Elsie faltered, Laura showed unusual determination 
 in sticking to the subject on which she had embarked ; 
 this persistence exhausted Jeannie's obstinacy ; she let 
 her two friends chatter as they listed, while she thought 
 of Edgar and of how soon she would be able to join 
 him. 
 
 When she, presently, got on to her feet, her hostesses 
 begged her to prolong her stay ; seeing she was determined. 
 
88 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 they parted from her with many little tendernesses, they 
 being really fond of the unaffected girl. 
 
 She found Edgar impatiently kicking his heels at the 
 end of the road in which the Miss Hitches lived ; by the 
 glad expression of his face, she divined how her father had 
 consented to her going to the theatre, an impression 
 Edgar speedily confirmed, telling her, at the same time, 
 how she was to please herself as to whether or not she 
 dressed. 
 
 At seven o'clock that evening, Edgar called for Jeannie, 
 who, arrayed in her one simple evening frock, excitedly 
 awaited him. She took a hurried leave of Joe, and in 
 a very few moments was walking in the direction of the 
 station when, to her surprise, Edgar hailed a passing 
 hansom. She protested, but before she could say very 
 much, she was seated by Edgar and speeding in the direction 
 of London. 
 
 " Why did you object to a hansom ? " he asked. 
 
 " The extravagance ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Extravagance ! " 
 
 " Dreadful ! " 
 
 He looked at her in surprise before saying : 
 
 " Then Jeannie could make a poor man's wife after all." 
 
 She dropped her eyes, at which he asked : 
 
 " Wouldn't she ? " 
 
 " Who am I that I should expect to marry any one 
 else ? " 
 
 " Jeannie is so rare and charming that she could marry 
 whom she pleased," he cried. " Aren't you aware of 
 that ? " 
 
 " It wouldn't make any difference to Jeannie if any one, 
 as you call it, did want to marry her." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because " 
 
 " Well " he exclaimed impatiently, as she hesitated. 
 
 " Because it's a matter on which Jeannie intends to 
 please herself." 
 
LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 89 
 
 Her admission surprised him : he seemed as if he were 
 about to address her ardently ; then, with much of an 
 effort, he appeared to control himself before speaking in 
 the manner of one who wishes to change an inconvenient 
 subject. 
 
 " How did you get on this afternoon ? " he asked. 
 
 It was some moments before she was able to fix her 
 mind on the more recent events of the day : even then, 
 she was undecided as to which he was referring. 
 
 " When ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Those friends you went to tea with ! " 
 
 She made disconnected references to her call, but made 
 a point of mentioning the " bucket shop " prospectus 
 which had been inadvertently revealed. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried Edgar. " They're the sort 
 of fools those sharks prey on. You'd better warn them, 
 and as soon as possible." 
 
 " They mightn't like it." 
 
 " They'd like it still less if they lost everything they've 
 got." 
 
 " Is that possible ? " 
 
 " Dear innocent Jeannie ! Those chaps who circularise 
 spinsters and curates know how keen many of 'em are on 
 a bit of a flutter in order to add to their incomes. They 
 appeal, and only too successfully, to the greed that's in 
 all of us, more or less." 
 
 " I'm not greedy," declared Jeannie, who was now 
 thoroughly enjoying her unaccustomed ride in a hansom. 
 
 " I know you're not, and do you know why ? " he asked, 
 with a return to his former ardent manner. 
 
 " Tell me." 
 
 " Because you're perfect." 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm very far from perfect," she sighed. 
 
 " What makes you say that ? " 
 
 " If I were, I shouldn't be enjoying this dreadful dis- 
 sipation so much." 
 
 He smiled, at which she cried : 
 
90 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Now you're laughing at me." 
 
 He thought for a moment before declaring gravely : 
 
 " It's all much, much too serious to laugh at." 
 
 She glanced at him with a timid apprehension, at which, 
 as if once more desirous of changing an inconvenient 
 subject, he said : 
 
 " There's been rather a bother at home." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Jeannie, as the lights in the gay 
 street through which they were now speeding seemed to 
 dim. 
 
 " It's with Mabel," he went on. 
 
 Jeannie was convinced her eyes had played her some 
 trick, for the street suddenly presented its normal bright 
 appearance. 
 
 " I don't know whether it's because father has rather 
 spoiled her, or what, but she's very headstrong." 
 
 " Indeed ! " remarked Jeannie, who was striving to be 
 interested in her old school-friend's behaviour. 
 
 " Sometimes it seems as if nothing pleases her, and it 
 worries the mater awfully." 
 
 " I'm sorry." 
 
 " It's all right when I'm at home, because if I speak to 
 her she's keen on pleasing me, indeed, I believe she'd do 
 anything in the world for me ; but when I'm away, she 
 becomes unbearable." 
 
 A few minutes later, they arrived at the entrance to 
 one of London's fashionable playhouses when, to Jeannie's 
 surprise, they were shown into a box near the stage on 
 the first tier. 
 
 On the few occasions on which Jeannie had been to the 
 theatre before, she had been accompanied by Joe and, after 
 a weary wait outside the doors, they had struggled into 
 the pit : after the performance, they had gone home in a 
 bus, the means of locomotion by which they had journeyed 
 to the playhouse. 
 
 To-night, the comfort in which she had come, the 
 luxurious privacy of a box, the obsequious attendants, 
 
LOVE AND HOKEY-POKEY 91 
 
 the privileged position she occupied in the eyes of the less 
 fortunate playgoers, perhaps, above all, Edgar's company, 
 together with the distinguished figure he cut in evening- 
 dress, bewildered her. 
 
 But not for long. She possessed an amazing facility 
 for adapting herself to her surroundings ; after a time, she 
 succeeded in beheving how her lot had always been cast 
 in such pleasant ways, and that she had never by any 
 chance been a unit in the serried ranks of the common- 
 place pit. 
 
 She greatly enjoyed the play ; the ices and chocolates 
 with which Edgar stuffed her : while she was impatient 
 with him on account of his paying more attention to her 
 than to the stage, she appreciated him the more on account 
 of his sophisticated indifference to the performance. 
 
 When, at last, they came out into the crowded Strand, 
 they had some difficulty in securing a cab ; when, tired 
 from excitement, she was seated in the hansom an attendant 
 had secured, and had driven a little way, she shivered 
 slightly from cold. 
 
 In a moment Edgar, who had been sitting rigidly beside 
 her, the more carefully arranged her cloak, and in so doing 
 passed his arm about her waist. 
 
 Physical contact with Edgar had the effect of suddenly 
 reducing Jeannie to helplessness ; she leaned her golden 
 head upon his shoulder ; he, nothing loth, tightly gripped 
 her with his arm, the while he sternly looked before him 
 into the night. 
 
 Thus they travelled home, she in a world of slightly 
 weary but none the less ecstatic enchantment, he sUently, 
 apparently intently, regarding the night. 
 
 Edgar stopped the cab a few minutes' walk from " Laurel 
 Villa," in order to have " a little longer with pretty 
 Jeannie," as he declared, at which, although it was in the 
 nature of a shock to discover herself in famUiar Putney, 
 Jeannie resolved to ignore this fact for so long as it was 
 possible. 
 
92 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Wholly engrossed in each other, they walked reluctantly 
 in the direction of Jeannie's home, when Edgar's presence 
 enabled her to maintain the luxurious illusions in which 
 she had wantoned during the evening. 
 
 Suddenly, and without warning, these were dispelled by 
 the fact of her perceiving her father's face peering anxiously 
 in the direction in which he expected his daughter : the 
 awakening gave her something in the nature of a shock ; 
 in spite of herself, she found herself staring at him with 
 coldly inquiring eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! Here you are ! " he exclaimed, with an in. 
 different assumption of surprise, while his face expressed 
 the immense relief he knew. 
 
 " Here I am ! " declared Jeannie irritably ; she re- 
 sented her father's intrusion into her dream world. 
 
 " I've just been to post a letter," he remarked, by way 
 of explaining his presence in the street at that late hour. 
 " I hope you've both enjoyed yourselves." 
 
 When Edgar had taken his leave, and Jeannie was in- 
 doors with her father, she replied to his questions respect- 
 ing the evening with none too gracious monosyllables. 
 
 After she had got into bed, mingled with the more 
 rapturous memories of the evening, were vague regrets 
 for her coldness to her father, at which she endeavoured 
 to excuse herself for her behaviour by reflecting that Joe's 
 unnecessary anxiety for her safe return had made her look 
 small in Edgar's eyes. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 NEW YEAR'S EVE 
 
 On the last day of the year, Jeannie came upon her father, 
 who was in animated conversation with the two Miss 
 Hitches in the High Street, at seven in the evening : she 
 wondered what had taken the two sisters out of doors 
 at that, for them, late hour. 
 
 She was about to speak to her friends when Joe, ap- 
 parently in some heat, took a hasty leave of them and 
 motioned Jeannie to accompany him in the direction of 
 home. 
 
 " What is it, father ? " she asked, as she glanced back 
 at the two sisters, who were excitedly putting their heads 
 together. 
 
 " Too bad ! Too bad ! I'm so angry I can hardly 
 speak." 
 
 " Joe ! " exclaimed an astonished Jeannie. 
 
 " There are some women who ought to know better ; 
 they seem to let the wind blow their tongues." 
 
 " Did they say anything about me ? " asked Jeannie 
 anxiously. 
 
 " About you ! I should just like to hear them. You, 
 indeed ! " 
 
 " Who then ? " 
 
 " Your old friend, Gertrude Stubbs." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " They actually say — but I've no business to repeat 
 it." 
 
 " What do they say ? " 
 
 " You're bound to hear it sooner or later, so I may as 
 
94 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 well tell you now and put you on your guard. They told 
 me that Gertrude Stubbs has actually left her home to 
 run away with some young scamp who's been paying her 
 attention." 
 
 " Perhaps they are married," suggested Jeannie. 
 
 " That they didn't tell me. But it stands to reason that 
 no well-brought-up young lady would, nowadays, go off 
 and get married, or do anything of that sort without 
 consulting her parents." 
 
 Jeannie kept her counsel. Joe continued : 
 
 " And for the Miss Hitches to go about spreading such 
 scandalous reports for which they've no authority is 
 shameful. I as good as told them so. I could have 
 banged their two heads together." 
 
 As they walked home, Joe said more to the same effect, 
 while Jeannie nervously fingered a letter she had received 
 that morning from her old school-friend. 
 
 It was as follows : 
 
 " 33 Beamish Road, Fulham Road, 
 
 South Kensington, S.W., 
 
 3isi December 1889. 
 
 " My dearest Jeannie, — I wonder what you will say 
 when you get this and learn the wonderful news I have 
 for you. What will you say, dearest Jeannie, when I 
 teU you I'm no longer Gertrude Stubbs, but am now 
 Gertrude Scott ! I have been married nearly a week, and 
 it's all wonderfully romantic, and please don't tell a soul 
 what I am telling you or where I am writing from until 
 I give you permission. Write, dear, and give me your 
 sacred word of honour you will do what I ask. 
 
 " Now, dear, you will wonder how it was I went away and 
 got married like this instead of in the usual way. Of 
 course I don't deny I missed the wedding dress and the 
 bridesmaids and all the other lovely things, but it is all 
 lovely and romantic as it is, and then Eustace wouldn't 
 have it. 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE 95 
 
 " I told him how in time my people could be brought 
 round, but he simply wouldn't hear of it. You may not 
 believe what I'm going to tell you now, dear, but if I 
 never speak another word it's the absolute truth. 
 
 " My secret marriage was all Eustace's doing. He actually 
 stood outside my window one night with a loaded revolver 
 to his head and swore that, if I didn't promise to run away 
 with him, he'd blow his brains out. What could I do, 
 dearest Jeannie, loving him as I do ? If I had not done 
 as he had wished, I should have been guilty of murder, 
 dear. 
 
 " And what of the future, dear ? Eustace is making up his 
 mind to start working really hard as soon as he can realise 
 I am indeed his for life : he says he thinks a few weeks' 
 work will make him pass for the ' Indian Civil,' in which 
 the pay and prospects are splendid. Fancy my going to 
 India ! And I am sure he will work hard soon, for he 
 worships the ground I walk on ; and I am sure he 
 will ' pass,' as he's so wonderfully clever ; a genius, I 
 think. 
 
 " And oh ! dearest Jeannie, if I could only express the 
 happiness that is mine at loving and being loved ! And 
 to think, whatever trials we have, love is going to gladden 
 our days and bind our hearts in loving union for all 
 time ! 
 
 " If you would like to come and see us, I will let you know 
 when we shall be in. — Ever your loving friend, 
 
 " Gertrude Scott." 
 
 In the days before Jeannie had met Edgar, Joe's single- 
 hearted faith in the complete propriety of well-brought-up 
 young women would have touched her heart. But a 
 considerable quantity of water with regard to her one-time 
 loving appreciation of Joe had flowed under the bridge 
 during the last six months. 
 
 She had been prepossessed in Edgar's favour from 
 the first, and since acquaintance had ripened into intimate 
 
96 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 friendship, her disposition, together with her outlook on 
 hfe, had undergone a change. 
 
 Her old girlish light-heartedness had disappeared ; its 
 place had been taken by a despondency that was altogether 
 alien to her years. She had no longer any heart for her 
 household duties, performing them but perfunctorily at 
 best, and when Joe came home from his day's work, as 
 likely as not she would take the earliest opportunity of 
 seeking her room, where she would either mope or indulge 
 in protracted flights of romantic fancy. It was only 
 when Edgar was expected that a feverish excitement was 
 substituted for her former listlessness. 
 
 Such was her self- absorption at the new factor which had 
 come into her life that, for the most part, she was blind 
 to Joe's concern at the alteration that had taken place 
 in his once gladsome Jeannie ; with the egotistic con- 
 centration of youth on its own affairs, she regarded any- 
 thing other than her intimacy with Edgar as of no moment 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Nor was this all. 
 
 Jeannie had quite succeeded in convincing herself 
 that her economic and, therefore, social inferiority to the 
 Baverstocks was the one obstacle that prevented Edgar 
 from beseeching her to be his wife ; with the inconsequence 
 of feminine youth, she, in the secret places of her heart, 
 blamed her father for this state of things, and he being 
 so dependent on her for his happiness, she visited her 
 resentment on the one person who would patiently suffer 
 her resentment. 
 
 Alarmed at her extremity, he would give her homely 
 advice, at which he, all unconsciously, got on her nerves, 
 making her peevish and irritable : she had not the re- 
 motest idea, her imagination being absolutely wanting 
 where anything other than Edgar was concerned, how 
 deeply her behaviour wounded that simple, loving 
 heart. 
 
 There were exceptions, however, to her perversity. 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE gy 
 
 Sometimes the world would seem hopelessly grey, and Joe 
 and his love for her the one bright spot in a miserable 
 existence, at which, if he were in the house, she would, as 
 likely as not, throw her arms about him and passionately 
 protest her unalterable devotion, and would, if he had 
 suffered her to proceed, have confessed how undutiful and 
 ungrateful she had been to the best and kindest of 
 fathers. 
 
 Perhaps it was incidents such as these which enabled 
 him to suffer patiently the waywardness she too often 
 exhibited. 
 
 She gave much time to the reading of romantic fiction, 
 and devoured those works in which a difference of sta- 
 tion proved no ultimate obstacle to the union of the 
 lovers. 
 
 The Lady of Lyons, a play performed by a local amateur 
 society, which she witnessed in Edgar's company, greatly 
 impressed her. She bought a copy of Bulwer Lytton's 
 drama, and frequently read the scenes between Pauline 
 and Claude Melnotte : the line, " Love lays the shepherd's 
 crook beside the sceptre," stuck in her mind. 
 
 Its message, however, brought her small comfort. 
 
 Ignorant as she was of the gross materialism which 
 obtained in the eighteenth century, she believed that such 
 times were wholly moved by romantic considerations, and 
 that latter-day conditions would never permit a scion of 
 the house of Baverstock to wed one in the position of 
 Jeannie Pilcher. 
 
 As she walked home with her father on this last evening 
 of the year, her heart was bitter with discontent. She had 
 seen nothing of Edgar for eight days, although he had 
 sent her a sumptuous Christmas card, and in a letter 
 accompanying it had asked if he might make her a present 
 of a dog. 
 
 She had consulted Joe with regard to this offering, and 
 had been deeply disappointed when he was much against 
 her accepting it, urging that he had made such a friend of 
 7 
 
98 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 the dog they had had in the old days, that he did not care 
 to repeat the experience of the grief he had suffered at its 
 decease. 
 
 " I'm sorry to oppose you in anything that affects your 
 happiness, Jeannie," he had said. " But dogs become so 
 much a part of one's life that when they go it's almost 
 like losing one's own flesh and blood." 
 
 Jeannie had surrendered to her father's wishes and the 
 dog had been very regretfully declined. 
 
 As if Edgar's prolonged absence were not enough to vex 
 her, Gertrude's letter, detailing her romantic marriage, 
 her glowing happiness, awoke a raging envy of which she, 
 in her normal moments, would never have believed herself 
 to be capable. Several times Joe addressed remarks to 
 her when declaiming against the Miss Hitches' love of 
 scandal, but such were her prepossessions that she answered 
 him either with monosyllables or absently. 
 
 When they got inside the house, Jeannie looked anxiously 
 to see if a letter had come in her absence : not finding one 
 she half expected from Edgar to explain his prolonged 
 absence, her torments sensibly increased. 
 
 "What about to-night ? " said Joe presently. 
 
 " What about it ? " asked Jeannie, none too graciously. 
 
 " Are you going to the watch-night service ? " 
 
 " I had thought of going. And you ? " 
 
 " I'm too old for that sort of thing." 
 
 " I shall soon be too," sighed Jeannie. 
 
 Joe laughed outright, a proceeding that somewhat 
 cheered his daughter. 
 
 " You'd better come, dear," she suggested. 
 
 " Not to-night. And there'll be so many people going 
 that you'll be all right alone," declared Joe, his face 
 brightening at Jeannie's endearment. 
 
 Observing this, she sat before the fire and gazed for 
 some minutes at the glowing coals, at which there was 
 silence between them. 
 
 She was feeling low, and out of sorts ; it was as much 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE 99 
 
 as she could do to restrain her tears. Then Joe com- 
 menced to fuss about her, arranging the curtains to 
 exclude possible draughts, and bringing a cushion for her 
 back, a footstool for her feet. 
 
 Her present condition of mind was such that the least 
 thing caused it to be elated or depressed, consequently 
 Joe's attentions inclined her heart to him. 
 
 She looked in his direction, to perceive he was anxiously 
 watching her with troubled eyes. 
 
 She was sensible of, and minded to confess her fro- 
 wardness where he was concerned, but was restrained 
 by pride : then, as if to conciliate her self-reproaches, she 
 compromised between the two contending emotions and 
 said : 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't been quite the same to you 
 lately." 
 
 " What makes you say that ? " 
 
 " It's the last day of the year, a day one thinks of 
 things." 
 
 " We won't say anything about that." 
 
 " Next year I wQl try to be different." 
 
 " That's all right, Jeannie," said Joe, who knew from 
 recent experience the value of such assertions. Jeannie 
 went on : 
 
 " Life isn't always so simple as it seems." 
 
 " I know that, dear. One must take the bitter with 
 the sweet." 
 
 Jeannie sighed. 
 
 "Things always come right in the end," he assured 
 her, with his simple optimism. 
 
 " I wonder ! " she murmured. 
 
 " Even if they don't, nothing's gained by worrying." 
 
 Jeannie's pretty head nodded a tentative consent 
 although her heart refused to be comforted. 
 
 " And, after all, Jeannie, there is a Providence that 
 shapes our ends." 
 
 Jeannie was disposed to retort that Providence was 
 
lOO THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 seemingly at fault when regulating social inequalities, 
 but, not wishing to wound her father's beliefs, she for- 
 bore. 
 
 " And as you won t be in bed till very late, hadn't 
 you better rest a bit ? " asked Joe, who was wholly 
 unconscious of his sudden transition from the abstract 
 to the essentially practical. 
 
 " What about supper ? " 
 
 " That can wait till quite late." 
 
 It wanted but a few minutes to eleven when Jeannie, 
 Prayer Book in hand, was about to set out for the watch- 
 night service ; although quite ready, she waited ; knowing 
 Joe as she did, she believed he had something in his mind 
 to which he hesitated to give expression. She stood 
 facing him in the little hall, and was moved at perceiving 
 how he had aged of late. 
 
 " Good-night, Joe," she said impulsively. " And a 
 happy New Year." 
 
 Much to her surprise, he did not reply, at which she 
 asked : 
 
 " Didn't you hear what I said ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear. But there's something I want to say." 
 His seriousness was such that she apprehensively asked : 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " It's to do with what I said when you were sitting 
 before the fire." 
 
 Jeannie, from sheer nervousness, looked at her watch, 
 a birthday present from Joe. 
 
 " I won't keep you a moment, but it's this. From 
 what I can see of hfe, even if one gets much of what one 
 wants, it's far from being all plain-saihng. When things 
 seem at their fairest, there's often a bitter disappointment 
 waiting round the corner, and at the best, for the most 
 fortunate of us, it's a rough-and-tumble journey. I know 
 when one's young one laughs at the croakings of parents. 
 I did myself, but I'm wiser now ; and I'm telling you this 
 because I don't want you to expect too much." 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE loi 
 
 Jeannie's romantic sensibilities were jarred by her 
 father's prosaic warnings, but his evident sincerity pre- 
 vented her from questioning his assertion. Instead, she 
 kissed him and asked : 
 
 " Are you happy, Joe ? " 
 
 " Of c — course, dear. I've you, and I'm retiring in 
 two years." 
 
 " A happy New Year, Joe." 
 
 " The same to you, my Jeannie. And God bless and 
 keep you always." 
 
 The door closed on Jeannie, and very soon she was a 
 unit in a straggling stream of men and women, which was 
 flowing in the direction of the parish church. 
 
 Most of those she passed were looking forward to en- 
 joying a little emotional dissipation, but she could not help 
 noticing how the obviously serious-minded, who seemed 
 as if they were overweighted with contrition for the mis- 
 deeds of the past and with the making of noble resolutions 
 for the coming year, were blameless citizens who did not 
 have in them to commit grievous sin. 
 
 When she reached the church, she was minded to walk 
 a few steps farther in order to get a glimpse of the river ; 
 she found it racing in the direction of the sea, and indiffer- 
 ently lit by a three-quarter moon which, as if sick and in 
 need of succour, appeared to be lying on its back. 
 
 The feeble illumination of the moon, the hurrying dark 
 waters, held her to where she stood ; it was only when 
 she was conscious of the rawness of the night that she 
 turned in the direction of the church. 
 
 Even when she reached the porch, she did not go in, but 
 was moved to return and take another look at the river and 
 the moon, the latter's morbid glamour apparently appealing 
 to an emotion of self-pity which just now possessed her. 
 
 When she got back, all the colour had gone out of the 
 moon, when, such was its wan appearance, that it seemed 
 on the eve of dissolution, at which she fell to comparing 
 its extremity with her own blighted existence : with the 
 
I02 THE SINS 0¥ THE CHILDREN 
 
 unbalanced and extravagant apprehensions of lovesick 
 youth, she believed that life had nothing further to offer 
 her beyond its present bitterness, which last was almost 
 beyond human endurance. 
 
 When sitting in the church, and waiting for the service 
 to commence, she endeavoured to attune her thoughts to 
 the solemn nature of the occasion ; try as she might, she 
 found herself envying pretty Gertrude's romantic marriage. 
 
 Suddenly, she was possessed by a great fear and a vague 
 delight ; although she had not turned her head, she was 
 certain that Edgar had entered, and had taken a seat 
 behind her. 
 
 Henceforth, all possibility of reverently attending to the 
 service was at an end ; she did not once look round to 
 confirm her conviction with regard to Edgar's presence, 
 but for all this self-restraint her mind was a welter 
 of emotion concerning what his coming to the church 
 portended, he being anything but a religious-minded man. 
 Now and again, she was taken out of herself by the 
 antics of the man in the pulpit, who, being theatrically 
 minded, and owing to the illness of the vicar, having 
 taken his place at the last moment, was out to make the 
 most of his opportunities. 
 
 With loud voice and exaggerated gestures, he impressed 
 on his hearers the truly solemn nature of the service at 
 which he was officiating. 
 
 It wanted but a few minutes to twelve when the parson, 
 after working on the emotions of his congregation with the 
 hysterical fervour of a revivalist, enjoined silent prayer 
 until the midnight hour should strike; watch in hand, 
 he waited to announce its coming. 
 
 For all the deathlike stillness which obtained in the 
 church, it was useless for Jeannie to attempt to give her 
 mind to anything other than the cause of Edgar's attend- 
 ance at the service. 
 
 Her trepidations were interrupted by the awesome voice 
 of the man in the pulpit, who said : 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE 103 
 
 " The sands of the old year have run out : hsten, my 
 brethren, to its knell." 
 
 Although aU present pricked up their ears, not a sound 
 was heard, at which the clergyman, nothing daunted, 
 after waiting a few moments, looked again at his watch 
 before saying : 
 
 " Lo, the hour is about to strike." 
 
 His watch, however, must have been fast, for the silence 
 obstinately persisted ; it was as much as Jeannie could 
 do to repress a smile. 
 
 After waiting the best part of a minute, he repeated the 
 previous statement, but, upon its proving equally false, 
 and the clock faUing to strike, he thought it expedient to 
 say: 
 
 "Let us pray." 
 
 Hardly had the congregation followed his behest, when 
 the clock struck the hour. 
 
 When Jeannie left the church, she looked neither to the 
 right nor left, whUe a mixture of fear, pride, and resent- 
 ment at Edgar having neglected her for so long urged her 
 to go out by a side door ; detaching herself from those 
 who were streaming in the direction of the town, she 
 again walked to the bridge. 
 
 When she was where she had stood before, she found the 
 moon had sunk behind a bank of dark cloud, when, for 
 aU this disappearance, it Ut other clouds, big and white, 
 which were bellying purposefully across the sky, as if 
 belated for their destination. 
 
 Below, black water poured through the arches as if 
 bound on some dark errand, and a Uttle way farther was 
 obscured by mist that hovered on the surface as if to 
 conceal its fell intent. 
 
 The driving clouds, the dismal, uncanny river, the 
 rawness of the night air, all infected Jesmnie with a sense 
 of impotence against forces compared to which any 
 resolution of her own would be as naught ; she was eager 
 for the shelter and comfort of home, and was about to 
 
I04 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 hasten thither, when her heart seemed to stop beating. 
 The next moment, an all too familiar voice said : 
 
 " How's little Jeannie ? " 
 
 She turned, to see Edgar ardently regarding her. 
 
 As if in protest against his recent disregard of her 
 existence, she made as if to avoid him ; in spite of herself, 
 she was rooted to where she stood. 
 
 " How's little Jeannie ? " he repeated. 
 
 Her sense of personal impotence was suddenly for- 
 gotten ; in resentment of the way in which she had been 
 slighted, she was moved to angry speech, but all she 
 said was : 
 
 " I'm not little Jeannie." 
 
 " I know you're not ; I know you are not," he cried 
 vehemently. " You're tall and straight and strong and 
 beautiful — everything you should be." 
 
 She looked at him with frightened eyes, while she 
 trembled in every limb. He went on : "I know you 
 want to leave me, but before you go you must hear what 
 I have to say, and here better than anjnvhere where the 
 world, but for you and I, seems out of its mind." 
 
 She was urged to glance at sky and river and mist, 
 but the purpose in his eyes compelled her whole 
 attention. 
 
 " Don't speak," he continued. " I want your New 
 Year's message to me to be, ' I love you.' " 
 
 Her breast was sadly troubled, at which he said : 
 
 " I've tried to keep away — ^but we'U say no more of 
 that. It was impossible. And now I want your New 
 Year message to be, ' I love you,' because that is mine 
 to you. ' I love you, beautiful Jeannie,' and nothing in 
 the world is going to keep you from me." 
 
 As she did not speak, he looked at her with an immense 
 inquiry ; it was not innocent of fear. 
 
 Then, as if in spite of himself, he put out his arms, at 
 which, after hesitating the merest fraction of a second, 
 Jeannie helplessly surrendered to their embrace. 
 
NEW YEAR'S EVE 105 
 
 Thus they stood on the bridge, a morsel of rapturous 
 content in a disorderly, unkempt world, when, for all their 
 contemptuous disregard of the incongruous elements 
 about them, the lovers were as much the sport of inexor- 
 able law as wind and cloud and river. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 
 
 On a cloudless June morning, Jeannie stood pensively on 
 the cliffs that stretch from Broadstairs in the direction 
 of Ramsgate. 
 
 Behind her, as far as she could see, should she care to 
 look, was a spread of yellow corn, while here and there 
 were blood-red poppies seemingly craning their heads 
 in order to get a glimpse of a faultlessly calm sea, which 
 climbed the horizon till it was at one with the blue of 
 the sky. 
 
 She had come with Joe for a fortnight's stay at Broad- 
 stairs, her father having taken his yearly holiday earlier 
 than usual, Jeannie not being in her usual health. 
 
 They were staying at " Hazeldene," a largish boarding- 
 house in Broadstairs, where, for the inclusive charge of 
 eleven shUlings a day, father and daughter were lodged 
 and fed. They had gone to a boarding-house in preference 
 to lodgings, so that Jeannie should be spared the worries 
 of housekeeping ; also, Joe thought that new faces and 
 young society would do her good. 
 
 Although they had been at Broadstairs a week, Jeannie 
 did not seem wonderfully better for the change ; neither 
 did she care to consort with the maidens and young men 
 staying at " Hazeldene," although they were eager, par- 
 ticularly the latter, to cultivate her acquaintance. 
 
 That morning, Joe had urged Jeannie to accompany 
 him upon a sea trip ; she had ignored the suggestion, and 
 had sought the cliffs' remoteness in order to nurse her 
 love-thoughts in solitude. 
 
 io6 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 107 
 
 Since the evening when Edgar had declared his love, it 
 had been quite understood that they were engaged to be 
 married, but, so far as she could see at present, the chances 
 of their being anything other than lovers were shght. 
 
 Edgar had given Jeannie a magnificent engagement 
 ring, which she only wore in secret ; he had implored her 
 to keep the betrothal even from her father, as, if its existence 
 were noised abroad, it would seriously compromise him 
 with his family, and put an end to the possibility of his 
 being called to the Bar and obtaining a practice on which 
 to keep a wife. 
 
 Jeannie had fallen in with Edgar's wishes, indeed, she 
 could have done nothing else, loving him as she did. 
 
 In the days before he had declared his passion, he had 
 possessed her heart, but as she had despaired of being 
 loved in return, she had restrained herself, so far as it 
 was possible, from immersing herself in the depths which 
 yawned about her. 
 
 In those days, although carried off her feet, she had 
 believed in the possibUity of being able to fight ultimately 
 her way back to land. 
 
 Now it was altogether another matter 
 
 Edgar's kisses, endearments, and ardent protestations 
 (he was a perfect lover), above aU, the conviction that 
 she was loved for herself alone, had carried her into deep 
 water from which escape was imthinkable : she neither 
 knew nor cared what happened so long as she was sure 
 of his love. 
 
 Occasionally, when she ventured to appraise the emotion 
 that possessed her so completely, she was dumbfounded 
 by the natiure of the fire that Edgar had lighted in her 
 being. 
 
 She recalled the years when her heart had been innocent 
 of passion, and wondered if the Jeannie she had known 
 were indeed the same girl who had wholeheartedly 
 abandoned herself to the ecstasy of loving. 
 
 In common with most other yoimg women, she had 
 
io8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 thought considerably of love and had looked upon it as 
 an amiable infatuation for one of the opposite sex. Never, 
 in the wildest flights of romantic imagination, had she 
 dreamed that love would reduce her to such a pitifus 
 extremity. 
 
 Small wonder was it that her agitations affected her 
 health, inasmuch as they deprived her of sleep and 
 frequently gave her a distaste for food : neither was it a 
 matter for surprise that she preferred her own company 
 to that of others : over and beyond the fact that solitude 
 enabled her to think her thoughts without fear of in- 
 terruption, her passion seemed to detach her, and make 
 her a thiug apart, from her species, whose idle chatter 
 and trivial preoccupations caused them to appear beings 
 of another and inferior world. 
 
 Jeannie, who had been dreamily and vainly endeavouring 
 to recall the parting expression of her beloved's face, 
 turned in the direction in which she believed London 
 to be, and sighed deeply and often. 
 
 Presently, she sank on the grass, and for the fifteenth 
 time read a long and very tender letter which the morning's 
 post had brought from Putney. 
 
 Although she lingered over the endearments, these 
 did not hold her attention just now so much as certain 
 guarded phrases which reinforced apprehensions she 
 had known before she left home for the sea, apprehensions 
 concerning the pressure Reuben Baverstock was bringing 
 to bear on Edgar with regard to his marrying rich Mis 
 Creadle. 
 
 Jeannie was not so disturbed by the suggestion of such 
 a fell happening as might be supposed, she being not 
 only sure of Edgar's constancy but convinced he could 
 never marry where he did not love. 
 
 Jeannie was particularly sure of her ground with regard 
 to Edgar's fidelity, for the reason she dared not, for one 
 moment, let her mind dwell on the dire possibility of 
 his breaking faith. 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 109 
 
 Such an event would be of such dire moment that she 
 preferred to regard it as altogether inconceivable. 
 
 After a while, she put all unpleasant thoughts from 
 her mind, and abandoned herself completely to her 
 tender fancies, when there were but two people in her 
 world, they — Edgar and herself. 
 
 She had often indulged in a like surrendering, but 
 now that she had left Putney and was alone with nature, 
 sun and sky and sea, together with the poppy-starred 
 cornfields, seemed united in a glorious conspiracy to 
 stimulate the ardour of her imaginings. 
 
 The fiery June day, the calm magnificence of the sea, 
 the gorgeous blue with which the sky was hung, all urged 
 how ridiculously petty and worthy of disregard were 
 the gods of the everyday world to which well-brought- 
 up young women, particularly those who had completed 
 their education at Clarence College, constantly bowed 
 down, and all the time the corn was whispering so 
 caressingly that her eyes, with an effort, avoided a 
 sight of the scarlet-lipped poppies. 
 
 Such was the ecstasy possessing her, that, several 
 times, she believed Edgar was on the point of appearing 
 along the cliff path, he having been moved by a like 
 passion for herself to come and seek her out. 
 
 When she presently realised the futility of her longings, 
 in an access of despair, she tore at the grasses with her 
 hands. 
 
 Truly love had wrought a change in Jeannie PUcher. 
 
 It wanted some twenty minutes to one when Jeannie 
 reached the outskirts of Broadstairs on her way back 
 to midday dinner at " Hazeldene " : it was not very 
 long before she passed the children's open-air mission 
 service which, now nearing its end, was conducted by an 
 evil-looking parody of an ecclesiastic ; his appearance 
 and voice respectively offended Jeannie's sight and 
 hearing. 
 
 She overtook various people who, moved by a common 
 
no THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 purpose, were one and all converging on lodging-houses 
 and hotels ; a couple of hundred yards from " Hazeldene," 
 she came upon Joe, who was anxiously awaiting her. 
 He eagerly scanned her before saying : 
 
 " I knew the Broadstairs air would do you good." 
 
 " Am I looking better ? " 
 
 " Ever so much. Quite your old self again." 
 
 Jeannie smiled a trifle sadly. 
 
 " I've a letter from Mr. Bristow," he went on. 
 
 " Mr. Bristow ! " 
 
 " Don't you remember his coming to tea with Mr. 
 Mew and Mr. Ferrars ? " 
 
 Jeannie lazily nodded. 
 
 " He wishes to be remembered to you." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " And he tells me Titterton's father is dead." 
 
 Jeannie remembered Titterton. 
 
 " I'm sorry," she remarked carelessly. 
 
 Her father glanced at her before saying : 
 
 " His father was very selfish, so it's really a good thing 
 for him as he's now rather better off." 
 
 " I'm glad," declared Jeannie, with no particular 
 sincerity. 
 
 " I think he was very fond of you," went on Joe. 
 
 "Was he?" 
 
 " And I was thinking, only this morning, you met him 
 the same afternoon as you were introduced to young 
 Mr. Baverstock." 
 
 Jeannie flushed in spite of herself, and made a bee- 
 line for " Hazeldene." 
 
 "This eminently select boarding - establishment," to 
 quote from its prospectus, was a large, double-fronted 
 house, the hall of which, where unoccupied by a formidable 
 hatstand, was now filled by men and women of all ages, 
 who, with varying degrees of patience, were hungrily 
 awaiting the ringing of the dinner bell : conspicuous in 
 the throng was a good-looking, fresh-coloured, ready- 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK in 
 
 tongued young man, Baldwin by name, an auctioneer's 
 clerk by occupation, who was by common consent the 
 wit of the house. Quite six of the younger spinsters 
 spending an all too brief holiday at " Hazeldene " were 
 in love with him, but with the malignant irony that ever 
 shadows the affairs of the heart, Mr. Baldwin had only 
 eyes for Jeannie, who aU but ignored his existence. 
 
 Directly he set eyes on her, he brought off a practical 
 joke he had planned for her behoof ; this, the ringing of the 
 dinner bell some minutes before the meal was ready, 
 causing the hungry holiday-makers to troop into the 
 dining-room and take their places at table. 
 
 Baldwin anxiously watched Jeannie's face to see if she 
 rewarded his ingenuity with even the ghost of a smile, 
 but was disappointed, while the six more or less amorous 
 virgins, who thought him the gayest of gay dogs, giggled 
 and gave him many admiring glances. 
 
 At something after one, Mrs. Needle, the proprietress 
 of Hazeldene, made her eagerly awaited appearance, 
 when the meats and vegetables were brought in by the 
 servants, assisted by Leopold, the German boy-waiter, 
 who, in return for his services, received food of sorts, a 
 bed in the scuUery, and any tips that were going. 
 
 Mrs. Needle was by way of being a personality, even if 
 one pitched in a minor key. 
 
 After many years' endeavour to please the varying and 
 often highly contrasted dispositions of her " guests," 
 St. Paul's maxim of being " all things to all men " had 
 become such a habit of her nature that it was somehow 
 reflected in her appearance and disposition. 
 
 She seemed neither short, nor tall, nor fat, nor particu- 
 larly thin ; neither did she appear exactly young nor 
 particularly ancient looking. She could keep up a con- 
 versation with all and sundry at table (and by encouraging 
 talk incidentally lessen the consumption of food) in a non- 
 committal manner which amounted to genius, inasmuch 
 as she gave every person to whom she addressed her remarks 
 
112 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 the impression that their respective opinions tallied pre- 
 cisely with her own. She could truly flatter herself that 
 she had never offended even the most " difficult " of her 
 " guests," and how impossible some could be, she alone 
 knew. In her opinion, her boarding-house was the most 
 select, exclusive, and fashionable holiday-resort in the 
 world, and when speaking of herself she invariably sub- 
 stituted " Hazeldene " for the first personal pronoun. 
 
 Directly the meats were put on the table, she commenced 
 carving, a proceeding Jeannie always enjoyed ; although, 
 to outward appearance, Mrs. Needle was working her 
 hardest to get through the joints, her pretty guest's eyes 
 could see how she not only put as little as possible on 
 the seemingly endless pile of plates, but with a lightning 
 dexterity she arranged the thin slices to show to the 
 best advantage. 
 
 To-day, it was boiled mutton and turnips, a dish Jeannie 
 ordinarily enjoyed, but, for all her morning on the cliffs, 
 she had not much of an appetite ; after picking at her 
 meat, she saw that Joe's portion had already disappeared, 
 at which she boldly transferred aU that was on her plate 
 to his ; this proceeding was witnessed by Mrs. Needle, 
 but that good lady, with her admirable discretion, pre- 
 tended not to see. 
 
 Jeannie had eaten but a few morsels, but even these 
 were sufficient to stimulate her longing for Edgar. In 
 order to mitigate these prepossessions, she endeavoured to 
 be interested in those sitting at the three long tables, 
 when she found herself regarding pityingly the none too 
 comely members of her own sex. It seemed that the 
 fact of her loving and being loved set her apart from all 
 those other women, who thought they were hving rapidly 
 if a decent-looking man should so much as glance twice at 
 them. Very soon, however, her love torments became so 
 insistent that she found herself in a great measure envying 
 the other young women's tranquillity of mind. 
 
 Then she obtained temporary distraction from her 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 113 
 
 thoughts by an incident that always appealed to her 
 sense of humour. 
 
 After Mrs. Needle had carved for her guests, she made 
 the ghost of a meal herself, all the time grimly disregarding 
 the well-cleaned plates and the eyes that were greedily fixed 
 on the remains of the joints. Then she would signal to 
 the waiting servants to remove what was left ; as they 
 reached the door, she would ask with a quick wave of her 
 hand, which included all present, and ended by pointing an 
 index finger at the disappearing meats : 
 
 " Won't you have some more ? " 
 
 Even if the hungriest had had the temerity to ask for 
 another helping (such resolution had never been known 
 in the history of " Hazeldene ") it is extremely doubtful 
 if the progress of the hurrying servants would have been 
 stayed. But what was lacking in the quantity of the meat 
 supplied was amply atoned for by the sweets ; here, Mrs. 
 Needle showed her genius. 
 
 Suet, flour, and jam were cheap where she shopped, and 
 her invaluable cook had a talent for making the most 
 filling of roly-poly puddings which defied the most robust 
 appetites, even when sharpened with the keen air of 
 Broadstairs ; so much was this the case that, when the 
 meal was concluded, every one congratulated themselves 
 how they had had more than enough to eat. 
 
 A move was made for either the drawing-room or hall, 
 in which latter place most of the men lit cigarettes, a trifle 
 ostentatiously produced from silver cigarette cases, whUe 
 one or two, including Joe, furtively produced honest 
 briar pipes. 
 
 A piano-organ playing outside " Hazeldene '' just then, 
 Mr. Baldwin hurried out ; taking the handle from the 
 young woman, he turned it vigorously, to the delight of 
 his admiring friends. 
 
 The lilting music touched Jeannie to the quick, and at 
 once immersed her in depths of amorous imaginings which 
 surrounded her with an atmosphere of melancholy sweet- 
 8 
 
114 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 « 
 
 ness ; when the organ stopped suddenly, it was as if she 
 had received an unexpected blow. 
 
 A few moments later, it played again, this time one of 
 Leslie Stuart's appealing melodies. She greedily listened, 
 when aU the emotion of which she was capable seemed 
 to gather in her throat. 
 
 She was on the point of bursting into tears when Mrs. 
 Needle sat tentatively beside her, and said : 
 
 " Beautiful weather. Miss Pilcher." 
 
 " Is — isn't it ? " almost sobbed Jeannie. 
 
 " Visitors to ' Hazeldene ' have usually little to com- 
 plain of in that respect." 
 
 Jeannie was silent, at which Mrs. Needle asked : 
 
 " Have you seen the view from the North Foreland ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " 'Hazeldene' always recommends it to visitors." 
 
 More was said on subjects of strictly local interest, but 
 as Mrs. Needle did nearly all the talking, Jeannie vaguely 
 assenting to everything advanced, the latter soon repented 
 of her unsociability, and said : 
 
 " What a lot of different people you must see in the 
 year." 
 
 " Naturally," smiled Mrs. Needle. 
 
 Jeannie looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 " Once ladies and gentlemen visit ' Hazeldene,' they 
 are never happy until they come again," explained Mrs. 
 Needle. 
 
 " I meant different kinds of people." 
 
 " Of course ' Hazeldene ' has many contrasted dis- 
 positions. What else is to be expected from the many 
 who come here ? " 
 
 " And some people are rather difficult ! " suggested 
 Jeannie. 
 
 " ' Hazeldene ' doesn't find them so," declared Mrs. 
 Needle, without turning a hair. " Whatever -may be 
 their original dispositions, they're always quite satisfied 
 after a Uttle talk with ' Hazeldene.' " 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 115 
 
 Half an hour later, Jeannie was seated with Joe on a 
 seat overlooking the sea. They had been followed by 
 Baldwin, who, failing encouragement from Jeannie to 
 accompany her, was reduced to self-consciously passing 
 her at intervals of some minutes, a proceeding he occa- 
 sionally varied by mimicking the pecuUarities of any he 
 might foUow among the holiday-makers who lent them- 
 selves to caricature. 
 
 His admiring " young ladies," who were never very 
 far away, unanimously voted his performance " killing," 
 but if Jeaimie had had any appreciation of his antics, it 
 would have been dispelled by a sight to which Joe called 
 her attention. 
 
 Nine torpedo boat destroyers in lines of three abreast 
 were steaming menacingly in the direction of the North 
 Sea. They were not going at any particular speed, and 
 were seemingly within a stone's throw of the land, but 
 their wicked-looking huUs, and the disciplined might 
 (over and above their being a concrete reminder of 
 Britain's lordship of the sea) they suggested, awoke the 
 loudly expressed admiration of Joe, which communi- 
 cated itself to Jeannie, who was also thrilled by the 
 spectacle. 
 
 Joe was a patriot to the finger-tips, with an unquench- 
 able enthusiasm for the heroic past and appealing present 
 of the senior service ; he had an immense fund of con- 
 tempt for those who decried their country's greatness. 
 
 Small wonder was it that he watched the destroyers till 
 they were specks on the horizon, an occupation in which 
 he was imitated by his daughter. 
 
 The next morning, Jeannie was greatly distressed at 
 having no news of Edgar; he had arranged to write 
 every day; not receiving a letter, she almost worried 
 herself into a fever with her lover-like apprehensions of 
 something tragically terrible having overtaken him. 
 
 The day was so overpoweringly warm, and Jeannie so 
 obsessed with fears for the loved one, that she resolved 
 
ii6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 to cool her body and occupy her mind by bathing in 
 the sea. 
 
 The salt water soothed her; when, after a prolonged 
 stay in the sea, she found she was some distance from 
 her machine, she strode in its direction. 
 
 As she was proceeding thither with head erect, she was 
 suddenly aware that Edgar was devouring her with his 
 eyes from the parade. 
 
 She stood stockstill, while her heart beat wildly, pain- 
 fully ; it was only when he raised his straw hat that she 
 realised the scantiness of her attire. 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye she flushed to the tips of 
 her little ears ; the next moment, she had dropped her 
 head, and was running like a deer to her bathing- 
 machine. 
 
 Eager to look her best, distressed at being so unex- 
 pectedly discovered in bathing kit, it was a considerable 
 time before she ventured forth, to discover her lover 
 impatiently, almost angrily, awaiting her. 
 
 When he saw her, however, she was overjoyed to see 
 the delight which was at once expressed in his face. 
 
 "My beautiful Jeannie!" he said. "My beautiful, 
 wonderful Jeannie," he murmured. 
 
 She was unable to speak, and ached to throw her arms 
 about his neck ; in order not to be guilty of such a flagrant 
 impropriety, she looked seaward. 
 
 " I'd no idea you were so beautiful," he went on. " And 
 I almost wish you weren't." 
 
 She threw a questioning little glance in his direction. 
 
 " It makes me love you," he said, as if in reply, to add 
 as she did not speak : " Are you angry with me ? " 
 
 "Why should I be?" she said, as her eyes sought the 
 ground. 
 
 " For coming so unexpectedly." 
 
 She laughed happily. 
 
 " Now I know you're not. But you might tell me 
 so. 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 117 
 
 " You wish me to ? " she asked, with gathering con- 
 fidence. 
 
 " I wish my Jeannie to tell me." 
 
 She did not speak for a moment, and he was about to 
 press his request, when she said in a voice instinct with 
 passion : 
 
 " I love you ; I love you. I wanted you all the day, 
 and you never came. I wanted you all — but you've come, 
 and I love you." 
 
 " My Jeannie ! " 
 
 " Perhaps I shouldn't tell you. But I can't help it. I 
 love you, and nothing can ever alter it. It would be 
 dishonest to say otherwise." 
 
 Her passion seemed to hypnotise him, for he stood as 
 one enthralled. When he presently spoke, he said : 
 
 " That settles it." 
 
 " Settles what ? " 
 
 " Never mind ; but a none too strong-willed person 
 is determined on one thing.'' 
 
 " Something to eat ? I'm getting hungry myself." 
 
 " I'm going now, so you won't have long to wait." 
 
 " Edgar ! " she cried, as she involuntarily put out her 
 hands towards him. 
 
 " But I'll make quite an important little appointment 
 for you in two days' time." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Meet me at the station by the train that gets into 
 Broadstairs at 12.15. And wear your prettiest hat." 
 
 She questioned him for quite a long time as to what he 
 meant by this mysterious appointment, but all she could 
 get from him was : 
 
 " Little Jeannie will know all in good time, and if she's 
 ever sorry, it's her fault for looking so charming when 
 she came out of the water, and for saying the beautiful 
 things she said just now." 
 
 It being one o'clock, and Jeannie being due at " Hazel- 
 dene '' for midday diimer, he would not suffer her even to 
 
ii8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 walk so far as the hotel, where he purposed having some- 
 thing to eat before returning immediately to town. 
 
 " Good-bye, httle mermaid, and Thursday at 12.15," 
 he told her, when he was at last able to tear himself 
 away. 
 
 " Don't go," she pleaded. " If you do, you may never 
 come back." 
 
 " That's what I'm after," he essayed to say laughingly, 
 but the imminence of their parting caused his voice to 
 harden. 
 
 " You don't mean that ! " she cried. 
 " My sweetheart ! " he said tenderly. 
 " You shouldn't say such things, even in joke. They 
 hurt me." 
 
 The forgiveness he sought was speedily obtained, at 
 which he said : 
 
 " If I'm to be back on Thursday, I must go now, 
 but I'd give the world to kiss my Goldy Locks' red 
 Lips." 
 She did not reply, and averted her eyes. 
 " Wouldn't you like to be kissed ? " he asked. 
 She appeared to hesitate before looking him in the 
 face and slowly and repeatedly nodding her head. 
 
 When he was able to leave her, in defiance of the 
 exigent proprieties of Broadstairs, she watched him until 
 she could no longer see him. 
 
 Two days later, Jeannie waited in her prettiest hat, 
 and in considerable trepidation for what would befall 
 if Edgar came at the time appointed. 
 
 She knew an agony of suspense from the time the train 
 was due until its arrival some minutes late, when, almost 
 before she knew what had happened, she had been 
 warmly welcomed by Edgar and introduced to a tall, 
 eye-glassed, plain, distinguished-looking man who accom- 
 panied him ; his name was Mountjoy. 
 
 Without giving Jeannie the least explanation of what 
 he was at, he bundled her and his friend into a cab, and 
 
THE SHEPHERD'S CROOK 119 
 
 gave a hasty direction to the driver before joining the 
 others inside. 
 
 Jeannie had a confused impression of Edgar's wearing 
 rather smarter clothes than usual, of Mountjoy's clever 
 talk of any and everything, the whUe he narrowly appraised 
 her, when the cab drew up before a church. 
 
 Jeannie looked at Edgar with apprehensive eyes, at 
 which he said : 
 
 " Little Jeannie must do everything she's told, as this 
 is my day out." 
 
 For all his lightly spoken words, Jeannie could see he 
 was trembling with excitement. 
 
 It was only when she was well in the church that she 
 couM bring herself to realise that she was about to be 
 joined for aU time to the man of her choice. 
 
 Even when certain legal preliminaries with regard to 
 the Special Licence had been settled in the vestry, and 
 she and Edgar were standing before the altar with 
 Mount joy and the female pew-opener in attendance, it 
 was as much as she could do to attend to what was toward : 
 it seemed as if her heart must burst with the torrent of 
 happiness which invaded it. 
 
 As one in a dream, she listened to the words that made 
 them man and wife, a dream from which she feared to 
 awaken at any moment, and discover the old obstacles 
 between her desire and herself. 
 
 But the service persisted, the ring was put on her 
 finger, and very soon she was signing her name in the 
 register and receiving the congratulations of Mount joy 
 and the parson, at which she told herself how she was 
 indeed living in a world of delicious reaUty. 
 
 Presently, husband and wife came out of the ill-Ut 
 church together (Mount joy was settling up in the vestry), 
 when the brilliant sunhght bhnded their eyes, and en- 
 veloping them in its glory seemed to cut them ofi from 
 the humdrum, workaday world. 
 
 They were silent, while Jeannie endeavoured to reahse 
 
I20 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 how lavishly she had been blessed. Then, she glanced 
 at her husband with a shy adoration, at which he said, 
 as if speaking to himself : 
 
 " It's a duty I owed my love. I could do nothing 
 else." 
 
 The words jarred her proud happiness. 
 
 " I don't want any man's charity," she retorted. The 
 words were out of her mouth before she knew what she 
 had said ; she would have given much to recall them. 
 
 " I love you the more for your saying that, little 
 Jeannie," he assured her, to add exultantly a moment 
 or two later : " I've married the one woman in the world 
 for me." 
 
 " Forgive me for what I said," she pleaded. 
 
 " There's no time for forgiveness. You're young and 
 beautiful. I love you." 
 
 " Yes, my own dear, but " 
 
 " But what, little Jeannie ? " 
 
 " Won't this get you into trouble with " 
 
 " All that be hanged," he interrupted. " I've thrown 
 my cap over the — the — whatever it is. You're my 
 beautiful Jeannie, now. Just think of it ! And you 
 love me, and I love you. I'm going to live." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 
 
 In the days when Jeaxinie had built aerial love castles 
 on the cliffs at Broadstairs, she devoutly believed that 
 marriage with Edgar was the one thing needed to raise 
 a cup of bliss to her Ups which could never be emptied. 
 
 Now this desire was hers, she discovered that there 
 were yet a considerable number of things she wanted in 
 order to perfect her happiness. 
 
 Not that she did not enjoy many crowded moments 
 of raptiure on the few occEisions she could contrive to be 
 alone with her husband, but her enforced separations 
 from him, and the fact of his seemingly being no nearer 
 to providing her with a home and acknowledging their 
 marriage to the world than he had been when he had 
 wedded her four months back, were a constant source 
 of tribulation to her. 
 
 As if this were not enough to distress her, there was 
 the necessity of keeping the fact of her being a wife from 
 Joe, and the attrition it produced on her affection for 
 him. 
 
 This deception troubled her conscience ; it was only 
 loyalty to Edgar which prevented her from confessing her 
 secret. But the concealment of her marriage, instead of 
 increasing her regard for her father, had a contreiry effect ; 
 with the perversity of feminine human nature, she visited 
 on Joe much of the annoycince she felt for herself on 
 account of her duplicity. 
 
 There were many exceptions to the trend of this 
 behaviour, but on the whole the conviction that she Wcis 
 
122 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 in the wrong made her constantly believe that Joe suspected 
 how matters stood, with the result that she would con- 
 strue his most innocent remarks into subtle and irritating 
 efforts to obtain the truth. 
 
 Also, Edgar's occasionally prolonged absences en- 
 gendered accesses of hysterical despair when she told 
 herself that her husband did not wish the marriage to be 
 divulged as he was ashamed of the stock from which his 
 wife had sprung. When possessed by this obsession she, 
 to Joe's dismay, was sullen and fretful. 
 
 Over and above these prepossessions, Jeannie feared 
 Joe's honest wrath when he discovered, as he inevitably 
 must, how he had been deceived. 
 
 If Joe had been anything other than his unsuspicious, 
 homespun self, he would have divined the state of affairs 
 from Jeannie's eager welcome of Edgar when he called ; 
 the atmosphere of love with which the two were surrounded ; 
 the change in Jeannie's appearance. 
 
 Marriage had produced the inevitable alteration in her looks 
 and figure, for while the latter had exquisitely developed, 
 the expression of her face had awakened to such purpose 
 that those who had eyes to see could perceive how she 
 had fulfilled the natural destiny of comely womanhood. 
 
 Apart from her preoccupations, Jeannie had not the 
 suspicion of an interest in life which was not identified 
 with her husband ; wifehood had deepened and stimulated 
 her love untU it possessed her utterly ; indeed, her abject 
 surrender of soul and body at his bidding had brought 
 home to her, as nothing else could, how her happiness was 
 at the mercy of his merest whim. 
 
 This afternoon, she walked in the direction of the Miss 
 Hitches, to whom she was paying a long-deferred call, with 
 her mind both elated and depressed. 
 
 She was aglow in expectation of a visit from Edgar in 
 the evening, but was troubled by reason of quarrels with 
 his father, of which he had made mention in the letter 
 announcing his coming : too well was she aware that 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 123 
 
 these disagreements were caused by Reuben Baverstock's 
 anger at his son's persistent attentions to Jeannie. 
 
 She knew well enough that, sooner or later, the marriage 
 must be discovered by Baverstock, at which she trembled 
 with apprehensions for her husband and his prospects at 
 the Bar, So far as she was concerned, she would cheer- 
 fully suffer poverty, starvation, the worst the fates could 
 send in her beloved's company, and account it high honour ; 
 but she could not be certain that the delicately nurtured 
 Edgar's love would not be affected at being compelled to 
 endure privations for her sake. 
 
 These thoughts troubled her, not only on the way to her 
 two spinster friends, but when she was in their presence ; 
 she absently replied to their many inquiries respecting 
 her own and her father's health. 
 
 When, with something of an effort, she for-ced herself 
 to forget her worries for the time being, and devote her 
 attention to her kindly hostesses, she noticed that a more 
 elaborate tea than usual was provided ; also, that the 
 room was gay with knick-knacks and flowers, indulgences 
 she had not noticed on her last visit. 
 
 A plate of hot muffins was handed to her ; Jeannie, 
 who had now more than recovered her appetite, was about 
 to take off her gloves when she remembered that she had 
 forgotten to remove the wedding ring, which delighted 
 her eye when alone, from her finger. 
 
 In her trepidation, she helped herself to the greasy 
 food with her gloved hands. 
 
 " Why don't you take off your gloves, dear ? " asked 
 Laura Hitch quickly. 
 
 " Thanks, I will directly." 
 
 " You'U ruin your gloves, dear," put in Elsie. 
 
 Jeannie put down her plate and nervously took off her 
 right glove. 
 
 " Take them both off, dear," suggested Laura. 
 
 " I'm all right as I am," replied Jeannie, as she fell to 
 devouring the muffins on her plate. 
 
124 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 After desultory conversation on the sisters' part about 
 the veriest trivialities, the elder sister asked : 
 
 " Have you heard any more, dear, of your friend, 
 Gertrude Stubbs, who ran away and got married to a 
 Mr. Scott ? " 
 
 " Not after the one letter I had." 
 
 " Of course you didn't reply to it," said Laura. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? " 
 
 " After her doing such a very dreadful thing ! They 
 might not have been married for quite twenty-four hours 
 after they ran away ! " 
 
 Jeannie, whose guilty conscience made sure the sisters 
 were suspiciously eyeing her gloved hand, more or less 
 adroitly changed the subject. 
 
 Presently, they spoke of good works. They hinted how, 
 with the blessing of Providence, they had more than 
 enough for their needs, and asked Jeannie's advice as to the 
 best means of alleviating some of the world's distress of 
 which, though ignorant, they had read much. 
 
 It must be confessed, however, that Jeannie's suggestions 
 were neither very practical nor particularly sincere. Most 
 of the time they were talking, she was hugging her romantic 
 secret to her heart and pitying the two women because 
 their lines had never been visited by the magic of 
 love. 
 
 Jeannie had left her kindly friends, and was hurrying 
 in the direction of the house her Edgar was to visit in the 
 evening, when it occurred to her that on a previous visit 
 to the Miss Hitches she had discovered an advertisement 
 from a firm of " outside " Stock Exchange brokers. She 
 had mentioned the matter to Edgar when on their way to 
 the theatre, and she had not failed to convey to the two 
 sisters the emphatic warning he had given respecting 
 the danger of two unsophisticated women, or any one else 
 for that matter, having financial dealings with such people. 
 
 For the best part of ten seconds, Jeannie wondered if 
 her friends had ignored her advice ; also, if their increased 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 125 
 
 prosperity were due to fortunate speculations : the matter 
 was forthwith forgotten in her tender apprehensions of her 
 husband's coming. 
 
 She gave her father tea in the highest spirits, when, 
 if she had not been preoccupied with the question of 
 frocks and frills in which to look her best before her beloved, 
 she might have been touched at noticing how pathetically 
 Joe responded to her smiles and pretty ways : wrinkles 
 were smoothed from a face that was alight with happi- 
 ness ; he looked less grey than his wont ; it was as if 
 years were lifted from his life. 
 
 Later, when she went singing upstairs to make her 
 toUet, she had not been before her glass five minutes 
 (and disposed to reproach herself for her extravagance 
 in lighting two candles with which to dress) when she was 
 so possessed by emotion at the thought of the furtive 
 kisses she might exchange with her husband that she felt 
 sick and faint, and had to rest on the bed before she 
 recovered. 
 
 She was, presently, trying the effect of ribbons in her 
 hair, and had decided on one of crimson, when she heard 
 a knock at the door. Her heart leapt, but realising the 
 next moment how the furtive knock she had heard was 
 altogether different from Edgar's assertive summons, 
 she went to the landing to learn who it was. 
 
 When the door was opened by the servant, she heard the 
 clock mender ask for her father ; her elation was such 
 that, regardless of her tisual objections to Rabbitt's im- 
 posing on Joe, she called down to teU him to see if any- 
 thing were wrong with the clock. 
 
 Twenty minutes later, she welcomed her husband, 
 when she was disturbed at noticing a preoccupation that 
 he was doing his utmost to conceal by a make-beUeve 
 light-heartedness. 
 
 Jeannie ached for a chance of questioning him with 
 regard to what was toward, but no opportunity being 
 forthcoming just then, she was compelled to possess her 
 
126 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 soul in patience. It may have been merely her fancy, 
 but she had something of a suspicion that Joe was not so 
 complacent with regard to her being alone with Edgar 
 as he had been formerly, he rarely leaving them together 
 more than he could help. 
 
 As long as the October light lasted, they all strolled in 
 the little garden, husband and wife taking every oppor- 
 tunity of furtively holding each other's hands when they 
 thought that neither Joe nor the inquisitive eyes of 
 neighbours could see what they were at. 
 
 Presently, they came into the cosy dining-room where 
 Rabbitt, lighted candle in hand, was tinkering with the 
 clock, the while he dropped grease on the works. 
 
 The air being chilly, Joe lit the fire, at which Edgar and 
 Jeannie made much ado of getting it up by holding a 
 sheet of newspaper before the grate, this providing further 
 opportunities for the meeting of hands. 
 
 When the fire burned brightly, father, daughter, and 
 Edgar sat before it, the two men smoking — Joe a pipe, 
 the other cigarettes. 
 
 Very soon Edgar's forced gaiety gave out, and Joe not 
 being at the best of times much of a talker, the conversa- 
 tion would have flagged had not Jeannie made desperate 
 efforts to keep things going: she had an intuitive dread 
 of Edgar being bored in her company. 
 
 She spoke of anything and ever3H:hing that came into 
 her head. Presently, she made mention to Edgar of her 
 having taken tea with the Miss Hitches. 
 
 " What did they talk about ?" asked Joe. 
 
 " The usual." 
 
 " Scandal ? " 
 
 " They still asked about Gertrude Scott, if that's what 
 you mean." 
 
 " Too bad ; too bad," explained Joe. " Even if your 
 school-friend did do wrong, it's no reason why these hen- 
 headed women should do little else but cackle about 
 it." 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 127 
 
 " How did Gertrude do wrong ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " In running away as she did," replied Joe. 
 
 " But they got married." 
 
 " Maybe, but without their parents' approval," declared 
 Joe severely, at which Jeannie felt cheap. 
 
 " Why do you speak so hardly of her ? " asked Edgar. 
 " There may have been reasons, such as " 
 
 "What reasons could there be?" interrupted Joe, with 
 unusual warmth. " And what can a child of that age 
 know about choosing a husband? And even if she's 
 eager to marry a man, she's no business to take the matter 
 entirely in her hands without saying a word to her parents." 
 
 Edgar's and Jeannie's eyes involuntarily met. Joe 
 went on : 
 
 " There are cases, I know, when young people are miser- 
 able without each other. I say nothing about that : love 
 is love, and there's no getting away from it. But just 
 think of the lying and avoiding of the truth, and the 
 subterfuges to meet, and all that kind of thing that went 
 on before she took it into her head to get married." 
 
 Jeannie, if only for her own sake, attempted some 
 defence. 
 
 " When she wrote to me, she was very happy." 
 
 " But she never answered your letter asking if you could 
 go and see her." 
 
 " She's probably so happy she doesn't want to be 
 bothered with any one else." 
 
 " Even if she is, I don't see your point, Jeannie." 
 
 " You won't let me finish, Joe. What I was going 
 to say was that, if she's so very happy, her parents cannot, 
 after all, complain very much, as that is what any father 
 or mother would want more than anything else in the 
 world." 
 
 " All very well, but as I look at it from the parents' 
 point of view, there's something more to be said," de- 
 clared Joe emphatically. " More likely than not, particu- 
 larly as Gertrude was a pretty and charming girl " 
 
128 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Joe always has an eye for the girls," interrupted 
 Jeannie inconsequently. 
 
 " I know a nice girl when I see one, but that is beside 
 the point just now. What I say is this. That, most 
 likely, Gertrude's parents, as fathers and mothers do all 
 the world over, denied themselves in a thousand and one 
 ways for their child, to say nothing of the love and care 
 they lavished on her, and their endless anxieties on her 
 account. And I say it's positively shameful for a daughter 
 to marry secretly like that, and run the risk of breaking 
 her parents' hearts, as Gertrude did." 
 
 He paused for breath, to ask, after a moment or two, 
 of Edgar : 
 
 " What do you say, sir ? " 
 
 " I'm — I'm disposed to agree with you," replied Edgar 
 feebly, while Jeannie knew an acute searching of heart 
 on account of conduct identical to that which Joe had 
 censured. 
 
 " Now let's talk of something pleasant," said Joe 
 genially. 
 
 For the life of her, impressioriable Jeannie could not 
 respond to the invitation ; she sat moodily looking into 
 the fixe ; more than once she was within an ace of con- 
 fessing the truth to Joe. 
 
 Divining Jeannie's preoccupation, Edgar pulled himself 
 together, and talked to Joe of gardening and such-like 
 things, which he believed would interest him. Also, he 
 spoke to Joe of the possibility of his retiring in his forth- 
 coming sixty-first year, and of where he proposed living 
 when this happy consummation arrived, a subject that 
 always mightily moved Pilcher. 
 
 To-night, he waxed almost eloquent on picturing the 
 joys that might be his when the railway had no further 
 call upon his time : he mentioned how Jeannie and he 
 had often talked over the matter, but ended with a 
 suggestion of despondency by saying : 
 
 " Perhaps it will never be." 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 129 
 
 " Why on earth not ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " Although it's a thing I've looked forward to, and 
 worked for all my life, I fear it's too good to be true." 
 
 " I don't see why ! " declared Edgar. 
 
 " So many things can happen to prevent it. But we 
 won't say any more about that to-night. We're de- 
 pressing Jeannie." 
 
 As the minutes passed, and the time approached for 
 Joe to take what he called a " breather " at the front 
 door, Jeannie anxiously watched Rabbitt to see if he 
 would soon be done ; unless he was out of the way when 
 her father left the room there would be no opportunity 
 either for endearments or learning what was troubling 
 Edgar. 
 
 To-night, to Jeannie's infinite annoyance, Rabbitt did 
 not seem to be making any progress : beyond dropping 
 grease into the clock works, he appeared to be more 
 interested in the little gathering in the room than eager 
 to get on with his examination of the clock. 
 
 She also perceived how Edgar was possessed by a 
 like apprehension, for he glared at Rabbitt as if he would 
 gladly wring his neck. 
 
 At last, Joe got up and said he would take a few minutes 
 at the front door, but when he left the room Rabbitt 
 made as if he would follow him, faltered and stood staring 
 at the lovers, candle in hand. 
 
 " Haven't you finished ? " asked Jeannie impatiently. 
 
 " Scarcely, miss." 
 
 " Come another time. I — I don't like the idea of your 
 being out so late." 
 
 " It's of no consequence, miss. My good lady is not 
 expecting me for an hour." He aspirated the aitch. 
 
 Jeannie would have despaired had not Rabbitt, 
 doubtless stimulated by her words, assiduously examined 
 the clock works, at which husband and wife were able to 
 converse in whispers. 
 
 " Curse that old fool ! " began Edgar. 
 9 
 
130 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Ssh ! " 
 
 " I'd like to throttle him." 
 
 Jeannie smiled. He went on : 
 
 " I believe he admires you, and sticks here on purpose- 
 How is it he's here to-night ? " 
 
 " He called, and I asked him in." 
 
 " I see. You didn't want me to kiss you," he remarked, 
 to add as she did not speak : "Is that it ? " 
 
 " If you like," she replied impatiently : she was eager 
 to learn what was troubling his mind. 
 
 " Is my sweet angry ? " he asked, with an immense 
 concern. 
 
 She told him how she was worried on his account, 
 and it was only with coaxing that she could get out of 
 him how things had come to a crisis with his father, who 
 was threatening the sternest of measures unless Edgar 
 fell in with his matrimonial designs. 
 
 " What is to be done ? " she asked despairingly. 
 
 " What can be done ? " 
 
 " It's bound to come out. And there's, also, father." 
 
 Edgar shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " If you could only get something to do," she said. 
 
 " Eh ! " 
 
 " Then it wouldn't matter what any one said." 
 
 " What do you mean by my getting something to do ? " 
 
 " What is usually meant by that, dearest ? " 
 
 " Does my Jeannie mean I should take some sort of a 
 job ? " 
 
 " Anything would be better than these dreadful 
 separations. You can never know what I suffer when 
 you're away." 
 
 " But you don't really want me to take — well, any- 
 thing I could get ? " 
 
 " It would be better than nothing." 
 
 Edgar's face fell ; his eyes grew hard. His wife 
 watched him apprehensively, while she was aware of a 
 sinking of spirit. She was about to ask him how she 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 131 
 
 had offended him, when he laughed outright, before 
 saying: 
 
 " I'm a regular Baverstock." 
 
 She looked at him with questioning eyes. 
 
 " Through and through. I'm a chip of the old block," 
 he continued. 
 
 " Dear ! " 
 
 " What I mean is this. I've always rather despised 
 my father's lot, and now I see I'm just the same £is they, 
 and all owing to what you asked of me." 
 
 " My suggesting your getting something to do ? " she 
 sked timidly. 
 
 " That's it, little Jeannie. And I'm a thoroughgoing 
 Baverstock, because I should think I'd had a big set- 
 back on the social ladder if I worked for any one else 
 instead of for myself." 
 
 " ReaUy ! " said Jeannie absently. 
 
 " Really and truly. I suppose I should be ashamed 
 to confess it ; I am. But I shouldn't know myself if I 
 had to be a clerk or anything of that sort." 
 
 Perhaps it was as well that Rabbitt got off his chair 
 just then, and deferentially approached the fireplace, 
 while Jeannie, for all her passion for her husband, was 
 not a little jarred by his admissions ; her pride was 
 wounded at his reluctance to take anything that offered 
 in order to provide a home : also, his remarks seemed an 
 unnecessary reflection on her father's occupation. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Edgar of the clock mender. 
 
 " With the lady's permission, I should Uke a word with 
 Mr. Pilcher." 
 
 " That's all right. How much ? " asked Edgar quickly. 
 
 "Nothing to-night, sir." 
 
 " Eh ! " exclaimed a surprised Edgar. 
 
 " There's nothing amiss with the works to-night, sir. 
 The tick's most 'ealthy ; really most 'ealthy. But I 
 should like a word with Mr. Pilcher on a matter of 
 business." 
 
132 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Tell me and get it over," suggested Edgar. 
 
 " Thank you, sir. To tell you the truth, I got a little 
 backward with the rent, sir. And — and " (here Mr. 
 Rabbitt's voice became deferential and gentle, as if by 
 way of apologising for intruding such a vulgar matter 
 on poUte society) " they've ' put in,' sir." 
 
 " They've what ? " 
 
 " ' Put in,' sir : ' put in.' That is to say " (here his 
 voice was hushed to a whisper) " there's a party in 
 possession." 
 
 " That's aU right. How much ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, there's two weeks' rent and costs. Eleven 
 shillings in all, sir," declared Mr. Rabbitt, as he handed 
 two pieces of soiled blue paper to Jeannie, who, in glancing 
 at these, perceived it was an inventory of the clock mender's 
 furniture. It comprised three Windsor chairs, one kitchen 
 table, and a sofa ; the lot was valued at eleven shillings. 
 
 Edgar made Rabbitt's watery eyes gUsten with delight 
 by giving him some loose silver ; a few moments later, 
 when Jeannie had dismissed him to the kitchen with the 
 candle, and two shillings from her own pocket, husband 
 and wife were alone. 
 
 " At last ! " said Edgar, under his breath. 
 
 Jeannie remained motionless, at which he exclaimed : 
 
 " My sweet ! " 
 
 Although he placed his arm about her, she was stUl 
 unresponsive to his caress. 
 
 " Your father will be back directly," he went on. Then, 
 as she still kept silent, and moodily stared into the lire, 
 he asked with increased ardour : 
 
 " Is my dearest angry ? " 
 
 She merely shook her head, at which, with a wealth of 
 endearment, he sought to discover what was amiss. 
 
 At first, Jeannie had been coy because she was troubled 
 by her husband's point of view with regard to getting any 
 employment that offered, and it is notorious that worry 
 is the enemy to the various manifestations of love ; also, as 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 133 
 
 has been stated, she was annoyed at the reflection he had 
 made on Joe's means of livelihood. 
 
 Very soon, however, she was finding excuses for Edgar, 
 telling herself that, in being different from every one else, 
 she could not expect him to behave as might an ordinary 
 man in the same circumstances. 
 
 Also, his ardent protestations fired her young blood, 
 and made music in her ears : she was on the point of 
 surrendering to his embraces, when Joe slammed the 
 front door before returning to the room. 
 
 Half an hour later, Rabbitt had long since gone, and 
 after Joe had delivered himself of his forecast of to-morrow's 
 weather, sausages and mashed potatoes, cooked by Jeannie, 
 were served up hot for supper. 
 
 As if by way of atoning for her previous coldness, 
 Jeannie was prettily playful and, when opportunity offered, 
 tenderly affectionate to Edgar. 
 
 Presently, she produced her wedding ring and mischiev- 
 ously passed it under the table to her husband. He fell in 
 with her mood ; after pretending he had lost it, he was 
 about to hand it back in reply to her furtive signals, when 
 a resounding double knock was heard on the front door. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " asked Joe's and Jeannie's eyes of 
 each other, whUe Edgar shifted uneasUy on his chair ; in 
 his apprehension of what was toward, he slipped his wife's 
 ring into a waistcoat pocket. 
 
 Three minutes later, when the servant had answered 
 the door, Baverstock was shown into the dining-room. 
 He was in evening- dress ; although his hps smiled pleas- 
 antly enough, Jeannie trembled at seeing how his eyes 
 were unusually hard under his shaggy eyebrows. 
 
 He bowed to Jeannie ; after h^ gaze had lingered 
 appreciatingly on her for a moment, he glanced coldly at 
 Edgar before greeting Joe with a " Good evening." 
 
 " Good evening, sir," said Joe, who, although he had not 
 met Baverstock to speak to before, knew the owner of " Pyra- 
 cantha" very well by sight. "Won't you take a seat?" 
 
134 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Thank you, but as I much regret to say I've come on a 
 somewhat unpleasant matter, perhaps I'd better stand." 
 
 " Sir ! " exclaimed an astonished Joe. 
 
 " Please bear in mind what I have come to say is dictated 
 quite as much by consideration for your daughter as by 
 anything else." 
 
 " Please leave Miss Pilcher out of it," exclaimed Edgar 
 angrily, as he rose from his seat. 
 
 " I'll speak to you directly," said Baverstock to Edgar, 
 with a menacing lapse from his previous civility. 
 
 Turning to Joe, he went on : 
 
 " It is only fair to you and your very charming daughter " 
 (there was a note of sincerity in his voice when he eulogised 
 jeannie) " to tell you that my son's constant visits here 
 can only end in unhappiness for all concerned." 
 
 He had not meant to broach the reason of his visit so 
 bluntly, but the sight of the homely meal of sausages had 
 stimulated his ire, convincing him, as nothing else could, 
 of the hopelessly middle-class instincts of the family with 
 which his son was so intimate. 
 
 " How dare you ? " cried Edgar. 
 
 " I — I don't understand," exclaimed Joe, the colour 
 heightening in his face. 
 
 " I told you I came on unpleasant business, and the 
 sooner I get it over the better. That is why I must ask 
 you to excuse my plain speaking, which is quite as painful 
 to me as to you." 
 
 " I — I don't understand at all, sir," said Joe. " D'ye 
 mean to say that my Jeannie is running after your 
 son ? " 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. I've warned Edgar over and 
 over again of his folly." 
 
 " FoUy ! " cried Joe. 
 
 " I shouldn't have said that. I've warned Edgar 
 again and again of the unhappiness he is causing, and 
 since he wouldn't listen, I conceived it to be my duty to 
 come and put an end to it once and for all," 
 
BAVERSTOCK MAKES A CALL 135 
 
 Joe had paid no attention to Baverstock's last words : 
 the word " folly " possessed his mind to the exclusion of 
 everything else. 
 
 " I can't see its folly to be attracted by my Jeannie," 
 declared Joe doggedly. 
 
 " Quite right," cried Edgar 
 
 " You mistake my meaning," said Baverstock curtly : 
 he was more angered than ever at Edgar's open defiance 
 of his authority. " You mistake my meaning. It has 
 long been understood Edgar should marry elsewhere, 
 and " 
 
 " Rot ! " interrupted Edgar. 
 
 " It's not what you call ' rot,' " retorted his father. 
 " The lady I refer to is the right sort of wife for you in 
 every respect, while ! " 
 
 " Don't say any more ! " interrupted Edgar. 
 
 " Sir ! " 
 
 " Don't say any more." 
 
 " I wUl have my say. I repeat, she is the right sort of 
 wife ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Joe. 
 
 " But " 
 
 "Stop, sir. You forget yourself." 
 
 " Let me " 
 
 " Don't listen," interposed Edgar excitedly. " Don't 
 listen to anything he says." 
 
 " I will speak," declared Joe, who, in his righteous 
 wrath, seemed to acquire personality, stature, and authority. 
 " Your coming here like this, and sayiag what you've 
 said, is a reflection on my daughter." 
 
 Baverstock would have spoken, but Joe persisted. 
 
 " You may not think my girl good enough for you 
 and yours, but I tell you to your face, sir, she's as good 
 a girl, as true a girl, as honest a girl a father was ever 
 blessed with. She mayn't have birth or money, as those 
 things sometimes are, but she would be a treasure to the 
 best man in the world. And for you to come and tell me 
 
136 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 she's not good enough for your son, and to insinuate we 
 are running after him is nothing short of infamous. We 
 are not like that ; and as for my daughter, she's gold aU 
 
 through, and she's my little Jeannie, and — and " 
 
 Emotion choked his utterance, sensibly affected Baver- 
 stock, who could always be sentimental for five minutes 
 at a stretch, and disposed Jeannie to go to her father 
 and throw her arms about his neck. She was on the point 
 of doing this, when Edgar, who had been nervously fidget- 
 ing his hands in his waistcoat pockets, sharply withdrew 
 them, at which his wife's wedding ring was unwittingly 
 jerked on to the table, where it lay in full view of the 
 others. 
 
 Jeannie's heart seemed to leap into her throat ; she 
 thought she was going to faint, but she recovered herself 
 in order to lessen her father's grief and anger at the decep- 
 tion she had practised. 
 
 She looked at him with an immense apprehension, to 
 see that he stood as if he were turned into stone. She was 
 about to sink at his feet and implore his forgiveness, 
 when he suddenly held out his arms. 
 
 She flew to their embrace, when she was conscious that 
 he was defiantly regarding a dumbfounded Baverstock 
 over her shoulder. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 21 ELM GROVE, W. 
 
 " What time is it ? " 
 
 " Nearly half-past seven, dear." 
 
 " Sure ? " 
 
 " I just heard it strike on St. Paul's." 
 
 " Why doesn't Kate bring the tea ? " yawned Edgar. 
 
 " It's only just time for her to get up. She doesn't 
 bring the tea till eight." 
 
 " Anyway, you might try it on : I'm dying for a cup." 
 
 Jeannie, not a little hurt that her husband had not 
 offered to kiss her on awakening, called Kate loudly twice. 
 Not getting a reply, she slipped out of bed, and putting 
 on her slippers, went to the servant's door, where she 
 asked Kate if she were getting up. 
 
 " It's not yet half-past seven," replied Kate, and much 
 too sharply for her mistress's liking. 
 
 " Isn't it ? " asked Jeannie feebly. For all her disUke 
 of Kate, she knew she was by way of being a treasure, 
 and therefore was compelled to humour her. 
 
 " No, ma'am. It's just past seven. And I don't get up 
 tiU half-past." 
 
 " Be as quick as you can when you do get up," urged 
 Jeannie, as she returned to her room. When she got into 
 bed, she found her husband was dozing. Knowing the 
 impossibility of getting any more sleep, she lay stark 
 awake, and suffered her mind to dwell on the possibility 
 of Edgar's obtaining a much-needed billet, the bestowing 
 of which was to be decided on that day. Then, the fact 
 of his omitting to kiss her when he awoke stuck in her 
 
138 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 mind, and made her anxiously wonder if his love for her 
 were waning. 
 
 As if to heal her hurt on this score, she fell to recalling 
 the early days of their married life, and the thousand and 
 one proofs her mind treasured of his passionate adoration 
 of his wife. 
 
 While gratefully dwelling on these recollections, she 
 caught sight of a slit of intensely blue sky, which the 
 fluttering of the blind revealed above the roof of the 
 opposite house. 
 
 In a moment, this bit of colour stimulated memories 
 of a glorious six weeks she and Edgar had spent in the 
 Italian Riviera almost immediately after their marriage 
 had been discovered by Baverstock. 
 
 Edgar had inherited from an aunt sufficient capital 
 to bring him in fifty pounds a year : although Jeannie, 
 with her intense sense of the value of money, would have 
 preferred to commence housekeeping in furnished rooms 
 till her husband could get something to do (all question 
 of his succeeding at the Bar was now at an end, owing 
 to Baverstock's anger at his son's marriage), Edgar 
 had insisted on raising a hundred pounds and taking his 
 wife first to Paris, next to the south of France, finally 
 to Bordighera, a small town on the Gulf of Genoa. 
 
 Jeannie's objections to this extravagance were speedily 
 forgotten in the delights of travel with her husband. 
 She had never been out of England before ; the complete 
 change of atmosphere was alone sufficient to stir her 
 emotions ; the additional fact of her being day and night 
 in the company of the man she worshipped had moved 
 her to the depths of her being. 
 
 Edgar, with money in his pocket, had not a care in the 
 world, unless, perhaps, a constant anxiety to please his 
 Jeannie, which concern was not a little stimulated at 
 perceiving how her winsome fairness was appreciated 
 by the Latins they encountered. 
 
 When they reached the Mediterranean, Edgar was all 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 139 
 
 for staying at Monte Carlo, where, on the night of their 
 arrival, Jeannie won four pounds and her husband lost 
 eight at roulette. If she had married a rich man, she 
 would have fallen in with his wish; knowing fiJl well 
 there was every possibility of troublous times ahead, the 
 ostentatious display of wealth on every hand irked and 
 depressed her. 
 
 An hotel acquaintance had recommended Bordighera 
 for a day's excursion ; when Jeannie and Edgar had 
 walked to VentimUia, and finding the heat too much for 
 them, had taken the tram to their destination, she thought 
 she had never seen anything so uninteresting as the lower 
 town, or anything so delightfid as the old one : she had 
 besought Edgar to pitch their tent in the latter place, and 
 had not rested tUl he had done as she wished. 
 
 From their room in the smallish hotel where they stayed, 
 Jeannie had looked across the palm trees in the garden, the 
 steeply terraced way of the Strada Romana, to the intense 
 blue of the Mediterranean : should she glance in the contrary 
 direction, she saw the yellow walls, the sage green shutters, 
 the campanile with its queer round top of many colours, 
 of the old town, which, for all its solidity, seemed but a 
 pigmy bit of masonry when compared with the stupend- 
 ous magnificence of the Maritime Alps, which majestically 
 towered behind. 
 
 The glorious beauty of her surroundings, the atmosphere 
 of passionate devotion with which she was surroimded 
 had, for the time being, carried Jeannie off her httle feet. 
 She could not believe how the old prosaic days in humdrum 
 Putney were part and parcel of this gorgeously-hued, 
 romantic life. 
 
 As Jeannie lay in bed, she recalled the mornings she 
 and Edgar had spent in the hotel garden, where the rough 
 trunks of the palms looked as if they had been bound up 
 for their greater protection in cocoa-nut fibre matting. Of 
 an afternoon, if not too hot, they would stroU through 
 the cloistered ways of the old town where, through one 
 
140 THE SINS OF THE CHH^DREN 
 
 tall narrow arch, they would catch a glimpse of the pictur- 
 esquely clad children who, sitting on the rocks, dangled 
 their feet in the breakers ; through another, an awe- 
 in spiring view of the eternal Alps, while the glory of sky 
 and sea glowed with a more intense blue by reason of the 
 passion that possessed her. 
 
 There had been one particular spot where they had 
 loved to linger, this the Piazza della Fontana, a deserted 
 square surrounded by tail houses ; it contained a large 
 copper fountain, the plashing water of which made melan- 
 choly music for the lovers, and in seemingly insisting 
 on the ruthless passage of time urged them to make the 
 most of their youth and love and happiness. 
 
 That was then. 
 
 Immediately they had started on the return journey, 
 Jeannie had been obsessed with apprehensions for the 
 future, which Edgar's optimistic light-heartedness altogether 
 failed to allay ; when she had arrived in London, her 
 fears darkened the hues of a city which, without any efforts 
 on her part, looked dull enough after the blue glory of the 
 place she had left. 
 
 Joe had warmly pressed husband and wife to make a 
 long stay with him, but Edgar had elected to take a house ; 
 as the strictest economy was necessary even to his volatile 
 nature, one had been selected in Elm Grove, Hammer- 
 smith, the small rent of which contributed to this require- 
 ment. 
 
 Elm Grove was a quiet little street of old-fashioned, 
 stucco-faced, semi-detached houses ; it ran from the 
 High Road, by one side of the West London Hospital, 
 till it came to a fuU stop at the brick wall of a local 
 notability's garden. 
 
 The furnishing of their house made further inroads 
 into Edgar's scanty capital, which was further depleted 
 to provide the wherewithal to live. 
 
 Here, Edgar had valiantly striven to obtain work, to 
 discover how, for all his Cambridge education, he had no 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 141 
 
 marketable qualifications. Things had looked desperate 
 till a few days back, when he had been surprised to hear 
 from Turk, one of his father's partners, that he would 
 probably be able to obtain for him the secretaryship of 
 a company in which he was interested, should Edgar stUl 
 be in want of a job. 
 
 Edgar had made immediate application for the billet ; 
 he was to hear that day if he had secured it, and this 
 was the matter that Jeannie avoided dwelling upon, 
 holding as it did such dire facilities for nerve-racking 
 worry. 
 
 So far, husband and wife had heard nothing from Baver- 
 stock or Bevill. 
 
 Mrs. Baverstock had written Jeannie a letter containing 
 the tenderest wishes for her own and Edgar's welfare, 
 together with an expressed hope that she would be able 
 to call on her daughter-in-law on some future occasion. 
 
 Mabel, who visited her brother and Jeannie in defiance 
 of her father's prohibitions, told them how her mother 
 was eager for a reconciliation, but that this was hotly 
 opposed by Baverstock. 
 
 Jeannie was deeply hurt by her father-in-law's behaviour ; 
 she readily understood how she and Edgar had offended, 
 but believed that his determination to ignore her was 
 dictated by the conviction that she was socially no fit 
 mate for Edgar. 
 
 This impression incensed her profoundly whenever she 
 suffered her mind to think of it. She recalled how all 
 the men, and many of the women, she had met abroad 
 had delighted to do her honour ; she had always possessed 
 social ambitions and ached to find them emplo5mient if 
 only to prove to Baverstock that Edgar had not done 
 so badly after aU in taking her winsome person to wife. 
 But whenever she gave the matter thought, she bitterly 
 laughed to herself at realising how such things were ab. 
 jectly impossible without money. 
 
 With the exception of Joe, the Hiblings, who sometimes 
 
142 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 came over from Fulham, Mabel, and Edgar's friend 
 Mount] oy, they did not see a soul. She had not even the 
 ghost of an acquaintance even in humble Elm Grove, the 
 houses seemingly being inhabited by people such as her- 
 self who were too poor to make friends from fear of being 
 put to the cost of entertaining them, even in the humblest 
 manner. 
 
 For all those drawbacks, Jeannie, in her heart of 
 hearts, was superlatively happy; whatever apprehensions 
 menaced her, she, in loving and being loved, breathed the 
 very essence of romance; this seemed to steep her days 
 in a perfume that subtly beautified her life. 
 
 Suddenly, her mind harked back to her husband's for- 
 getting to give her his customary kiss on awakening, which 
 omission she coupled with a latent tendency to irritability 
 on his part. 
 
 She recalled with a pang the glorious nights at 
 Bordighera when he had been unable to sleep unless 
 he had pillowed his head upon her wildly beating heart. 
 
 Their intimacy had been such that there had been no 
 reservations on her part, with the consequence that her 
 passion had grown to a fulness compared to which the 
 love of her married days at Putney seemed a thing of no 
 account. 
 
 Here it may be remarked that, if Edgar were disposed 
 to take his wife's love as a matter of course, Jeannie had 
 only herself to thank. 
 
 If, instead of constantly giving him the impression 
 that he had done a noble thing in taking pity upon her, 
 she had occasionally used him hardly, and repulsed his 
 advances when he had believed he had offended her, she 
 would have had him at her feet. As it was, she was but 
 another illustration of the fact that in the inevitable 
 contest for supremacy between husband and wife, it is 
 the one more passionately in love who comes off second 
 best. 
 
 Punctually at eight, Kate brought in the tea and 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 143 
 
 bread and butter, together with the morning's post, 
 which consisted of various bills and a letter for Edgar 
 addressed in Mountjoy's handwriting. 
 
 On being awakened, Edgar tossed the bills aside and 
 read his letter while he sipped his tea. 
 
 Jeannie, of set purpose, held her peace. 
 
 Presently, after swallowing a mouthful of bread and 
 butter, Edgar lit one of the cigarettes he kept handy at 
 the bedside. He had not smoked for very long before 
 he was sensible of his wife's silence ; he quickly turned his 
 attention to her, which should have been a valuable object- 
 lesson to Jeannie. 
 
 " Why so silent ? " he began. 
 
 " Am I ? " 
 
 " Aren't you feeling all right ? " 
 
 " Quite." 
 
 " Worrying about that secretary business ? " 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 " That'll be all right, sweetest. I feel quite certain 
 about it." 
 
 Jeannie did not speak. 
 
 "Mountjoy wants me to lunch with him to-day," he 
 went on. 
 
 " Why don't you ? " 
 
 " Want to be rid of me, ' Goldy Locks ' ? " 
 
 " Why shouldn't you lunch out with your friend ? " 
 
 " He wants me to go to his club. And that reminds 
 me, my club subscription isn't paid. I cancelled the 
 bank order weeks ago, and now they send the notice to 
 me." 
 
 " Why don't you pay it ? " 
 
 " I can't afford it now, little Jeannie," he declared, 
 to add quickly, as she made as if she would get out of 
 bed : " Going to get up ? " 
 
 " There's a lot to do to-day. Father's coming in this 
 evening." 
 
 " Still " 
 
144 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Good-bye," cried Jeannie, as she drew her knees from 
 the bedclothes. 
 
 " Why this haste ? " he asked, as he threw away his 
 cigarette. 
 
 " Because — because you didn't kiss me this morning." 
 
 " I'll make up for it now." 
 
 She would have avoided him, but he was too quick 
 for her, and directly his hand touched her arm she was 
 helpless. 
 
 When they came down to breakfast, the printed com- 
 munication from the club stared them in the face from 
 the overmantel in which it had been stuck : it was a 
 symbol of the economies that men who marry on 
 insufficient means are forced to make, and as such it 
 jarred both husband and wife, and interfered with their 
 enjoyment of the meal. 
 
 After breakfast, Edgar smoked a pipe whUe he looked 
 down the " wants " columns of the Daily Telegraph with 
 the usual dismal results to one who read with Edgar's 
 now practised eye. 
 
 Presently, he put down the paper with something 
 that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. 
 
 " Worrying about to-day ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " I am now." 
 
 " Worrying won't help us," she faltered. 
 
 "After all, I think I'U lunch with Mountjoy if you 
 don't mind." 
 
 " Why shouldn't you, dear ? " suggested Jeannie ; she 
 would have much preferred to have Edgar at home. 
 
 " It will take my mind from this ghastly suspense." 
 
 " I'U tell Kate," she said, as she left the room in order 
 to hide her chagrin at his decision. 
 
 When she came back, he was looking moodily into the 
 fire. 
 
 " Still worrying ? " she asked. 
 
 " I was thinking about your father." 
 
 " What of Joe ? " 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 145 
 
 " We don't see very much of him." 
 
 " He always comes when he's asked, and it's rather 
 awkward getting to Putney from Hammersmith late at 
 night. And when daughters marry, parents Uke to leave 
 them alone for a bit," explained Jeannie, in the manner 
 of one conscious of the weakness of her case. 
 
 " Anyway, he's coming this evening." 
 
 " Yes, he's coming this evening," repeated Jeannie, as 
 if this fact atoned for any remissness with regard to Joe 
 of which she may have been guilty. 
 
 Jeannie spent the best part of the morning engaged in 
 household matters, the most immediate of which were 
 tfee cleaning of the Sheffield-plated cruet, one of Joe's 
 wedding presents to her, and the making of a steak and 
 kidney pie and strawberry tarts for the evening. 
 
 These preparations brought her into contact with Kate, 
 a hard-featured, angular young woman who, knowing 
 her value, was most precise in her work, not doing any- 
 thing other than she conceived to be her duty. 
 
 For all the unpleasantness caused by proximity to such 
 an unpleasing person, Jeannie found an abiding joy in 
 her work, inasmuch as it was a labour for the comfort and 
 well-being of the loved one. 
 
 Presently, when Edgar called to Jeannie that he was 
 about to go, she went to him with heart abeat ; as she 
 put her arms about him in order to kiss him, she hoped 
 he would not notice how she clung to him as if she could 
 never loosen her hold. 
 
 " Wish me luck," he said, as he made for the door. 
 
 " With all my heart," replied Jeannie, and with such 
 passionate earnestness, that her husband looked at her 
 in surprise before clasping her to his heart. 
 
 The home she loved was like a desert when he had 
 gone ; to enable her to forget her loneUness, she worked 
 hard, and to such purpose that she was quite hungry 
 when she sat down to her midday meal. 
 
 In the interests of economy, she had intended having 
 10 
 
146 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 bread and cheese and cocoa, but she was now in such 
 appetite, she resolved to have an egg ; being disposed, 
 however, to reproach herself for this extravagance, she 
 compromised with her conscience by having a " fresh " 
 as compared with a new-laid one. 
 
 After her frugal meal, she recollected that there was 
 no whisky in the house. As the price of a bottle would 
 make serious inroads on her scanty housekeeping allow- 
 ance, she did what she had done before when Mount joy 
 had been invited for the evening ; she sent Kate to a 
 public-house for a shilling's worth of whisky which, when 
 obtained, was emptied into a decanter where, to Jeannie's 
 honest eyes, the spirit seemed to be conscious it was there 
 under false pretences. 
 
 During the afternoon, she was in a fever of trepidation 
 as to what would befall with regard to the appointment. 
 Towards five, she heard the postman's knock coming down 
 the little street, at which she could hardly contain herself 
 for excitement. When he came in at the gate of 21, 
 she feared she would never have the courage to open 
 the fateful letter if it arrived in her husband's absence. 
 
 Sure enough a letter addressed to her husband in Turk's 
 writing was dropped into the box ; as it was marked 
 " immediate," Jeannie opened it, in order to be able to 
 teU her husband the news he was eager to hear when he 
 reached home. 
 
 She read how Turk regretted his recommendation had 
 been overborne with regard to the secretaryship, but that 
 he could offer Edgar a clerkship in the new company he 
 was forming at three pounds a week, if he cared to 
 accept it. 
 
 If her husband had been other than he was, that is to 
 say not a Baverstock, she knew he would have jumped 
 at the offer of such a comparatively humble position ; 
 but Jeannie, besides being aware how bitterly disappointed 
 Edgar would be, doubted whether his pride would suffer 
 him to take the proffered billet. 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 147 
 
 In any case, he would have to resign his club, which 
 she knew would be a bitter deprivation for him. 
 
 Her dismal cogitations were interrupted by Edgar's 
 step in the little front garden. She crammed the letter 
 into her pocket, undecided whether or not to tell him 
 the bad tidings at once ; when, ever so pleased with 
 himself, he came into the room, she resolved to postpone 
 communicating the purport of Turk's letter for so long 
 as she dared. 
 
 " Any news ? " he asked, as he affectionately greeted 
 her. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " No news, good news," he cried. " I know, little 
 Jeannie, it'll all be right as rain. I've an idea it wUl be, 
 and that sort of thing never plays me false." 
 
 " You seem very happy," she remarked, striving valiantly 
 to be cheerful. 
 
 " I am. It does one good to get out and mix with one's 
 kind. That's why, between ourselves, I'm not at all keen 
 on dropping my club. What about tea ? " 
 
 She rang the bell, when Edgar said : 
 
 " I quite forgot. Mountjoy is likely to look in this 
 evening." 
 
 " But father's coming ! " 
 
 " Eh ! I forgot that when I asked him. But the 
 more the merrier. And after all he mayn't come." 
 
 " He mayn't come," repeated Jeannie. 
 
 Joe was expected about half-past six. Just before that 
 time, Edgar went into the dining-room, where dinner was 
 ready laid out, in order to get some tobacco. His eye fell 
 on the great Shefheld-plated cruet-stand, which occupied the 
 place of honour in the centre of the table. 
 
 " What on earth is that doing there ? " he asked of 
 Jeannie, who had followed him into the room. 
 
 " Why shouldn't it be there ? " she asked, in surprise. 
 
 " Surely you know it's very bad form nowadays to have 
 a cruet on the table ! " 
 
148 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " But it's one of father's wedding presents." 
 
 " I meant to mention it before, little Jeannie. And as 
 there's no time like the present, you'd better put it away." 
 
 " But it belonged to mother." 
 
 " Do what I ask, dearest." 
 
 " And Joe will expect to see it." 
 
 " If he does, you can easily give some excuse." 
 
 Jeannie made further protests, but seeing how seriously 
 Edgar took the matter she, at last, returned the cruet- 
 stand to the cupboard in which it was kept when not in use. 
 
 It was an anxious-faced Joe who arrived a few minutes 
 later, being greatly worried at the prospects of the 
 young couple. As invariably happened upon his infrequent 
 visits, he did not come empty-handed. This time, he 
 brought a handsome pair of old brass candlesticks, which 
 he suggested might do for Edgar's writing-table. 
 
 Joe had not been in the tiny drawing-room five minutes 
 when Jeannie, who had a keen sense of atmosphere, was 
 aware of the difference between her present social point 
 of view and that of her father's which, to some extent, 
 represented the outlook she had known before her marriage. 
 So much had she appreciated since living with Edgar 
 and unconsciously imbibing his prejudices, that even the 
 most select opinions of once-honoured Clarence CoUege 
 now appeared to be rather small beer. 
 
 If a good-natured friend had been at hand to tell Jeannie 
 she had only become more snobbish, the latter would have 
 put down the other's candour to some form of jealousy 
 on account of her having married the peerless Edgar. 
 
 To-night, she was so distressed on account of his failure 
 to obtain the coveted berth, fearful of how he would take 
 the news, that she was moodily sUent. 
 
 Her depression reacted on Joe, who was narrowly 
 watching her, in order to discover if she were anything 
 like as happy as he wished her to be. The evening would 
 have been a dismal failure but for Edgar, who was in the 
 highest spirits, and looking forward to Mountjoy's arrival. 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 149 
 
 His exuberance was, presently, infectious in so far as 
 it set Joe talking. 
 
 " There's rather bad news about some old friends of 
 yours," he said to Jeannie. 
 
 "Indeed! Who?" 
 
 " The Miss Hitches. It seems they've been speculating, 
 and have lost everything." 
 
 " What will they do ? " asked Jeanie, whose own 
 troubles were so immediate that other people's seemed 
 remote. 
 
 " Goodness knows. Though I've no reason to like them 
 beyond their being kind to you, I'm quite worried about 
 them," replied Joe. 
 
 " Are they the old girls I told you to warn ? " asked 
 Edgar. 
 
 " I believe I did tell them what you said," Jeannie 
 informed him. 
 
 " It's greed and nothing else that has sent them wrong. 
 Not content with what they've got, they listen to the first 
 shark who tells 'em money can be had for the asking," 
 declared Edgar. 
 
 Dinner was put back a quarter of an hour in anticipation 
 of Mountjoy's coming ; on his failing to put in an appear- 
 ance, a move was made for the dining-room, where an 
 attack was made on Jeannie's pie, which was served by 
 the host and handed round by Kate, who, rather to Joe's 
 discomfiture, had been carefully trained by Edgar to 
 wait at table. 
 
 " No sign of the postman yet, Jeannie," said Edgar, 
 when they were seated. 
 
 " Not yet," she replied. 
 
 " Expecting good news ? " asked Joe. 
 
 " Rather. And I'm going to get it," answered Edgar. 
 
 " Good," exclaimed Joe, with his mouth full of steak 
 and kidney pie. When he had swallowed it, he said : 
 
 " This pie is very good." 
 
 " Isn't it ! " from Edgar. 
 
ISO THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Is it home-made ? " 
 
 Although Jeannie had made it herself, her devotion 
 to an abstract social ambition caused her to ask of Kate : 
 
 " Kate ! Is this pie home-made ? " 
 
 Before the words were out of her mouth, she regretted 
 such behaviour in her father's company. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," promptly replied Kate. 
 
 " It is home-made," said Jeannie, in a subdued voice, 
 at which Joe, who had recognised his daughter's light 
 hand in the pastry, shifted imeasily in his seat, and seemed 
 to be suddenly deprived of appetite. 
 
 A silence feU on the little gathering : it was, presently, 
 broken by Joe, who was anxious the evening should go 
 off weU. 
 
 " Although it's been a fine day, I expect it will rain 
 to-morrow," he began. 
 
 " There's the weather prophet ! " smiled Jeannie. 
 
 " The wind's in the sou' west and all the week it's been 
 due east. Apart from the sudden change, there was a 
 circle round the moon last night." 
 
 A little later, he said : 
 
 " I saw Coop last night." 
 
 " How is he ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Going on famously. He asked after you." 
 
 " Very nice of him." 
 
 " And he's getting on well with the house he's putting 
 up next to your husband's respected father's. He 
 expects to be in in a very few months now." 
 
 " You should hear what my father has to say about 
 that confounded house," laughed Edgar. " I believe 
 worrying about it keeps him awake at night." 
 
 " Has Mr. Coop any family yet ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " No, I'm sorry to say. He's so devoted to children, 
 like some one else I could mention." 
 
 Jeannie deftly turned the subject into less embarrassing 
 channels. When the tarts and custard were on the table, 
 Joe surprised her by saying : 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 151 
 
 " I'm giving up the house, Jeannie." 
 
 " Joe ! " 
 
 " It's too big for me now, and what with one thing 
 and another, I think it's the best thing to be done." 
 
 She did not speak for a moment, old associations flooding 
 her mind. 
 
 " But what are you going to do ? " she, presently, 
 asked. 
 
 " I shall take a room somewhere. It isn't very much 
 that I want." 
 
 " But what about the furniture and all the old things ? " 
 
 " I shall keep the best, and you'd better tell me what 
 you want, as it will all be yours some day." 
 
 " You won't get rid of the clock ? " 
 
 " The old grandfather ! Never that, Jeannie. He's 
 too old a friend to lose after all these years. Why ! I 
 was listening to his ticking in the minutes before you were 
 born." 
 
 When the simple meal was over, Joe furnished a further 
 surprise to Jeannie. 
 
 " I'm not living alone, Jeannie," he began. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " For all my objections to letting you have a dog, I've 
 got one myself." 
 
 " What is he ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " It's a she. A mongrel, but such a dear. I found 
 her starving in the road, and when I took her back and 
 fed her, she made such a fuss of me I hadn't the heart 
 to turn her out." 
 
 " What do you call her ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " ' Lassie.' I've only had her a week, but we're absurdly 
 attached to one another already." 
 
 Jeannie was sorry she had asked Kate if the pie were 
 home-made. 
 
 This was not the only regret she knew. 
 
 Apart from the knowledge that the old home she 
 remembered so well was to be broken up, she had an uneasy 
 
1 52 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 sense that the social ideals she cherished were scarcely 
 so admirable as she usually believed them to be, which 
 conviction was caused by the sheer honesty inspired by 
 Joe's homespun personality. 
 
 So far as her worries would permit, she was more con- 
 siderate to Joe than she had been for some time. 
 
 " What about your retiring from the railway ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " That can wait," he informed her. 
 
 " You mean to say you're not going to retire as soon 
 as you can ? " she asked, in amazement. 
 
 " There's no knowing what I'm going to do," he replied 
 evasively. 
 
 " But— but " 
 
 " I shall be quite happy whatever I do," he told her. 
 
 When he was about to go, after taking an affectionate 
 leave of Jeannie, a cordial one of her husband, he fidgeted 
 uneasily before saying : 
 
 " I don't know how you young people are getting on, 
 but if you are ever in any fix you have only to come to 
 me. 
 
 " I shouldn't think of it, Joe," protested Jeannie. 
 
 " I know I'm a poor man, but I'm not so poor that I 
 might not be able to give you a lift. Good-night, dear. 
 And God bless you both." 
 
 When Edgar was showing him out, Jeaimie was following, 
 when she was seized with terror at realising how she must 
 interfere with her husband's high spirits by communicating 
 Turk's ill news. She fearfuUy wondered how he would 
 take it, as she hastened into the dining-room where the 
 application for the club subscription stared her reproach- 
 fully in the face. 
 
 The slamming of the door was followed by the appear- 
 ance of her husband, who, as he came into the room, 
 asked : 
 
 " I wonder what on earth happened to Mountjoy, 
 little Jeannie?" 
 
21 ELM GROVE, W. 153 
 
 She did not reply, at which he looked at her, to discover 
 her forlorn appearance. 
 
 " What is it, little Jeannie ? " 
 
 " I've bad news, dear." 
 
 " Bills ? " 
 
 She handed him the fateful letter, which he took and 
 read without saying a word. 
 
 His silence persisting, she glanced at him timidly : his 
 face was set and hard. 
 
 " Why didn't you teU me before ? " he asked. 
 
 " I — I didn't want to spoil your evening," she faltered. 
 
 " A clerkship : a damned clerkship ! I suppose I shall 
 have to take it. But a damned clerkship ! " He paced 
 the little room greatly agitated, when he perceived that 
 Jeannie's eyes were aswim with tears. 
 
 " I am a brute," he remarked reproachfully. 
 
 " Dearest ! " 
 
 " I'm only thinking of myself when all the time you've 
 been suffering in order to give me a happy evening. 
 Forgive me, sweetheart." 
 
 He took her in his arms ; while he kissed happiness 
 into her eyes, he reached behind her and, taking the 
 application from the club, he crunched it in his hand 
 before throwing it into the fireplace. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 TEA AT TITTERTON'S 
 
 For all Edgar's appreciation of Jeannie's concealment of 
 the indifferent news from Turk, he was not one of the 
 many who take to the ignominious drudgery of City em- 
 ployment with a hght heart. 
 
 It irked him not a little to have to leave Hammersmith 
 station by the 9.8 on weekdays in order to be on his stool 
 at ten. He hated the regular hours, the ordered work, the 
 confinement indoors ; he had little or nothing in common 
 with his fellow-workers, and when he came home quite 
 tired out at something after six, Jeannie found it as much 
 as she could do to coax him into any approach to his 
 normal light-hearted self. 
 
 Otherwise, the three pounds a week he earned made a 
 considerable difference to the little household, stopping 
 the frequent calls which had been made on Edgar's dwind- 
 ling capital. 
 
 Jeannie was an admirable housekeeper ; she had the 
 knack of getting more out of a shilling than most people 
 from sixpence ; indeed, husband and wife could have lived 
 with some approach to comfort of sorts were it not for the 
 former's extravagant leanings. 
 
 He would frequently ask Mount] oy home to dinner, 
 when he would expect a presentable meal to be served : 
 he indulged in cigars and such-Uke trifling luxuries, and 
 had an indifferent sense of the value of money : the little 
 presents he frequently bought Jeannie, while delighting 
 his wife, caused her many anxious moments by reason of 
 their cost, however insignificant it might be. 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S 155 
 
 Although the weeks were speeding, and it was now summer, 
 Baverstock stUl ignored his son's existence; Bevill did 
 likewise with regard to his brother, while Mrs. Baverstock 
 had not yet found time to call. 
 
 From what Mabel divulged on the erratic visits she paid 
 to Elm Grove, Jeannie gathered how Edgar's headstrong 
 sister frequently gave her parents what she called " a 
 warm time." 
 
 Although Joe had long since given up his httle house 
 and gone to live in rooms at Putney, Jeannie did not see 
 so much of him as she might have done, considering that 
 he made use of Hammersmith station twice every weekday : 
 he never called unless asked, and such invitations were 
 infrequently given owing to Edgar being tired of an even- 
 ing, at least, so Jeannie told herself. 
 
 She did not mean to be unkind to Joe, but she was so 
 wrapped up in the object of her love that she had little 
 thought for anything else in the world. 
 
 Also, as on the occasion of Joe's visit on the evening 
 Edgar had been disappointed of his expected employment, 
 her father's transparent honesty gave her inconvenient 
 searchings of heart with regard to social pretensions she 
 had known since she had married Edgar. 
 
 As if this were not enough to discourage her from inviting 
 her father, she believed that his presence served to urge 
 upon her husband that his troubles were caused by his 
 quixotic marriage. 
 
 Occasionally, should she happen to go out of an evening, 
 she would fancy she saw some one very like Joe hovering 
 about at the High Road end of the little street ; but when 
 she reached the main thoroughfare, this person was not 
 to be seen, at which she would put down the impression 
 to fancy. She was still possessed by social ambitions, 
 but realised their futility while they were still so badly off. 
 
 True, she had made the acquaintance of a buxom matron 
 when shopping, and had been asked first to call and then 
 to an " Early and Social " at that person's house in the 
 
IS6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Grove, Hammersmith, which invitation she had accepted 
 on learning that Edgar was dining with Mount] oy on the 
 same evening. Mrs. Blowers, her hostess, was the mother 
 of a large family of varied musical accomplishments, and 
 the entertainment consisted of the playing of the differ, 
 ent instruments her sons and daughters had laboriously 
 learned. 
 
 Mr. Blowers, who, his wife informed Jeannie, was a 
 bank of&cial, whatever that was, although he did not put 
 in an appearance, made a distinct impression on the com- 
 pany. Believing that the world would be better for 
 going to bed in good time, he turned off the gas at the 
 meter punctually at ten, at which the guests had to say 
 good-night, and find their way out with the aid of matches 
 Ut by members of the Blowers family, who made urgent 
 requests that the musical instruments, which were lying 
 about, should not be trodden upon. 
 
 Apart from her perfunctory acquaintance with this 
 family, Jeannie's only other callers were her husband's 
 cousins, the Hiblings ; indeed, with Mrs. Hibling she had 
 struck up something of a friendship. The latter came 
 about once a week, when she retailed to Jeannie the long 
 Ust of society notabilities whom she knew by sight and 
 had encountered in her walks. 
 
 Yet, for all her prepossessions with regard to the en- 
 deavour to make two reluctant ends meet, Jeannie was, 
 on the whole, supremely happy ; indeed she never reaUsed 
 how blissful her life was until her later years of stress. 
 
 Her ever-deepening love for her husband seemed, as if 
 with the touch of a magician's wand, to ennoble and 
 beautify the commonest household tasks with which it 
 gladdened her heart to take infinite pains, inasmuch as 
 she was doing something for the loved one and his home. 
 
 Those who passed the faded, stucco, semi-detached 
 villa, had not the remotest conception of the golden, 
 romantic happiness its walls enshrined. 
 
 One August morning, Jeannie came down to breakfast 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S 15; 
 
 betimes ; she went into the little front garden by way of 
 the French windows, in order to pick for the breakfast- 
 table a few flowers she had contrived to grow. 
 
 Outside the front door were the two papers, The Daily 
 Telegraph and The Morning Post, which Edgar had ordered 
 to be delivered every morning. Jeannie, so far as she would 
 admit that her husband could do other than right, rather 
 objected to the extravagance which, in her opinion, these 
 papers denoted. She could have used the shilling a week they 
 represented to good purpose in her household expenditure ; 
 also, as she had no interest in anything that did not pertain 
 to her home, she found it hard to believe her husband was 
 not of the same mind. 
 
 Then she fell to thinking of his description of a board 
 meeting of the company that employed him, particularly 
 of one of the directors, who was not only notoriously 
 wealthy, but the nephew of the Earl of Brentwood. 
 Directly this personage (his name was Byfleet) got inside 
 the board-room, he would send a messenger for a pint of 
 old ale and some bread and cheese. When this arrived, 
 Byfleet would pace up and down with the jug of beer in 
 his hand, from which he would occasionally take a drink ; 
 when he, presently, ate the bread and cheese, he would 
 flick with his thumb pieces against the ceiling. 
 
 Jeannie was rather perplexed by this eccentric behaviour 
 in one occupying such an exalted position. She was elated, 
 however, to hear he had taken a fancy to Edgar, which 
 might lead to his early advancement. 
 
 Hearing his step on the stairs, she went quickly indoors, 
 all unaware that the ship of her happiness was about to 
 have the nastiest of jars, and on the rock on which most 
 couples who wed on insufficient means come to grief. 
 
 " What are you doing to-day ? " asked Edgar, as he 
 cracked his one egg. jeannie, from motives of economy, 
 had lately affected to dislike such things. 
 
 " Lucy Hibling is coming over after lunch." 
 
 " Will she be in when I come back ? " 
 
IS8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " I don't think so. We're only going for a walk up 
 Netting HiU." 
 
 " Don't bring her back if you can help it, Jeannie. 
 Talking about dukes and duchesses isn't particularly 
 stimulating when one's as hard up as we are." 
 
 There was such a suggestion of bitterness in his voice 
 that she glanced at him timidly before saying : 
 
 " Perhaps Mr. Byfleet may do something for us." 
 
 He made no reply to her remark. After glancing at the 
 heading of one of his papers, which Jeannie had brought 
 in, he remarked : 
 
 " The 2ist ! How the months pass ! " 
 
 " Don't forget the rent is almost due, dear." 
 
 "Eh!" 
 
 " The landlord grumbled before when it was not paid 
 directly it " 
 
 She did not finish, being dismayed by the expression on 
 her husband's face. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " What is it, Edgar ? " asked Jeannie, in alarm. 
 
 " I've clean forgotten the rent," he replied, as he pushed 
 away his half-eaten egg. 
 
 They stared at each other in blank astonishment, although 
 it must be confessed that Jeannie was the more disturbed 
 of the two, she having a far keener realisation of the value 
 of money. 
 
 " What's to be done, dear ? " she asked presently. 
 
 " Give it up," he said wearily, to add a little later : "I 
 can always raise some more of my little capital." 
 
 " We don't want to do that." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but, speaking for myself — myself mind — 
 I often feel I'd like to raise and ' blow ' every farthing 
 of it. And then we'd know exactly where we were." 
 
 He spoke so bitterly that she was moved to exclaim 
 reproachfully : 
 
 " Edgar ! " 
 
 " I've certainly got four pounds towards the rent," he 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S 159 
 
 went on as before, " but I had some idea of our going 
 somewhere with it in the week's hoUday they've promised 
 me next month." 
 
 " I will willingly give up going." 
 
 " And I shall have to whether I like to or not," he re- 
 marked. Before her trembling lips could formulate any 
 reply, he went on : 
 
 " I tell you what it is, little Jeannie. Whatever holes 
 we get into, you have only yourself to thank for being 
 so foolish as to marry a confounded pauper like myself. 
 If you'd only kept your head, you might have married 
 sensibly, and been spared all these wretched, sordid 
 worries. As it is, you'll be up to your neck in them 
 before you know where you are." 
 
 Although he was seemingly pitying her, she perceived 
 he was sympathising with himself. 
 
 " Am — am I complaining ? " she was presently able to 
 ask. 
 
 " No. And that makes it harder for me," he declared, 
 in a wilful access of unreason. 
 
 During the silence that followed, they both made a fine 
 pretence of going on with their respective breakfasts, 
 while, for her part, Jeannie had much ado to stop herself 
 from bursting into tears. 
 
 Vague thoughts of asking Joe for help hovered in her 
 mind, but she knew well enough that her pride would not 
 suffer her to make this appeal. 
 
 " I'm willing to go without anything I particularly 
 wanted," she hazarded. 
 
 " I know you are, and that's what makes it so hard for 
 me, as I said before. I'm always reproaching myself I 
 can't make more money and keep you in comfort and 
 free from these worries." 
 
 For all this exhibition of concern for her feelings, he 
 remained obstinately silent until it was time for him to 
 start for the 9.8. 
 
 A kiss, a tender word would have done much to allay 
 
i6o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 her distress. As these were not forthcoming, she could 
 only dumbly watch his preparations for departure. 
 
 When she perceived he was going without giving her his 
 customary embrace, she forced herself to say : 
 
 " You'll be back at the usual time ! " 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " And we can then talk over what is best to be done." 
 
 He laughed mirthlessly as he opened the front door. 
 
 " Edgar ! Edgar ! " she cried desperately. " Don't 
 go for a moment. I want to say this." 
 
 " Be quick. I shall have to hurry as it is." 
 
 His discouragement was such that it was only with an 
 effort that she forced herself to say : 
 
 " Don't think I mind at all for myself ; it's only for 
 you, because you are not used to such troubles. But so 
 far as I am concerned, always, always remember that I'm 
 quite content and happy so long as you love me." 
 
 " Thank you, Jeannie," was all he said in reply. 
 
 The glimpse she caught of his engaging profile as he 
 turned out of the gate stimulated the sufferings begotten 
 of his coldness. 
 
 She passed a wretched morning, during which the 
 minutes seemed like long-drawn hours ; at one o'clock, 
 she had no heart for food, and when Mrs. Hibling called at 
 something after two, perhaps the latter approximated 
 to the truth in declaring that " dear, sweet, pretty Jeannie 
 reminded her like nothing else in the world of the dear 
 Duchess of Salisbury after her recent sad bereavement." 
 
 When they, presently, set out for their walk, the air, 
 the warm autumn sunshine, to some extent blunted 
 Jeannie's griefs, and enabled her to take some interest 
 in the shop windows they inspected and in her friend's 
 conversation. 
 
 But at the back of her mind there were lurking dismal 
 apprehensions regarding Edgar's love for her and their 
 financial difficulties. 
 
 For all Lucy Hibling's abiding affection for the 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S i6i 
 
 aristocracy, and her habit of seasoning her conversation 
 with references to its members and its doings, she was a 
 past mistress in the art of shopping ; indeed, it was only 
 after meeting with her that Jeannie knew searchings of 
 heart with reference to her own housekeeping capacities, 
 Lucy Hibling possessing an encyclopaedic knowledge 
 where groceries and provisions of aU kinds could be 
 obtained at fractions of a penny less than the current 
 price. 
 
 At a bargain sale, she was in her element, pushing and 
 comparing and cheapening with the most expert. 
 
 It was not that she had to be careful of her husband's 
 pocket, he being an insurance broker in a fair way of 
 business, but like many others of her sex she was 
 possessed by a passion for economy. 
 
 Three boxes of Swedish matches were doled out every 
 Monday morning for her own, husband's, and their one 
 servant's use ; should any of these be exhausted before 
 the week was out, her heart was adamant with regard 
 to providing more. 
 
 Presently, Mrs. Hibling got on to the subject of Edgar. 
 
 " Such a dear. He might have married any one," 
 she said, at which Jeannie knew a tugging at her heart- 
 strings. Mrs. Hibling went on : 
 
 " Has it ever occurred to you that he's so like Lord 
 Waycott, Lord Garling's eldest son ? He's in the Rifle 
 Brigade." 
 
 Jeannie, knowing nothing of the kind, murmured, 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " The dear fellow's married to " 
 
 A touch upon Jeannie's arm caused her to turn sharply, 
 when she saw that Titterton had approached her from 
 behind, a Titterton who looked older and more purposeful 
 than the lovelorn young man she had known. 
 
 " I thought it was Mrs. Edgar Baverstock," he said. 
 " Do you mind ray speaking to you ? " 
 
 " Why should I ? " 
 II 
 
1 62 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " It's such a long time since I saw anything of you, 
 and " 
 
 " Why don't you walk with us a little way ? " 
 
 " May I ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " replied Jeannie, before introducing 
 Titterton to Mrs. Hibling. 
 
 Just then, Jeannie dropped her handkerchief ; as the 
 railway clerk stooped to pick it up, Mrs. Hibling whispered 
 to her friend : 
 
 " He's quite good-looking ; and so like the Honourable 
 Arthur Faulkner, Lord Hulton's second son." 
 
 Both Mrs. Hibling and Jeannie were ignorant of the 
 social solecism the former had committed. 
 
 Meantime, Jeannie was disposed to regret her precipit- 
 ancy in asking her old admirer to accompany her ; she 
 had been moved by a feminine curiosity to discover if he 
 still cared for her, but, as she had been brought up in an 
 atmosphere in which wives scarcely so much as looked 
 at any man other than their husbands, she wondered if 
 her present conduct were in the nature of an infidelity 
 to Edgar : at the same time, she could not hide from 
 herself how Titterton's company not only eased her load 
 of care but gave a spice of adventure to what had 
 promised to be a commonplace afternoon. 
 
 To Jeannie's gratification, Titterton ignored Mrs. 
 Hibling and addressed his remarks exclusively to her ; 
 also, his eyes constantly sought her face, from which she 
 intuitively divined he was stiU attracted by her. 
 
 It was not long before he spoke of Joe, when it occurred 
 to Jeannie that her companion was out and about when 
 he should have been at his desk. 
 
 " How is it you are not with my father ? " she asked. 
 
 " Don't you know ? " 
 
 " Know what ? " 
 
 " Hasn't he told you ? I've left the ' G.W.' and am 
 going out shortly to Canada." 
 
 " I haven't seen my father lately." 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S 163 
 
 " I thought he saw you constantly." 
 
 " And you are actually going to Canada ? " 
 
 " In three weeks." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 She repeated her question. 
 
 "There's nothing to be done where I am. I want to 
 strike out for myself." 
 
 " But it's a hard life." 
 
 " rU chance that." 
 
 Jeannie appreciated him as she had never done before ; 
 she turned to Mrs. Hibling and told her of Titterton's 
 intention of going abroad. 
 
 " Just like so many younger sons," was Lucy Hibling's 
 characteristic comment. 
 
 " Are you still Hving in Shepherd's Bush ? " asked 
 Jeannie of Titterton. 
 
 " I've left there since my father died. I'm living quite 
 near here." 
 
 " How many more surprises ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " It's a house that belonged to my father, and since 
 I can't let it, I have to live in it myself." 
 
 " Can't let it ? " queried Mrs. Hibling. 
 
 " I believe it's too big for the neighbourhood. It's 
 only a few minutes from here. Perhaps you'd like to 
 see it ! " 
 
 Upon the two women assenting, Titterton piloted them 
 along a turning to the left, which led into a square of 
 surprisingly big, rather dOapidated-looking houses. 
 
 " Mine's No. 13," said Titterton, as he produced a 
 key. 
 
 " Unlucky number," commented Jeannie. 
 
 " Not to-day," he replied gravely. 
 
 They went up the steps and into the outer and inner 
 haUs, which latter spacious place was furnished with the 
 tiniest and most rickety of veneered mahogany hatstands. 
 Through the open door of the vast dining-room Jeannie 
 
i64 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 perceived a bicycle leaning against a wall ; otherwise, it 
 was destitute of furniture. 
 
 They ascended the broad staircase ; this was meanly 
 and very partially covered so far as the first landing with 
 a strip of poor stair carpet ; afterwards, the stairs were 
 bare. 
 
 " I've only got the furniture from the old house," 
 explained Titterton. " I'm afraid it doesn't go very 
 far." 
 
 " But I've heard it's quite fashionable nowadays to have 
 as little furniture as possible," said Mrs. Hibling, in the 
 endeavour to be pleasant. 
 
 Titterton opened one of the two drawing-room doors, 
 and when Jeannie entered she found herself in a very 
 large double drawing-room, the three fine front windows 
 of which overlooked the square. 
 
 The back room was empty, but forming two tiny 
 oases of habitation in the angles of the larger drawing- 
 room were two squares of threadbare carpet, on one of 
 which was the dining-room furniture of the Shepherd's 
 Bush house, on the other, that of the draAving-room. The 
 vastness of the apartment emphasised and called attention 
 to the poor little chiffonier, the round table, and chairs, 
 upholstered in American cloth, on one side ; to the 
 rickety odds and ends, and gaudy modern china of the 
 drawing-room corner : a small gilt-framed glass stuck 
 on the noble marble mantelshelf appeared pathetically 
 ludicrous. 
 
 " I'd no idea the furniture went such a little way," 
 said Titterton ruefully. " Perhaps I shouldn't have asked 
 you in." 
 
 " It's all delightful and ever so charmin'," cried Mrs. 
 Hibling, who had lately got hold of the idea that it was 
 aristocratic to drop her " g's." " And where do you 
 sleep ? " 
 
 " In the room overhead," replied Titterton, from which 
 Jeannie rightly divined that this apartment was furnished 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S 165 
 
 to the same proportionate extent as the room she 
 was in. 
 
 " Now you've been good enough to come in, perhaps you'll 
 let me make you some tea." 
 
 " By aU means," said Jeannie. She was making a bee- 
 line for the dining-room corner when she was sharply 
 motioned to the drawing-room portion by Mrs. Hibling, 
 who was eager to do quite the right thing. 
 
 Titterton produced and lit a spirit stove, and put the 
 kettle upon it ; then, he went out of the room, to return 
 with plates, knives, cups, saucers, bread, butter, and 
 little cakes. 
 
 " Let me help you," said Jeannie, rising and taking off 
 her gloves. 
 
 " Thank you all the same, but please don't. I make 
 a point of doing everything for myself." 
 
 " Indeed," said Jeannie, in a non-committal manner, 
 while Mrs. Hibling rather put her nose in the air. 
 
 " You see," explained Titterton, " I shall probably have 
 to rough it and camp out in Canada ; doing these things 
 for myself is a sort of preparation." 
 
 " Quite so," assented enthusiasticEilly a mollified Mrs. 
 Hibling : the more natural part of her was becoming 
 attracted by her host's unaffected simplicity. 
 
 WhUe the water was being heated, Titterton made the 
 bread and butter so clumsily that Jeannie, who could cut 
 it like an angel, again proffered her assistance. 
 
 " Please don't," replied Titterton. " It's all a pre- 
 paration for the life out there." 
 
 While he was making preparations for tea, Jeannie 
 noticed how frequently his eyes sought hers ; indeed, she 
 put down the clumsy performance with the bread-knife 
 largely to the interest she held for Titterton. 
 
 She was both gratified and embarrassed by this attention, 
 and at last she nervously took up some pamphlets that 
 were almost torn in half : they were socialistic tracts. 
 
 " Don't you want these ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
i66 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " No fear. I was keen on socialism for a time ; but all 
 the socialists I knew were always quarrelling amongst 
 themselves, so I've dropped it." 
 
 While they were having tea, that was made, bachelor 
 fashion, with scarcely boiling water, Jeannie said to 
 Titterton : 
 
 " Why were you so surprised when I didn't know you 
 had left the railway ? " 
 
 " I thought Mr. Pilcher would have told you." 
 
 " I haven't seen him so very lately." 
 
 " I thought from what he told me he saw such a lot of 
 you." 
 
 " Not so very much," said Jeannie, slightly reddening. 
 
 " But I should have thought " 
 
 " Then you haven't forgotten to ask after me some- 
 times ? " she interrupted. 
 
 He dropped his eyes before replying : 
 
 " Not altogether." 
 
 Although Jeannie longed to see Edgar, she dieaded 
 spending an evening with him if he were out of temper, 
 which unhappy condition of things she had every reason 
 to expect after his behaviour of the morning ; consequently, 
 she made a longer stay than she otherwise would have done. 
 
 " How is your husband getting on ? " he asked, when 
 he took Jeannie's cup. 
 
 " Very well. But then he works very hard." 
 
 " It is a privilege to work for you," he declared simply, 
 at which Jeannie felt both flattered and conscience-stricken 
 for allowing another man to pay her compliments. 
 
 " Wish me luck," said Titterton, when Jeannie offered 
 her hand at parting. 
 
 " With aU my heart," she declared, in all sincerity. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He accompanied them so far as Netting Hill, where he 
 stood and watched Jeannie till she was out of sight. 
 
 " I believe that man cares for you," said Mrs. Hibling, 
 when they had left Titterton. 
 
TEA AT TITTERTON'S 167 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " asked a curious 
 Jeannie ; when the other enumerated her reasons, all she 
 replied was, " Nonsense." 
 
 Jeannie, fearing Edgar would be home before her, a 
 thing that had not happened since he had gone to the 
 City, took a hurried farewell of her friend at the Broadway, 
 and hurried to Elm Grove where she had the not unfamiliar 
 experience of things turning out in quite a different manner 
 from what she had expected. 
 
 An anxious Edgar awaited her at the gate ; directly 
 she reached him, in defiance of publicity, he kissed her 
 before saying : 
 
 " Where on earth has my darling been ? " 
 
 She was so moved by his unexpected greeting that she 
 looked at him with an adorable perturbation. 
 
 " I love you — I love you," he went on. " Forgive me 
 for this morning, and come inside. I've something to 
 show you." 
 
 Delightedly wondering what was toward, she accom- 
 panied her husband indoors. 
 
 " What do you think of that ? " he cried, handing her 
 a letter. 
 
 It was from his father ; after lamenting their estrange- 
 ment, it invited Edgar and Jeannie to a dinner-party 
 at " Pyracantha " where, if a certain financial big-wig 
 were at all impressed by Edgar, there was every prospect 
 of his doing him a good turn with regard to providing 
 him with appropriate employment. 
 
 " What do you think of that, ' Goldy Locks ' ? " cried 
 Edgar. 
 
 Before she could express her gratification, he went on : 
 
 " I can't tell you, little Jeannie, how I loathe and hate 
 my present job : to be at the beck and call of one's social 
 inferiors, to have to keep regular hours, do commonplace 
 work, and look after other people's money is simply heU 
 for me. I despise the drudgery and despise myself for 
 doing it, knowing all the time I was in the ranks of labour 
 
i68 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 that men in my class of life look down upon. You look 
 surprised, little Jeannie, but you must know that I was 
 born among those who employ ; and to be amongst the 
 employed is degradation. What am I saying ? I'm a 
 right-down Baverstock through and through. And what 
 I've said proves it. But never mind, little Jeannie, I'm 
 out of it now, or will be very soon. Isn't my dearest 
 darling delighted ? " 
 
 If Jeannie had been capable of sober reason, which she 
 was not, she might have taken exception to his abhorrence 
 of work that, after all, was undertaken for her, particularly 
 after what Titterton had said on the same subject : also, 
 she might have pertinently reminded him that he had 
 married into the class he affected to despise. 
 
 But just now she was blinded to every other considera- 
 tion but the fact that her husband loved her after all; 
 that his life would not be marred from having allied 
 himself to her. 
 
 Directly he had spoken, she flew to his arms, and hiding 
 her face on his shoulder wept happy tears — tears which 
 he kissed away with the tenderest of endearments. 
 
 That night, they sat up till ever so late in affectionate, 
 intimate converse, and made plans for the future on the 
 strength of Baverstock's communication. 
 
 It was one of the happiest evenings she had ever spent. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 
 
 Six o'clock on the evening of Baverstock's dinner-party 
 found Jeannie putting the finishing touches to her person 
 in the bedroom while Edgar, who had made a point of 
 leaving business early, was shaving against time in the 
 tiny bathroom. 
 
 At a quarter to seven, a hired brougham would carry 
 them to " Pyracantha " in time for half -past seven 
 dinner, a time which in those far-away days was con- 
 sidered daringly smart for Putney. 
 
 The brougham was by no means the only extravagance 
 in which Edgar and his wife had indulged in order to 
 make a brave show before relations and guests : sufficient 
 money had been raised (from Edgar's capital) to buy 
 Jeannie a resplendent dinner-gown, which was of ivory 
 sUk with collar and cuffs of old embroidery. 
 
 It was this expensive frock to which, with trembling 
 hands, Jeannie was putting the finishing touches. 
 
 This expenditure had not been incurred with a view to 
 vulgar display, but from motives of sheer expediency, it 
 being necessary to give Bringeman, Baverstock's influential 
 friend, the impression of not being in financial extremity. 
 
 Edgar had twice lunched with his father in the City 
 
 after receiving his letter of reconciliation, when the latter 
 
 had insisted how the great Bringeman was an arrant 
 
 snob, and would not do anything for any one who was at 
 
 all in need of assistance : Baverstock had as good as tolp 
 
 Edgar that, if he and his wife could not appear as 
 
 if they were in the habit of " doing themselves well," 
 
 169 
 
I/O THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 as he termed it, they would be better advised not to 
 come. 
 
 Hence these preparations. 
 
 Edgar had been a different man since there was every 
 prospect of bettering himself ; he was the light-hearted 
 self of the old days, and as such he the more endeared 
 himself to his adoring Jeannie, who owing, as she conceived 
 it, to her inabihty to express adequately her consuming 
 love was wont to indulge in dismal half-hours of self- 
 depreciation. 
 
 Such, however, were remote from her thoughts this 
 evening. 
 
 She had determined to assist her husband to the utmost 
 of her ability ; to this end, she had tired herself with 
 meticulous care, when even her exacting self-criticism was 
 delighted at her appearance. 
 
 TaU, of a surpassing. fairness, slight, she yet possessed 
 a figure that was surprisingly developed for one of her 
 build. She had never worn such a low-cut frock before; 
 her trepidations with regard to its complete propriety 
 heightened the colour on her cheek and enhanced the shy 
 sweetness of her eyes. 
 
 The frock and the brougham were not the only pre- 
 parations they had made for their evening's campaign ; 
 when discussing the adventure, husband and wife, 
 apparently for fun, had taken to speaking of men and 
 things from the pretentious point of view which might 
 be expected to obtain at the dinner-table where Bringe- 
 man was an honoured guest : the experiment had been 
 laughingly repeated : neither of them guessed how serious 
 the other was. 
 
 " Wni I do ? " she asked, when Edgar came into the 
 room. 
 
 Rather to her dismay he did not immediately reply, 
 but fell to examining her attentively. 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! " he complained. 
 
 " Am I a failure after all ? " she cried, aghast. 
 
THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 171 
 
 " How easily my sweetheart is taken in," he laughed, 
 as he made as if he would take her in his arms. She 
 dexterously avoided his embrace, at which he said : 
 
 " What's that in Mademoiselle de Maupanf ? " 
 
 " What's that ? " 
 
 " A naughty book." 
 
 " I haven't read it." 
 
 " I hope not indeed. But it says there that the supreme 
 test of love is whether or not a woman will let her lover 
 kiss her when she's wearing all her finery, or words to 
 that effect." 
 
 " I'm certainly not going to let you kiss me now," she 
 declared. 
 
 " Don't you love me well enough for that ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Jeannie ! " 
 
 " How easUy you're taken in," she laughed merrily, 
 before bending over to give him the tiniest kiss. 
 
 When the brougham arrived, they drove off in state, and 
 when Jeannie had got over the novelty of being in such 
 an unaccustomed conveyance, she placed a hand on her 
 husband's knee, and said : 
 
 " I wonder if everything will go right." 
 
 " It must, little Jeannie. It must, because you and I 
 simply must have money. What's that Spanish proverb ? " 
 
 " I don't know any Spanish." 
 
 " Neither do I, or very little. But I know the proverb, 
 and it's this : " With money one does not know oneself : 
 without it, no one knows you." 
 
 They laughed gaUy and talked, which conversation 
 gradually became more and more subdued, until complete 
 silence obtained and prevailed. They were both obsessed 
 by the importance of what was toward. 
 
 When they reached Putney, Jeannie noticed, so far as 
 her perturbation would permit, that there was something 
 of a fog. 
 
 Presently, when the brougham deposited its excited 
 
172 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 contents at the gate of a brightly lit " Pyracantha," she 
 noticed how four or five cabs passed in quick succession, 
 to draw up before a house that had not existed when she 
 had last called at the Baverstocks'. 
 
 As one in a dream, she was conducted to her mother-in- 
 law's bedroom, to find Edgar awaiting her at the foot of the 
 stairs when she came down. 
 
 Conscious of the value of first impressions, he eagerly 
 scanned her. She glanced at him with pitifully inquiring 
 eyes, at which he transported her into a heaven of delight 
 by whispering : 
 
 " You'll do, little Jeannie. Hold up your head, and 
 Jsfiepithe flag flying." 
 
 Then, Jeannie heard " Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Baverstock " 
 announced by the man-servant ; the next moment, aware 
 that all eyes were critically examining her, she advanced 
 with her husband into the big, garish drawing-room to 
 greet her frail-looking mother-in-law. 
 
 Hardly had she been tenderly kissed and welcomed by 
 Mrs. Baverstock, when the latter's husband effusively 
 greeted Jeannie, from which she divined that her turnout 
 and appearance were pleasing in the eyes that rarely 
 smUed. These greedily appraised her, as he said in an 
 undertone : 
 
 " I was foolish enough to be angry with Edgar ; now 
 I envy him." 
 
 She was soon free of his attentions, for Bevill and Mabel 
 pressed about her, while she noticed that Edgar, who 
 was talking to his mother, was more than pleased by the 
 favourable impression she had made. 
 
 Almost directly, the man-servant announced that 
 " dinner was served," at which Mrs. Baverstock advanced 
 on Jeannie, accompanied by an imposing-looking man 
 who was introduced as Mr. Bringeman. He was to take 
 her in to dinner. 
 
 " We will have a quiet talk presently, dear," said Mrs. 
 Baverstock to Jeannie, as she left her. 
 
THE MOMENTOUS MEAL i;3 
 
 In the brief interval before a move was made to the 
 dining-room across the hall, to which Jeannie, by reason 
 of her being in the eyes of her host still a bride, was taken 
 in first, she was able to obtain some idea of the man who 
 had the power to contribute so extensively to her husband's 
 and her own happiness. 
 
 There was no getting away from the fact that Bringeman 
 had substance written large over his massive person ; 
 he exuded prosperity at every pore; indeed, for all his 
 evening-dress, he looked as if his most appropriate attire 
 would be the fur- lined overcoat, glossy tall hat, and roomy 
 boots of the City magnate. 
 
 He was by way of being distinguished looking, having 
 a big aquiline nose, a well-trimmed, pointed grey beard, 
 and a long moustache, which was waxed at the ends. 
 
 Otherwise, he was possessed of a faint Cockney accent 
 and an immense conceit, which, apparent in his eyes, 
 seemingly urged him barely to tolerate his species, and 
 then only to suffer them with an irritating condescension. 
 
 Although when seated at a corner of the table, with 
 Baverstock and Bringeman on either side, Jeannie was 
 outwardly calm, within, she was painfully apprehensive 
 of how she would come through her ordeal ; she could 
 have despaired utterly but for Edgar's presence (he seemed 
 to expand in the prosperous atmosphere of his old home) 
 and the encouragement of his mother's kindly eyes, which 
 constantly sought her own. 
 
 While the hors d'ceuvres and soup were being consumed, 
 little was said, and that chiefly about the fog, there being 
 a depressing constraint over the gathering : but when 
 Jeannie had swallowed the turtle soup, in which queer 
 little bits of green fat were floating, she was heartened 
 into glancing about her. 
 
 Directly she looked up, she was conscious that the men 
 other than Edgar, who faced her, were furtively regarding 
 her, whUe the women whose glances she encountered 
 looked at her venomously, from which two facts she might, 
 
174 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 if more sophisticated in the ways of the world, have 
 divined how attractive she looked. 
 
 The next impression she received was that the men 
 present had either predatory noses like Baverstock and 
 Bringeman, or noses of the pug variety, of which the 
 crushed-looking little man almost opposite possessed an 
 arrant specimen. 
 
 As she looked about her, she was disappointed by the 
 appearance of those bidden to the feast : always excepting 
 Edgar and his mother, they, for all their fine clothes, 
 looked prosperously third-rate, which indeed they were. 
 
 The sherry stimulated Mrs. Bringeman, who faced 
 Jeannie, into conversation. 
 
 The financier's wife was a full-throated, fine figure of a 
 woman, for all the fact of her being in the middle fifties : 
 she spoke in a modulated, rather theatrical voice, which 
 she had assumed ever since she had taken part in Shake- 
 sperian readings : she was only interested in herself and in 
 her own somewhat energetic comings and goings; so far 
 as others were concerned, she found that the easiest way 
 of putting up with their existence was to agree cordially 
 with everything that was said, even with the most con- 
 tradictory opinions : for these reasons she was a deadly 
 bore. 
 
 " Are you going South this year ? " she asked of 
 Baverstock. 
 
 " I've no money to lose at Monte," he replied. 
 
 " Perhaps you play roulette when you go ? " 
 
 " Don't you ? " 
 
 " That's exactly what I wished to explain. If you play 
 trente-et-quarante, you stand a much greater chance of 
 winning." 
 
 " I'm afraid there's not very much brought away from 
 Monte," remarked Baverstock, as he smiled with his lips, 
 while his eyes grew hard beneath his shaggy eyebrows at 
 thought of all the money that some lucky people occasion- 
 ally won. 
 
THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 175 
 
 Mrs. Bringeman made the most of the opening she had 
 made : with a redundance of detail, she told how she 
 had won four hundred francs at the game she favoured. 
 
 She had got as far as a description of the play with 
 its two packs of cards, when conversation, after one or 
 two spasmodic outbursts, became general, at which Mrs. 
 Bringeman directed her guns on her host : Baverstock, how- 
 ever, was not bored to any appreciable extent, the savour of 
 the " Soles Livournaise," which were now being served, 
 whole-heartedly claiming his attention. 
 
 When Bringeman had quite finished what was on his 
 plate, he took wine, and wiped his mouth with his napkin 
 before condescendingly saying to Jeannie : 
 
 " Have you ever been as far as Monte Carlo ? " 
 
 " I was there last year," replied Jeannie. 
 
 " Indeed ! Where did you stay ? " 
 
 " At the ' Hermitage.' " 
 
 She did not mention she was there for only four days. 
 
 " Go anywhere after ? " 
 
 " We went into Italy." 
 
 She omitted to mention that Bordighera, a small town 
 just over the border, was their only stopping place. 
 
 " Indeed ! Away long ? " 
 
 " Some months." 
 
 " Ah ! " remarked Bringeman, who was pleasurably 
 surprised at the prosperity suggested by his companion's 
 information. "And now your husband wants something 
 to do." 
 
 The sherry Jeannie had sipped assisted her to the 
 inspiration that possessed her. 
 
 " Does he ? " she asked innocently. 
 
 " He doesn't look as if he did," smiled Bringeman, as he 
 glanced at Edgar, who was amusing the other end of the 
 table with his sallies. 
 
 " Scarcely." 
 
 " Perhaps he wants merely to be kept out of mis- 
 chief ! " 
 
176 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Very likely," said Jeannie, which reply, although 
 commonplace enough, acquired a special significance when 
 spoken by the red lips of an alluring young woman. 
 
 To use a Stock Exchange simile, the fact of Jeannie 
 having been for several weeks in Monte Carlo and Italy 
 sent her up many points in the estimation of the man in 
 whose eyes she was anxious to appear prosperous. 
 
 With a scarcely perceptible diminution of condescension, 
 he asked : 
 
 " Live near here ? " 
 
 " Not very." 
 
 " West End ? " 
 
 " Kensington." 
 
 " Awkward getting back if the fog continues." 
 
 " I dare say we shall be able to drive." 
 
 " Cab ? " 
 
 " Brougham." 
 
 Then, while Bringeman spoke to the woman on his right, 
 Jeannie, with her sensibility to atmospheres, found herself 
 appraising that of the house in which she was being re- 
 ceived as an honoured guest. 
 
 It suggested a selfish, self-satisfied opulence which, for , 
 aU its pretensions, was ever ready to bend the knee to 
 greater prosperity than its own ; also, that its appreciation 
 of things was largely determined by their cost ; finally, 
 and here Jeannie inwardly trembled, that, in its avaricious, 
 money-loving eyes, the worst possible offence was to be poor. 
 
 This stock-jobbing fraternity had one peculiarity in its 
 social predilections of which Jeannie was ignorant. For 
 all its pride of purse, it would humble itself utterly before 
 any unit of the world of society in the true sense of the word ; 
 should this latter person also possess means, its abasement 
 would be abject. 
 
 Jeannie was awakened from her reverie by the voice of 
 the crushed-looking Uttle man opposite, a Mr. Basing 
 Dicker, who for aU the world looked as if a steam-roller 
 had gone over his spirits. 
 
THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 177 
 
 He was questioning Baverstock about his newly arrived 
 next-door neighbour, Mr. Coop. 
 
 Mr. Dicker, nephew of the well-known banker of that 
 name, was by no means the futile person he looked. 
 Over and above being a keen man of business, he had a 
 passion for consorting with lordlings and gilded youths, 
 who tolerated him for his unassuming manners : but the 
 humour of this acquaintance was that Dicker's commercial 
 instincts would get the better of his aristocratic predilec- 
 tions, and, to the astonishment of those to whom he toadied, 
 he would unmercifully fleece them either at " Nap " or 
 " Snooker." 
 
 " What d'ye think of the house next door ? " asked 
 Dicker. 
 
 " Don't speak of it," almost groaned Baverstock. 
 
 " Is it finished ? " 
 
 " Not only is it finished but the people are in." 
 
 " Who are they ? " asked Mrs. Bringeman. 
 
 " Quite impossible," declared Baverstock, with his mouth 
 full of Poularde d la troche : ordinarily, he hated to speak 
 while he was eating, but just now his indignation got the 
 better of his love for his palate. 
 
 " D'ye know anything about them ? " asked Bringeman. 
 
 " Only that his name's Coop, that he seems to have 
 pots of money, and that he has the most vulgar laugh 
 any one ever heard.'' 
 
 " How did he get his money ? " asked the company pro- 
 moter. 
 
 " Invalid furniture." 
 
 " Is there so much money in that ? " 
 
 " There appears to be," replied ^averstock, while his 
 eyes for the twentieth time sought his daughter-in-law's 
 comely person. 
 
 During this conversation, she had much ado to prevent 
 herself from self-consciously flushing. 
 
 Those adjacent to Jeannie, who had been talking, were 
 silent for a few moments, during which she heard BeviU 
 12 
 
i;8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Baverstock retailing to the woman at his side a few facts 
 from his store of elementary science : just now he was 
 relating incidents of stickleback life and the ingenious way 
 the females of that genus set about making a nest in the 
 spawning season. 
 
 Very soon, however, Baverstock returned to the subject 
 of his new neighbour. 
 
 "It's very hard when one puts up a house and one has 
 reckoned on a certain amount of privacy to be built over 
 as I am." 
 
 " You should have bought up the land," remarked 
 Bringeman. 
 
 " Coop was too quick for me," declared Baverstock 
 unblushingly, the truth of the matter being that owing to 
 one of his sudden passions for speculation he had not the 
 means just then to forestall the manufacturer of invalid 
 furniture. 
 
 " Anyway, you must take good care not to know him," 
 said Mr. Bringeman. " If one has next-door neighbours, 
 it's the greatest mistake in the world to have anything 
 to do with them." 
 
 " I shall take good care of that," declared Baverstock 
 grimly. A little later, he said : 
 
 " To-night, of all nights, they've invited a lot of friends : 
 house-warming I suppose they call it. And I hear they've 
 invited all kinds of people ; when I say that I should 
 say people of all ages : children, youngsters, and grown- 
 ups." 
 
 " Children ? " queried crushed-looking Mr. Dicker. 
 
 " Dozens of 'em. I saw them crowding in when I came 
 back from town." 
 
 " Hard lines on Baverstock ! " said Bringeman to 
 Jeannie, who confusedly replied : 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " There's no separating people nowadays," he went on. 
 " The way the lower orders thrust themselves in the faces 
 of their betters is positively appalling ! " 
 
THE MOMENTOUS MEAL 179 
 
 He looked at Jeannie inquiringly : she thought it 
 expedient to agree with him. 
 
 " Happily, people in your position are still able to 
 pick and choose their friends," he went on. 
 
 " True," declared Jeannie, with downcast eyes ; in her 
 heart of hearts, she had an abiding affection for Coop, 
 which even her association with her husband had not 
 weakened. 
 
 At the same time, the champagne she had taken blunted 
 her mind to the vulgar reflections which had been made 
 on her father's old friend, and made her believe that 
 she was in a world where everything happened almost 
 for the best. Not quite for the best, because she dimly, 
 and in her present elated condition, pleasurably realised 
 that at all costs she must escape the censure that would 
 be visited on her by those present did they learn how 
 well she was acquainted with the owner of the offending 
 house next door. 
 
 To this end, she ached for an opportunity to prove 
 convincingly to Bringeman that she and Edgar, who 
 she thought had never looked so handsome, in being 
 far removed from any approximation to poverty, were 
 deserving of his assistance. 
 
 A Mr. Levitt, a swarthy, predatory-nosed, brilliant- 
 eyed man, who was well down on the opposite side of the 
 table, was relating an anecdote of the Prince of Wales 
 (when mentioning him he said " His Royal Highness ") 
 in the manner of one who was on intimate terms with 
 the doings of royalty : the subject seemed congenial to 
 those present, for the same exalted personage's recent 
 doings were discussed at length, during which Mr. Levitt, 
 who, in his heart, despised his fellow-guests for their 
 insensibility to the arts he dabbled in when free of the 
 City, could hardly take his eyes from Jeannie. 
 
 She had no idea how radiant she looked, champagne 
 stimulating her to look her best, and not imparting the 
 vulgar flush with which it disfigures many women. 
 
i8o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 She had, for the time being, so identified herself with 
 the atmosphere of " Pyracantha," that she could hardly 
 realise the shifts and expedients to which she had been 
 daily put in the effort to make two very reluctant ends 
 meet : she felt she was like a latter-day Cinderella who, 
 long before the clock struck twelve, would again find 
 herself in the familiar little semi-detached stucco villa in 
 Elm Grove, Hammersmith. 
 
 She was awakened from her reverie by hearing a familiar 
 name mentioned, that of Lord Brentwood, the uncle of the 
 rich Mr. Byfleet who was one of the directors of the 
 company Edgar worked for. 
 
 The way in which she became slightly animated on 
 hearing the name of Brentwood caused Bringeman to 
 ask : 
 
 " Know the Earl ? " 
 
 " N — not exactly," replied Jeannie, who was surprised 
 at her audacity. " But I know something of his nephew." 
 
 " Freddy Byfleet ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied boldly, although she could not 
 believe that it was she who was talking. Then, vaguely 
 realising the necessity of caution, she asked : 
 
 " Do you know him ? " 
 
 " N — not exactly." 
 
 " Not ? " she queried, with raised eyebrows, while 
 she was conscious how Edgar, although apparently en- 
 gaged with the woman whom he had brought in to dinner, 
 was keenly listening to what she was saying. 
 
 " No. We've been on the point of meeting several 
 times, but it's never come off. And now I hear he's going 
 to drop the City altogether, and go in for big game 
 shooting." 
 
 " Then you're not likely to see much of him ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid not. What's he Hke ? " 
 
 " Rather eccentric," replied a recklessly emboldened 
 Jeannie. 
 
 " Most of his family are. In what way ? " 
 
THE MOMENTOUS MEAL i8i 
 
 " His idea of happiness seems to be to walk about 
 eating bread and cheese, and drink beer from a jug." 
 
 Hardly was this information out of her mouth when 
 she realised how she had been drawing the long bow. At 
 the same time, owing to the increased attention Bringeman 
 loftily paid her, she did not regret her behaviour anything 
 like so much as she otherwise might have done. 
 
 The company promoter was proceeding to make almost 
 flattering references to her husband (to which the latter's 
 keen-faced father greedily listened), when a loud knocking 
 and ringing were heard at the front door. 
 
 Although no notice was apparently taken of this summons 
 by those present, it seemed as if the table with one accord 
 had pricked up its ears. 
 
 The door was audibly answered ; a few moments later, 
 the handle of the dining-room door was violently turned. 
 
 Then, the astounded dinner-party perceived the spectacle 
 of a man who entered on his hands and knees before 
 turning a series of violent somersaults round the severely 
 pretentious dining-room. 
 
 The men rose to their feet, while one or two of the 
 women considered the propriety of fainting. 
 
 Suddenly, the intruder sat bolt upright, when he was seen 
 to be an elderly man who was eccentrically got up ; his 
 face was blacked. 
 
 " Why — ^where are the children ? " asked a voice, that 
 to Jeannie bore a remarkable likeness to Joe's. 
 
 " What — ^what does this mean ? " cried an indignant 
 Baverstock. 
 
 " Means. Where's Tom ? " 
 
 " Tom ! " 
 
 " Tom Coop. I'm his oldest friend, Joe Pilcher, and I 
 came like this to amuse the — the " 
 
 He stopped short, having caught sight of Jeannie. 
 
 " W — well, sir ? " asked a confounded Baverstock, who 
 now perceived that Joe was Edgar's father-in-law. 
 
 The latter did not speak, but continued to stare blankly 
 
1 82 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 at Jeannie, in the manner of one who can scarcely believe 
 the evidence of his eyes. 
 
 " W — ^weU, sir ? " hesitatingly repeated the master of the 
 house. 
 
 " It is — ^it is my Jeannie," declared Joe. " Ask her, 
 and she will explain how I've come to the wrong house by 
 mistake. It must have been because of the fog." 
 
 " You know him ? " asked Bringeman of Jeannie. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Indeed ! " he almost sneered. " Who is he ? " 
 
 " He — ^he is my father," she faltered. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 "LARKSLEASE" 
 
 One April night, Jeannie lay stark awake. When not in 
 the thrall of one of her many tribulations, she listened to 
 the ceaseless stream music which came from the adjacent 
 meadow, or " hoppet," as it is called in the county in 
 which she and her husband had gone to Uve. 
 
 One trouble would possess her mind to the exclusion of 
 everything else ; when it seemed weU-nigh unendurable, 
 she would find herself soothed by hearkening to the run- 
 ning water, which sweetly told her of the endlessness of 
 time ; consequently, of the futiHty of worry, inasmuch 
 as the passing of the years would resolve the most obstinate 
 of troubles. 
 
 After awhile, however, her mind would become suffi- 
 ciently strengthened to concern itself with another anxiety, 
 at which she would suffer as before until the stream 
 alleviated temporarily her distress. 
 
 Very soon after the unfortunate dinner-party at her 
 father-in-law's, Edgar had thrown up his employment 
 when, with the fatuity that is the exclusive possession of 
 the town bred, he had taken a poultry farm, in the firm 
 belief that a living was thereby to be secured. 
 
 Although Jeannie was dismayed at his recklessness in 
 giving up a certain job, however indifferently paid, she 
 fell in with her husband's views, as she rightly beUeved the 
 irksome confinement of a sedentary life was affecting his 
 health. 
 
 Also, she perceived how deeply he felt Bringeman's 
 
 refusal to do anything for him, which was a direct conse- 
 
 183 
 
1 84 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 quence of Joe's unfortunate impingement on the select 
 Baverstock gathering ; she feared that, if Edgar had 
 continued his City occupation, it might dismally affect his 
 love for her. 
 
 From the moment she had acknowledged the intruder at 
 " Pyracantha" as her father, she had intuitively divined that 
 she and Edgar had sunk in Bringeman's estimation beyond 
 all possibility of recovery : although Joe had speedily taken 
 his departure, the spirit had gone out of the evening : she 
 had felt how it had been proclaimed to the snobbish, purse- 
 proud dinner-party that her Edgar had married beneath him. 
 
 His anger at the unlooked-for catastrophe had persisted 
 for so many days that, apart from its economic bearings, 
 she almost welcomed his determination to go into the 
 country, as being calculated to divert his mind from the 
 cause of the destruction of his hopes. 
 
 Eleven hundred pounds remained of Edgar's capital; 
 when he had advertised for a profitable poultry farm, even 
 his volatile disposition had been taken aback by the number 
 of replies he received, shoals arriving by every post. 
 
 At last, after many disappointing visits of inspection, 
 which ran away with a surprising lot of money, he had 
 determined on one within a few miles of Wicksea in Essex, 
 
 Jeannie had wished him to rent it, but as he had it in his 
 blood to have a place of his own, he had bought the old- 
 world cottage, five acres of ground, stock, runs, pony and 
 cart, and goodwill for seven hundred pounds. 
 
 They had entered into possession in November, and had 
 forthwith started their new career with a fund of hope and 
 an appalling ignorance of the matter in hand so far as Edgar 
 was concerned. 
 
 Scarcely so Jeannie. 
 
 Directly she had known what was before her, she had 
 taken in poultry papers and bought handbooks on the 
 subject. These, she had assiduously studied ; long before 
 they had moved in, she had her own convictions (what 
 poultry farmer had not ?) as to the most remunerative 
 
"LARKSLEASE" 185 
 
 breeds and the best means of coaxing eggs from reluctant 
 hens. 
 
 She, also, read books on small farming, and beUeved 
 there was money in the keeping of bees, geese, and goats ; 
 these she determined to go in for when opportunity offered. 
 
 They had now been in possession six months, and had 
 discovered, as have so many others who have followed 
 their example, firstly, that there was Uttle or no money 
 in poultry farming ; secondly, that they had been merci- 
 lessly done over the goodwill and stock. 
 
 While expenses increased, the proceeds were meagre, 
 and this was almost the principal preoccupation of Jeannie's 
 mind as she lay awake on that AprU night. 
 
 It would have been the chief, but for the fact that her 
 love for the man sleeping at her side would, in the fulness 
 of time, bear fruit. 
 
 It had been a recent discovery on her part : also, one 
 she feared to conununicate to her husband, inasmuch as 
 it was a possibility he had always dreaded in the face of 
 their embarrassed circumstances. 
 
 Apart from these misfortimes, her mind was bmdened 
 by the countless anxieties attendant on that most vexatious 
 of industries, poultry farming. 
 
 In the ordinary way, the constant losses of stock, the 
 bitter disappointments which were always lyiag in wait 
 for her would have been bad enough, but in her heart of 
 hearts she beUeved that the continuance of her husband's 
 love and, therefore, of aU that made Ufe worth Uving was 
 dependent on the success of the venture. 
 
 When living at Elm Grove, she had perceived how money 
 troubles occasioned an attrition of his ardent affection ; 
 dreading their further influence on impressionable Edgar, 
 she daimtlessly fought the adverse circumstances with 
 which she was constantly confronted. 
 
 One of the troubles that possessed her to-night was that 
 her husband, after the first frenzy at having something 
 fresh to interest him had subsided, did not work nearly so 
 
1 86 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 hard as might have been expected, considering what was 
 at stake : his chief preoccupation after getting himself 
 up to look nice in rough tweeds, leggings, and a tie of his 
 college colours, seemed to be an abidijlg sympathy with 
 himself at being compelled to renounce the delights of 
 town life for a monotonous and profitless occupation in 
 the country, for which last he was peculiarly unfitted, 
 he having the corpuscles of London existence in his blood. 
 
 Another thing that presently troubled Jeannie was that 
 his friend Mount joy was expected in the late afternoon 
 of the forthcoming day : he would stay the night, which 
 would mean that the two men would sit up late talking over 
 the latest gossip Mount] oy would bring from his haunts, a 
 proceeding that invariably had the result of making Edgar 
 more than commonly discontented with his lot. 
 
 Then, Jeannie noticed that the night was growing wan, 
 while the intense stillness which preceded the dawn enabled 
 the stream to welcome coming day with louder music. 
 
 Presently, a blackbird sang, at which she perceived that 
 it was now light enough for her to discern the face of her 
 husband, who, as if he had not a care in the world, slept 
 peacefully at her side. 
 
 As the familiar features were revealed to her, her heart 
 went out, as it had never done before, to the man to whom 
 she would bear a child before the year was out. 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye, her heart was bared to her 
 gaze, at which she realised how pitifully she was his. 
 
 This knowledge so dismayed her that she cast her mind 
 back to other occasions on which she had believed her love 
 had touched bottom ; she was appalled at perceiving that 
 compared to her present extremity her other emotions 
 appeared of no account. 
 
 She only got relief from the fears begotten of her helpless- 
 ness by listening to the stream. 
 
 When she had obtained some familiarity with her dis- 
 tresses, she fell to thinking of what purpose was served by 
 the designs of Providence in making loving women so 
 
"LARKSLEASE'' 187 
 
 miserably powerless in the hands of the men to whom they 
 had surrendered their all. 
 
 This barren speculation was interrupted by a sudden 
 access of love for the sleeping Edgar. 
 
 For good or for evil, she found herself rejoicing that she 
 was always his ; that nothing could ever unbind the bonds 
 that gripped her. 
 
 For any pains or sorrows that might be begotten of this 
 helplessness, she knew a reckless defiance : at the same time, 
 she had a profound contempt for women whose lives had 
 never been touched by the magic of passion ; for those who 
 hesitated to devote their days to the ecstasy of loving, 
 no matter what might betide. 
 
 " If one is not loving, one is not Uving," she told herself, 
 and as if by way of giving an outward and visible sign 
 of her conviction, she kissed her lover (just now, she pre- 
 ferred that word to husband) very, very tenderly on the lips 
 before sinking into a fairly sound sleep. 
 
 The AprU sun was high in the heavens, and the larks 
 had long since sung their first hymn to their mates and the 
 spring day, when Jeannie slipped out of bed and scrambled 
 iato her oldest things before stealing from the room ; as 
 she went downstairs, she awoke as quietly as possible the 
 very indifferent genercd servant, Ethel by name, who, for all 
 her sluttish ways, had a heart of gold. 
 
 After finding a morsel to eat, Jeannie went out of doors : 
 she was anxious to make a good start with the long day's 
 work. 
 
 Although " Rufus," the pony, eager for his breakfast, 
 was vigorously kicking the stable door, and the cocks, for 
 the same reason, were crowing lustily in the pens, Jeannie 
 paused for a few moments to appreciate the glory of the 
 cloudless day. 
 
 Beyond the little garden was the queerly shaped hoppet 
 across which the stream took its varying way, its course 
 being seemingly staked out by pollard willows. Some 
 distance farther, the ground, hitherto level, fell away in a 
 
1 88 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 series of gradual descents for some three miles, until it 
 reached the great river which, like a mighty grey serpent, 
 wound from London to the sea. 
 
 This morning, the Thames, the Kentish hills beyond, 
 seemed unusually distinct and quite near, an atmospheric 
 trick which Jeannie often noticed in the ensuing days of 
 summer ; this morning, it held her attention as being in 
 the nature of a phenomenon. 
 
 For the best part of the last six months, Jeannie had 
 lived in a spot that presented a striking contrast to the 
 well-lit streets of shabbily sophisticated Hammersmith. 
 
 Here, more often than not, dense river mists roUed about 
 her, obscuring the very tree-trunks and making the bare 
 branches look like gaunt fingers suspended in space by 
 supernatural means. 
 
 The raw river-fog had seemed to pervade the world, and 
 at certain intervals during the day and night, intervals 
 that corresponded to the state of the tides, the blowing of the 
 fog-horns on the ships would be borne mournfully to her 
 ears : it was like the beUowings of great beasts which had 
 lost their way. 
 
 Of an evening, the mists thinned, when a bright light in 
 a house some half-mile away was like a superb planet which, 
 in successfully defying the attraction of the sun, was always 
 in the same place. 
 
 Jeannie, in drawing in deep draughts of the good, clean 
 air, seemed to fill her being with much of the gladness 
 of the day : it was with something of a light heart that she 
 set about work, which elation was largely caused by the 
 fact of her shouldering burdens that were rightly her 
 husband's. 
 
 To keep " Rufus " quiet, she took a paU to the stream ; 
 after a preliminary swill, she three-quarters filled it for the 
 pony : then, she held it up for him to drink, and when 
 he had had enough, she mixed his first feed in a trug ; 
 this operation keenly interested the pony, he eagerly eyeing 
 the proportion of oats, that he loved, to chaff. 
 
"LARKSLEASE" 189 
 
 Much to his disgust, Jeannie sprinkled the mixture 
 with water before giving it to him ; this prevented " Rufus " 
 from bolting the oats and ignoring the chaff. She left 
 him fairly contentedly munching, while she applied herself 
 to getting middlings, bran and barley meal from the binns ; 
 these she kneaded with water into a firm paste. 
 
 Carrying two paUfuls of the mixture, she proceeded 
 to the runs behind the cottage. These were put up on some 
 acres of wild-looking land ; indeed, it was this aspect of the 
 place that had suggested to Edgar calling it " Larkslease," 
 a name that he had some time back discovered was given 
 in Hampshire to wastes which, in being unprofitable to 
 cultivate, were tenanted only by larks. 
 
 When Edgar had taken over the business, Buff Orpingtons 
 and Plymouth Rocks formed the stock-in-trade, but, for all 
 their fine appearance, Jeannie soon discovered how they 
 were unsuitable for the heavy soil of Essex ; so far as funds 
 would permit, she was gradually substituting White 
 Leghorns for laying, and Silver Wyandottes for general 
 utility purposes, although the yellow legs of the latter 
 were by way of handicapping them as table birds. 
 
 Before putting food in the troughs, Jeannie was careful 
 to see that none of the nest boxes were occupied, other- 
 wise the birds in their eagerness to fill their crops would 
 leave their nests and might forget to lay their eggs. 
 
 It was hard work filling the feeding-troughs ; clean- 
 ing and refilling the drinking pans with scrupulously clean 
 water ; collecting the eggs of which it gladdened her 
 heart to see that a goodly number were laid that 
 morning. 
 
 She was thankful that, owing to the mildness of the 
 weather, it was not necessary to mix hot food. 
 
 This was only a fraction of Jeannie's labours. 
 
 She returned to the stable for maize for the clamorous 
 ducks, for more middlings for the chicks and ducklings, 
 when she perceived that " Rufus," having finished his feed, 
 was neighing for hay. 
 
190 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 She unbound a fresh truss, and gathered as much as she 
 could carry, when she was momentarily overcome by the 
 appealing fragrance of her burden, the hay having plenty 
 of what is locally known as " nose." 
 
 When she got to the coops (these were called hips by the 
 countryfolk) in which ducklings and chicks had been 
 shut up for the night, she perceived that the ground was 
 tunnelled and scarred about these in the frantic efforts 
 rats had made to get inside in the night : Jeannie could 
 afford to laugh at these attempts, as she had recently 
 covered the bottoms of the coops with half-inch wire-netting : 
 but for this protection, it being the rats' breeding-season, 
 the interior of the coops, as she to her cost had discovered 
 twice before, would have been a shambles. 
 
 Of the sixty ducklings of all ages she was fattening for 
 the market, four of the younger ones had died in the night : 
 it was losses such as these which, in constantly occurring, 
 reduced profits to a vanishing point, and had the effect 
 of putting her nerves on edge. 
 
 The yellow ducklings seemed as if they would never stop 
 eating. When their appetites had some appearance of 
 being stayed, Jeannie went to the kitchen, where Ethel 
 was now at work, to obtain skim milk, small quantities 
 of which were given to the ducklings in place of water, the 
 latter having the effect of retarding their growth. 
 
 Next, there was the tedious business of attending to 
 the sitting hens, of which there were twenty : the shifting, 
 feeding, the separation of the combatants — sitting hens 
 being very quarrelsome— and replacing of the birds, tried 
 her patience sorely. 
 
 She was feeling tired, and was thankful her task was 
 almost accomplished, when she discovered a persistent 
 tapping in the shells of three sittings of pheasants' eggs 
 which she had bought as a speculation : this would mean 
 that she would have to prepare the incubator in order to 
 dry the chicks when they were free of the eggs, before re- 
 turning them to the care of the hens. 
 
"LARKSLEASE" 191 
 
 She was about to proceed to the house for this purpose 
 when, without any warning, she was overwhelmed with the 
 reaUsation of her approaching motherhood. 
 
 The prospect both cheered and dismayed her, but she 
 would have been more pleased than otherwise if she could 
 have believed that Edgar would not be annoyed at what 
 was toward. 
 
 Then, she was weighed down by her helplessness in the 
 face of her physical extremity : it seemed that her situation 
 in this respect was all of a piece with her love for Edgar, 
 inasmuch as she had no say in the matter, and that she was 
 the sport of pitiless natural forces over which she had no 
 control. 
 
 It was with a considerable dissatisfaction with the ruth- 
 less manner in which the elemental facts of life affected 
 women, which was accompanied by a conviction of her 
 personal insignificance, that she went towards the house : 
 she encountered Edgar on the threshold. 
 
 In spite of herself, she stopped short and regarded him 
 with appealing eyes : her loneliness was such, just then, 
 that she ached to confide her secret to the man who was 
 responsible for its existence. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " he asked, none too graciously. 
 
 " Out and about." 
 
 " Not doing work ? " 
 
 " A little." 
 
 " Seen anything of the postman ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 She made as if she would pass him, at which he asked : 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 " To light the incubator and see about breakfast." 
 
 " Why the incubator ? " 
 
 " The pheasants will be through by twelve o'clock." 
 
 " Have you been doing my work ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " Some of it." 
 
 " How good of you," he remarked, to add as if angrily : 
 " It is really good of you, and all that, but I wish to good- 
 
192 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 ness you wouldn't do it. It as good as tells me I'm too lazy 
 to do my own work." 
 
 His concern would have pleased her but for a note of 
 insincerity in his voice, which told her he was speaking with 
 no particular conviction. 
 
 When breakfast was ready, it was eaten in aU but silence 
 until the arrival of the post. 
 
 This consisted of the usual advertising circulars of 
 poultry requisites ; Joe's weekly postal order for twenty- 
 five shillings, for which he requested two boiling fowls 
 and the balance in eggs ; Mrs. Baverstock's weekly 
 postal order for ten shillings' worth of eggs ; a complaint 
 by a customer that two eggs had been broken in the last 
 consignment, and, beyond a letter for Edgar, little else. 
 
 Directly he had read his letter, he was a different being. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " he cried cheerily. " Here's a bit 
 of luck." 
 
 " A good order ? " asked practical Jeannie. 
 
 " Good gracious, no ! It's from Pightle." 
 
 " Son of Sir Roger Pightle ? " 
 
 " He's getting up a local cricket eleven. He wants me 
 to play." 
 
 " Win you ? " 
 
 " What do you think ! A chance of knowing some decent 
 people at last." 
 
 If Jeannie had not been obsessed by economic cares, 
 she would have welcomed the possibility of meeting local 
 gentlepeople on equal terms ; in her daily fight with 
 financial adversity, her social ambitions had been forgotten 
 as if they had never existed. 
 
 Edgar chatted and laughed gaily : he was quite his old 
 self, at which Jeannie remembered similar instances when 
 he had been elevated by some trifling occurrence, flatter- 
 ing to his vanity, after a period of depression. 
 
 She had an uneasy conviction that her husband was 
 amiable enough so long as things went well, but that 
 adversity found him wanting in grit. 
 
"LARKSLEASE" 193 
 
 He, also, gave her the impression of being a man who 
 could be strong minded when he was prosperous but who 
 would be pitifully weak if fortune deserted him. 
 
 This morning, however, Jeannie was so eager to divulge 
 her secret to sympathetic ears that, in spite of herself, 
 and of the coldness that had struck at her heart when he 
 had not caressed her after she had been doing his work, she 
 insensibly attuned herself to his new-found gaiety : she 
 was unconscious that her elation was a means of screwing 
 up her courage to tell him what she was so eager to com- 
 municate. 
 
 Presently, it seemed as if he were insensibly providing 
 the opening she sought. 
 
 " How long have we been married ? " he asked. 
 
 " Ages." 
 
 " I'm sorry it seems so to you." 
 
 " Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I was thinking how strange it was a child has never 
 come along." 
 
 Jeannie bent her golden head over a letter she caught up. 
 He went on : 
 
 " Although the family are upset with me, I beheve the 
 mater is rather disappointed." 
 
 " Are you ? " she asked, without looking up. 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " I should have thought you would have hated the 
 very idea of such a thing," she remarked, as casually as 
 she was able: she waited with heart abeat for his 
 reply. 
 
 " It's all a question of money, little Jeannie ! " 
 
 " Money ? " she cried sharply. 
 
 " It's aU such a great expense, but that's only the 
 beginning. If one has a girl it doesn't matter so much, but, 
 if one has a boy, how can paupers like ourselves educate 
 him properly and give him a start in Ufe ? " 
 
 " Why bring money into everything ? " 
 
 " Because it is everything. I won't say any more, 
 13 
 
194 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 because it would only be expounding the obvious. But 
 just think what money would do for us." 
 
 " Money is not everything," she declared. 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " Money is not everything," she repeated doggedly. 
 
 " Why isn't it ? " he asked sharply. 
 
 By way of reply, she looked at him with tender eyes. 
 
 " Sentimental little Jeannie is right," he cried, as he rose 
 from his chair and, advancing to her, kissed her golden hair. 
 " No ; money is not everything. The Baverstock faith has 
 been confounded by Jeannie's pretty eyes." 
 
 As if by magic, the down-at-heel poultry farm became a 
 palace of enchantment in Jeannie's estimation. Believing 
 the golden moment had arrived, she was about to teU him 
 her news, when he said : 
 
 " You can thank Mountjoy for our talking like this." 
 
 Jeannie resented the introduction of a third person into 
 their domain of romance. 
 
 " He's going to be married ; at least, he's thinking about 
 it," continued Edgar. 
 
 " Indeed ! " remarked Jeannie, who, for all her disappoint- 
 ment at the deflection of the conversation, wondered if the 
 fact of Mount joy's being a bridegroom would more recon- 
 cile her husband to married hfe. 
 
 " How do you mean his talking about getting married ? 
 Can't he make up his mind ? " 
 
 " It's this way. The girl he's thinking about is awfully 
 keen on him, but he doesn't particularly care about her." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried Jeannie, whose romantic 
 sensibilities had been shocked by the possibility of a 
 marriage in which all the love was on one side. 
 
 " What I say, little Jeannie." 
 
 " But— but " 
 
 " Don't you know that, in aU love affairs, one is the 
 lover and the other is the loved ? " 
 
 " Say that again," she requested sharply, as she sat bolt 
 upright. 
 
"LARKSLEASE" 19S 
 
 " Is little Jeannie so unsophisticated that she doesn't 
 know that, in all love affairs, one is the lover and the other 
 is the loved ? And if Mount joy is loved, as he appears to be, 
 by a rich and charming girl, he's certainly better off than 
 if he cared for some one who didn't want him." 
 
 Jeannie paid no attention to Edgar's last words ; she 
 was endeavouring to realise the purport of his assertion 
 r^arding lovers and loved, more particularly its bearings 
 on her abiding passion for her husband. 
 
 Although Edgar went on talking, she did not heed what 
 he was saying ; she was fearfully wondering if the fact of 
 her caring for her husband meant that he did not love her, 
 which would certainly be the case if there were no excep- 
 tions to the rule he had laid down. 
 
 Even as she painfully dwelt upon this dire possibility, 
 her mind was flooded by a recollection of selfishness or want 
 of thought on Edgar's part which tended to confirm her 
 belief. 
 
 The apprehension that his words had occasioned obsessed 
 her, not only while she was packing the eggs and poultry 
 for Joe and her mother-in-law (which Edgar would take to 
 the station, when he met Mountjoy with the pony-cart), 
 but for the rest of the day ; indeed, for some time to come 
 it would frequently assail her mind with varying degrees of 
 intensity. 
 
 Whatever the strength of the attack, it had the invariable 
 effect of stimulating her love for her husband. 
 
 She had just finished addressing Joe's parcel in her firm 
 round hand, when Edgar came in, quite tired from attending 
 to the pony. 
 
 " Who's that for ? " he asked, as he sat wearily. 
 
 " Joe." 
 
 " You were saying something the other day about asking 
 him down." 
 
 " We must sometime. He hasn't been once since we've 
 been here." 
 
 " The weather's been so bad." 
 
196 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Yes," assented Jeannie quickly. 
 
 " Perhaps he'd like it better when the spring's really 
 here." 
 
 " No doubt," agreed Jeannie, as before. 
 
 For all the fact of Joe's unfortunate appearance at 
 " Pyracantha " having interfered so seriously with Edgar's 
 prospects, there was no denying that Jeannie had treated 
 her father with, to put it mildly, no particular considera- 
 tion. \ 
 
 She knew that what had happened on the night of the 
 dinner-party had been an accident ; also, that Joe would 
 not have understood how he had prejudiced Bringeman 
 against Edgar. 
 
 But this did not mitigate Jeannie's resentment against 
 her father, which was stimulated by her husband's anger 
 with the hapless Joe. 
 
 Also, as is the case with many others, she credited Joe 
 with having the lessened affection for her that, just now, 
 she had for him. 
 
 Over and over again she had made up her mind to have 
 him down for the day. 
 
 It was never a hard matter to find an easy excuse to put 
 off his visit. 
 
 She had sent him a half-hearted invitation for Christmas, 
 but had been vaguely relieved when Joe, divining its luke- 
 warm nature, had pleaded his inability to come. 
 
 For all her not infrequent disposition to behave dutifully 
 to her father, her anxieties with regard to Edgar and 
 poultry farming interfered with the fulfilment of these 
 inclinations. 
 
 Jeannie had just come in from shutting up the stock, 
 after giving them their final feed of hard food, when she 
 heard the cart that carried Mount joy and Edgar approach- 
 ing ; she hastened upstairs and changed into a becoming 
 frock before descending for tea. 
 
 Mountjoy, who ordinarily talked well on anything and 
 everything, was, to-night, prone to silence : she presumed 
 
"LARKSLEASE" 197 
 
 his uncertainty with regard to getting married was weight- 
 ing his mind. 
 
 " How is poultry farming ? " he asked of Jeannie, as she 
 greeted him. 
 
 " Much as usual." 
 
 " Making your fortune at it ? " 
 
 " Never that," replied Edgar. 
 
 " But there's always a market for eggs." 
 
 " But you forget this. When eggs are cheap, you get 
 them in large quantities ; but directly they fetch anything 
 of a price, the hens won't lay." 
 
 Edgar, in a few words, had given the most cogent reason 
 why poultry farming is an unprofitable industry. 
 
 During dinner, Mount joy showed such an increasing 
 disposition to address his remarks to Edgar that Jeannie 
 took an early opportunity of withdrawing. She retired to 
 a little workroom at the back of the dining-room, and pro- 
 duced from a carefully concealed hiding-place tiny garments 
 in various stages of completion. 
 
 The partition between the apartments was so thin that 
 she heard nearly every word of what the two men were 
 saying. 
 
 She had been sewiag for some twenty minutes when it 
 seemed that Mount joy was piloting the conversation to the 
 subject of marriage, at which Edgar presently asked : 
 
 " Have you made up your mind what you are going to 
 do?" 
 
 " It's what I wanted your advice about." 
 
 " If you should get married ? " 
 
 " Yes. Do you really think the game is worth the 
 candle ? " 
 
 Jeannie waited with heart abeat for her husband's 
 reply. 
 
 " Remember, I don't overmuch care for her," continued 
 Mount joy. 
 
 It seemed to Jeannie a very long time before Edgar 
 said : 
 
198 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " As she's well off, and you've parliamentary ambitions, 
 I certainly advise it." 
 
 " You advise a loveless marriage ? " asked an astonished 
 Mount] oy. 
 
 " Better that with money than a lot of romantic nonsense 
 without," declared Edgar. 
 
 Although he proceeded to qualify his assertion, Jeannie 
 did not hear what he was saying : neither could she see 
 what she was at, for all that she was stitching away as if 
 for dear life. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 JEANXIE DESPAIRS 
 
 " I don't approve of it at all." 
 
 " No one need know anything about it." 
 
 " It's sure to get out. Those things always do," de- 
 clared Edgar, with considerable heat. 
 
 " But if I can make money at it, I don't see why you 
 should object to my doing it," persisted Jeannie, who was 
 surprised at her temerity in opposing her husband. 
 
 "The fact of my objecting ought to be enough. It 
 seems it isn't. But when there's such a chance of my 
 getting in with the Pightles, for you to suggest going round 
 to the farms collecting eggs, and selling them at a profit, 
 seems little short of madness." 
 
 " We have to live," mged Jeannie. 
 
 " It's surely not necessary to come down to that." 
 
 " We're not very far off coming down to an5rthing." 
 
 " I've still two himdred pounds." 
 
 " I know, and that's what I'm trying to save being 
 touched." 
 
 " If I'd my way, I'd raise and ' blow ' the lot, and then 
 we'd know exactly where we are. That I've told you 
 before," declared Edgar irritably. 
 
 " I don't know where we should be if you had done 
 so." 
 
 " We couldn't be much worse off than we are now." 
 
 " Whose idea was it to come here ? " asked Jeannie, who, 
 by reason of her condition, was peevish. 
 
 " That's right. Throw it in my face I'd no biosiness to 
 have married you." 
 
200 THE SINS OF THE CHH^DREN 
 
 " I did not throw it ia your face, and- 
 
 If you didn't say it, it was in your mind. I believe 
 you're always thinking it. And if you are, I don't blame 
 you. I don't expect you to stick poverty any more than 
 I can." 
 
 " It's poverty I'm trying to avoid by trying to make 
 money out of poultry in the only way it can be made." 
 
 " What you suggest is nothing more or less than higgling. 
 Good heavens ! Pightle would drop me in no time if he 
 heard about it. As it is, I told him we're poultry farming 
 for a lark." 
 
 Jeannie laughed outright. 
 
 " That's right ! Laugh at me," cried Edgar, who failed 
 to detect the note of hysteria in Jeannie's hilarity. 
 
 " I wasn't laughing at you," protested Jeannie, who was 
 now divided between an inclination to tears and laughter. 
 
 " Yes, you were. And I'll teU you I'm fairly sick of the 
 whole thing. More than you can ever guess." 
 
 " What time do you expect Mr. Pightle ? " asked Jeannie. 
 Receiving no reply, she turned (she had had her back to 
 her husband), to perceive that he had left the room. 
 
 Such domestic jangles as the foregoing were now of 
 almost daily occurrence at " Larkslease " ; they usually 
 ended, as had this one, in Edgar leaving Jeannie alone, when 
 her distress found some approximation to relief in tears. 
 
 Sometimes, these discords would be followed by fits of 
 sulkiness on Edgar's part, which Jeannie found well-nigh 
 unendurable. 
 
 A month had elapsed since Mountjoy's visit : during this 
 interval, poultry farming as a profitable industry had gone 
 from bad to worse, so far as Jeannie and Edgar were con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Cold and wet days had succeeded each other with un- 
 failing persistency ; they had had disastrous effects upon 
 the stock. 
 
 The hens laid intermittently ; ducklings and chicks had 
 died by the score, for all that Jeannie had carefully tended 
 
JEANNIE DESPAIRS 201 
 
 the sickly ones before the kitchen fire ; the experiment 
 with the pheasants' eggs had been a failure and, as if to 
 deepen Jeannie's distress, Edgar had lost heart. 
 
 There was no getting away from the fact that the farm 
 was being run at a dead loss ; while next to nothing was 
 coming in beyond Joe's and Mrs. Baverstock's weekly 
 postal order, debts, that were steadily accumulating, were 
 owing to tradespeople, who were pressing for a settlement. 
 
 Although Jeannie was now aware she was fighting over- 
 whelming odds, she dared not give up the struggle, realising 
 as she did that her hold upon what remained of her husband's 
 affection depended upon their making some sort of living 
 out of their present enterprise : the knowledge that every 
 day was bringing them nearer to the end of their financial 
 tether made her regard the future with dismay. Every 
 trivial loss in the coops and runs was a further tax on her 
 nerves, already overstrung from her frequent differences 
 with Edgar ; their pecuniary embarrassments : she was 
 beginning to wonder how much longer she could go on with- 
 out completely breaking down. 
 
 As if to further weight her load of suffering, she had not 
 yet had the courage to tell her husband of her physical 
 condition, although she knew well enough it was a matter 
 he must soon perceive for himself. 
 
 She dreaded the effect of this discovery on their already 
 embittered relations ; at the same time, the suspense in 
 which she was living kept her awake at night, and dismally 
 affected her health. 
 
 Also, Edgar's words respecting lover and loved in all 
 affairs of the heart were constantly in her mind : his be- 
 haviour, in seemingly being a practical illustration of 
 his assertion, put an edge on her griefs. 
 
 This morning, while she miserably sobbed, she was 
 conscious that a conviction of utter despair was taking root 
 in her being ; that she was asking herself if victory, even 
 if obtained, were worth the struggles, tears, travail which 
 were hers. 
 
202 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Her unhappy cogitations were interrupted by the entrance 
 of Ethel, the general servant, who brought her mistress a 
 none too clean cup of bovril. 
 
 Jeannie, in her isolation of spirit, had confided her secret 
 to Ethel's sympathetic ears, sympathetic because the latter 
 had had her own " trouble " : the attention and devotion 
 the girl lavished on her mistress touched Jeannie not a 
 little, and considerably assisted her to sustain her sorrows. 
 
 " Your master won't be in to luncheon, Ethel." 
 
 " Very well, ma'am." 
 
 " He's going to town with Mr. Pightle." 
 
 " He'U be back to-night ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; he'll be back to-night," sighed Jeannie. 
 " And as he's going to town, you'd better see his boots 
 are well cleaned — extra well, I mean. You'd better see 
 about them now." 
 
 " I'll see about 'em when you've drunk that, ma'am," 
 declared Ethel, who was as good as her word. 
 
 Jeannie, who had had no appetite for breakfast, was 
 refreshed by the bovril ; as young Pightle, whom she 
 liked, would soon call for Edgar, she set about bathing 
 her eyes in water to remove evidence of her tears. 
 
 When she returned to the room they commonly used, 
 she found Richard Pightle rummaging among the Stafford- 
 shire china on the mantelpiece. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he remarked, on catching sight of Jeannie. 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 " Matches." 
 
 " You always do," declared Jeannie, as she produced a 
 box. 
 
 Richard Pightle was a nice-looking, careless young man 
 who, for all the fact that he was a confessed " rotter," had 
 not sufficient energy to impel him to evil courses. He 
 was the only chUd of Sir Roger Pightle, seventh baronet 
 of his line, and owner of a down-at-heel Tudor house, many 
 acres, and a reputation for eccentricity. 
 
 Although Richard, beyond a little perfunctory cricket, 
 
JEANNIE DESPAIRS 203 
 
 lounged away his days, he had made a profound study of a 
 certain subject, on which he was an undoubted authority. 
 This was London barmaids, with dozens of whom he was 
 intimately acquainted, they coniiding in him their personal 
 and domestic troubles and histories. 
 
 He was a clever mimic ; when in the mood, he could 
 humorously reproduce the incidents that make up the 
 barmaid's day : one of the most amusing of these was an 
 imitation of how a certain " Flossie ate a snack and at the 
 same time carried on a flirtation with two admirers while 
 she officiated at a Piccadilly private bar. 
 
 He had taken a fancy to the Baverstocks, and was in 
 and out of " Larkslease " at all hours of the day and night, 
 he declaring it did him a world of good to see how Jeannie 
 and her husband worked, which assertion often had the 
 effect of making Edgar turn to with a will. 
 
 Occasionally, Pightle would have a burst of energy, when, 
 for half an hour at a stretch, he would assist Jeannie in 
 the runs or in the kitchen, where he was equally at home. 
 
 This morning, he and Edgar were off to town, where 
 the former was going to spend the night. 
 
 " What's up with you ? " he asked of Jeannie, when he 
 had lit a cigarette. 
 
 " Fm all right," declared Jeannie quickly. 
 
 " You don't look it. I'm worried too." 
 
 " Did you have to get up earlier than usual ? " 
 
 " Yes. That was a bother, but it isn't all. Aunt 
 Chrissy's coming." 
 
 " Who's aunt Chrissy ? " 
 
 " It's evident you don't know her. Aunt Chrissy is a 
 fair corker, and when she comes to see us it usually means 
 she's fairly on the job." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " The whole show is turned upside down before she 
 comes ; and when she's there she's always finding fault. 
 But she isn't a bad sort. She's pots of money, or rather 
 her husband has " 
 
204 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Lucky man," interrupted Jeannie, with something 
 suspiciously like a sigh, 
 
 " Don't you believe it. King works jolly hard." 
 
 " Works ? " 
 
 " Mines. Tommy-rot of that sort. I believe it's all his 
 doing she's lately been going for me for slacking." 
 
 " How are the birds ? " he asked, a little later. 
 
 " Dreadful," replied Jeannie. 
 
 " I could have told you that. It's the old story. The 
 more you keep the worse they lay. It's a jolly good thing 
 you're not doing it all for a living." 
 
 For a moment, she was taken off her guard, and looked 
 at him with surprised eyes : then, she remembered 
 Edgar's fiction on the subject, at which she somewhat 
 tremulously asked : 
 
 " What if we were doing it for a living ? " 
 
 " Poultry farming ? " 
 
 " Yes, what if we were ? " 
 
 " Workhouse. Thank Heaven you're doing it for a 
 lark." 
 
 " You — you don't really mean that ? " faltered 
 Jeannie. 
 
 " Don't I ? I can tell you you're the fourth lot who've 
 come to grief in this very place." 
 
 " In ' Larkslease ' ? " 
 
 " Yes. I saw what was coming when you came in. If 
 I'd known how nice you both were, I'd have given you the 
 tip." 
 
 " Supposing — supposing we were doing it partly for 
 a living ? What would you suggest doing ? " 
 
 " Getting out of it in no time." 
 
 " What else could we do ? " 
 
 " I know what I should take on." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " A country pub. At least it's a Uving, and some of 
 the work must be quite funny." 
 
 " You're not serious ? " 
 
JEANNIE DESPAIRS 205 
 
 " Aren't I though ! If you take it on, I'll come as 
 potman." 
 
 Jeannie smiled in spite of herself. 
 
 " I'd do it for the fun of the thing. At a pinch, I'd get 
 up as a barmaid and attract the local ' sports.' And I say ! 
 Wouldn't it just amuse aunt Chrissy ! " he cried, to add 
 regretfully : " But you're not serious. It can't matter 
 to you whether your poultry farm does go bust." 
 
 " Not at all," assented Jeannie, with a bitterness that 
 was unperceived by her companion. 
 
 When they were joined by Edgar a few moments later, 
 Jeannie painfully noticed how her husband greeted and 
 talked with his friend as if he had not a care in the world. 
 
 " Happy he is leaving me for the day," she miserably 
 mused. 
 
 For all his light-heartedness, he did not say anything 
 to her when he started off with his friend ; although she 
 accompanied them to the gate, Edgar did not once look 
 back, as had been his wont on former occasions when he 
 had absented himself. 
 
 Jeannie spent the most unhappy day she had ever 
 known. When not busy with attending to the poultry, 
 she moped about the house and felt abjectly wretched : 
 occasionally, she wept pitiful tears. 
 
 Over and over again she told herself that she was the 
 lover, Edgar the loved one : this conviction stimulated her 
 passion for Edgar, consequently her bitterness of spirit. 
 
 It was a treacherous spring day. Scarcely without 
 warning, an undependable blue sky would be darkened 
 with scurrying clouds which discharged sharp, cold 
 rain showers. The blustering weather afiected the 
 hens, causing them to lay but very few eggs, although 
 it was a time of year when they should be doing their 
 best. 
 
 Also, several of the birds looked sickly and exhibited 
 disquieting symptoms which Jeannie was too depressed 
 to diagnose from the poultry manuals. 
 
2o6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 The weather, the dismal tale of eggs, the ailing hens, 
 further contributed to her physical and mental undoing : 
 she repeatedly asked herself if her present life were worth 
 living. 
 
 She ate no midday meal ; Ethel's proffered consolations 
 irritated her ; she could not get any sleep in the afternoon : 
 her nerves were raw. 
 
 When evening came, her isolation, surroundings, troubles, 
 and physical condition all combined to convince her that 
 she was fighting a hopeless battle, inasmuch as if she so 
 much as succeeded in making a hving from the poultry 
 farm, it did not mean the retention of Edgar's affection, 
 much less his love. 
 
 About eight, she was seized by a nameless dread : 
 the silent house, the quiet fields, seemed to mock her 
 extremity. 
 
 Scarcely knowing what she was at, she put on her hat, 
 caught up the first pair of gloves that came to hand, and 
 without a word to Ethel left her home and strode in the 
 direction of the station. 
 
 She had a hazy idea of what time the next train left for 
 London, but had half made up her mind that, if she found 
 one at the station, she would go to town, seek Joe out and, 
 after telling him how wretched her life had become, be- 
 seech him to give her harbourage. 
 
 The wind had changed since the afternoon ; it was 
 now misty and close : over the distant river lay a thick 
 fog. 
 
 As she went, the sound of the fog-horns on outward-bound 
 ships came from the river : they were like the bellowing 
 of great beasts which had lost their way. 
 
 Now and again, the distant muttering of thunder 
 sounded as the menacing growling of a rival herd. 
 
 Occasionally, she would discern a bright light in a 
 distant house : it was like a superb planet which, in success- 
 fully defying the attraction of the sun, was always in the 
 same place. 
 
JEANNIE DESPAIRS 207 
 
 Presently, she passed a gateway of Sir Roger Pightle's 
 park, and a little way farther came upon the baronet's 
 cart being slowly driven from the station, while Sir Roger, 
 according to almost invariable custom, was trotting beside 
 it to keep himself warm. 
 
 In walking an avenue of trees (they dripped water upon 
 her) she heard footsteps, at which she was conscious of the 
 beating of her heart : Edgar, mightily pleased with himself 
 after a convivial day with Pightle, was approaching on his 
 way home, his friend having arranged to stay in town for 
 the night. 
 
 When he came upon her suddenly out of the mist, she 
 was moved to pass him without taking any notice of him ; 
 she almost succeeded in not being observed, when he called 
 her name : she took no notice and pressed on. 
 
 He came after her, and perceiving it was indeed Jeannie, 
 he again called her by name. 
 
 " Let me go on," she cried. 
 
 " What's this mean ? " 
 
 " Let me go on : let me go on.' 
 
 "But where ?"_ 
 
 " Anywhere. Good-bye." 
 
 He followed and grasped her arm : she was disposed 
 to protest, but his touch thrilled her body and made her 
 realise how abjectly she loved him, how pitifuUy she was 
 his. 
 
 " Jeannie ! Jeannie ! What's it all mean ? " 
 
 She looked at him with such a world of pain in her eyes 
 that he cried : 
 
 " Dearest ! " 
 
 The tenderness that had long been strange to his lips 
 broke down her last weak defence. 
 
 " Why are you unkind ? " she asked, whUe scalding 
 tears fell out of her eyes. 
 
 " Unkind ! " 
 
 " Now of all times." 
 
 " Now Jeannie ! I don't understand." 
 
208 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " I'll tell you. I must. I've been longing to for weeks, 
 but dare not." 
 
 " Jeannie ! " 
 
 " I'm going to have a little one. Yours and mine. 
 Bom of our love : and it's breaking my heart that you 
 don't love me any more." 
 
 There was a silence that she thought would last for ever. 
 
 If he turned on her now, as she half feared he would, she 
 was convinced it would kill her. 
 
 " My Jeannie ! " he delightedly cried. 
 
 She feared her ears had played her false. 
 
 " My own dear, darling Jeannie ! Why didn't you tell 
 me this before ? " 
 
 She looked at him with sweetly incredulous eyes, at 
 which, such was his present exaltation, that he took her 
 very tenderly in his arms and kissed her as if she were some 
 rare and precious thing. 
 
 She dimly strove to realise that Edgar's love was still 
 beyond all price ; that she must increase her efforts to 
 make the farm a success in order that money troubles 
 should not have a chance of once more coming between 
 them. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 JOE AND THE NIGHT 
 
 Things took a turn for the better with Jeannie, and in 
 more ways than one, after her revelation to her 
 husband. 
 
 For all that she had made her communication to Edgar 
 when he was on the best of terms with himself and the 
 world at large, her information seemingly had the effect 
 of fanning into flame the embers of his love for his wife, 
 with the result that he was again much of the lover of 
 the old days. 
 
 Whether or not it was on account of anxious solicitude 
 for what might befaU Jeannie during her approaching 
 ordeal, remorse for his coldness, anticipation of parental 
 pride in being responsible for bringing into the world 
 another Baverstock, or a combination of these emotions, 
 he devoted his days to furthering his wife's comfort, and 
 to doing his utmost to rouse the stock on the farm to a 
 more conscientious performance of their duties. 
 
 He would not allow Jeannie to do any work outside the 
 house ; with the occasional assistance of Pightle, he 
 attended to the smallest details of the business, and would 
 not permit his wife to so much as glance at the books, 
 she having to rest content with his frequent assurances 
 that things were "bucking up no end," as he termed 
 it. 
 
 Also, such was his new-found enthusiasm for his work 
 that he rarely played in Pightle's cricket eleven, a con- 
 siderable self-denial on his part, as he loved the game. 
 
 Once more Jeannie breathed an enchanted atmosphere 
 14 
 
2IO THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 of romance ; also, with regard to what was toward, her 
 little world had a deeper and more appealing quality than 
 it had ever known before. 
 
 The family at " P3^acantha " and Joe were acquainted 
 with the news, whfch brought letters of congratulation 
 from the different members of the Baverstock family, 
 while Jeannie's father wrote a long, tender letter to his 
 daughter, in which he expressed fervent wishes that her 
 little one would grow up to prove an abiding blessing to 
 his (or her) parents. 
 
 In the fulness of their hearts, Jeannie and Edgar had 
 written to ask Joe to fix a Sunday on which he could 
 conveniently come down : they had been compelled to 
 put him off on the day he had selected ; although they 
 had given him the choice of any following Sunday, or a 
 week-end should he prefer it, he had left the matter open, 
 but had not availed himself of the invitation. 
 
 Jeannie had written to say that she was coming herself 
 to bring her father to " Larkslease," but whether or not 
 he was waiting for this event, he had not replied. 
 
 She was not so disturbed at her father's apparent re- 
 luctance to visit her as might have been expected, she 
 luxuriating in Edgar's reawakened love ; also, it was not 
 very long before opportunities occurred for furthering her 
 social ambitions, which had the effect of diverting her 
 thoughts from Joe. 
 
 Before these occurred, she received one Sunday an 
 unexpected visit from her husband's cousins, the Hiblings, 
 who told her that, having heard the good news from the 
 Baverstocks at " Pyracantha," they had felt that writing 
 was inadequate, and nothing short of personal congratula- 
 tions would meet the case. Lucy Hibling, after declaring 
 Edgar was not looking so well as she had expected to 
 find him, had furnished Jeannie with a catalogue of noble 
 dames who were in a like interesting condition to her 
 own ; at the same time, her husband, who somehow looked 
 more bottle-shouldered in the country than in town, talked 
 
JOE AND THE NIGHT . 211 
 
 society with Edgar, who, to tell the truth, was rather hored 
 with his cousia's fifth-hand information. 
 
 The Hiblings had stayed to luncheon ; as Jeannie now 
 made a point of resting in the afternoon, Edgar had taken 
 his cousins for a walk. 
 
 When he was presently alone with his wife, he told her 
 how their visitors had made a point of being conducted 
 to the two or three properties of consequence in the neigh- 
 bourhood, when they had spoken to the respective lodge- 
 keepers of the families they served, and in so doing had 
 revealed an intimate knowledge of their histories and of 
 the recent comings and goings of the latter : it was evident 
 that the HibUngs had got up the subject before coming 
 down. 
 
 Before they had taken their departure, Lucy Hibling 
 had given Jeannie an account of all the bargain sales she 
 had recently attended : she had, also, asked for three dozen 
 eggs which, in the hurry of going, she had forgotten to 
 pay for. 
 
 One morning, young Pightle appeared with a long face. 
 
 " What's the matter with you ? " asked Jeannie, who 
 now regarded him as quite an old friend. 
 
 " Lots." 
 
 " Too dreadful to tell me ? " 
 
 " Not so bad as that. But you know I told you some 
 time ago that aunt Chrissy was coming." 
 
 " And she put you off ? " 
 
 " She's coming next week : it's a ' dead cert ' this 
 time." 
 
 "I see nothing very dreadful in that." 
 
 " You don't know aunt Chrissy. As I told you before, 
 when she's expected, the whole house is turned upside 
 down ; and when she's here, the pater and I have to manage 
 our p's and q's. No getting up when one likes, and having 
 meals when one Ukes, and all that. Everything has to be 
 ' just so ' when she's about." 
 
 " It probably does you a lot of good." 
 
212 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " That's just it. I don't want improving. I prefer to 
 be as I am. And there's something else I have to tell you. 
 You'll be upset when you know." 
 
 " WeU " 
 
 " D'ye know Mrs. Parlby ? " 
 
 " The vicar's wife ? " 
 
 " She was asking about you the other day, and when 
 I told her I was matey with Baverstock, she said she was 
 going to look you up. Are you very upset ? " 
 
 " I don't know that I am," replied Jeannie, who, in the 
 secret places of her heart, was pleased that people of local 
 importance were not above calling on her. 
 
 " That's all right, then. If I'd any idea you felt like 
 letting 'em all come, I shouldn't have said anything to 
 you about it." 
 
 " What is she like ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " To begin with, she doesn't think my barmaid imitations 
 funny. I did 'em once at a local concert, and although they 
 were the success of the evening she and her husband were 
 quite huffy about it." 
 
 " I can well believe that. What is he like ? " 
 
 " Parlby ? He's not like anything at all. He's neither 
 one thing nor the other." 
 
 " He's one of the handsomest men I have ever seen," 
 declared Jeannie, who had every justification for her eulogy 
 of the handsome parson. 
 
 " Maybe. But for all that, although I'm a bit of a 
 fool, Parlby beats me hollow." 
 
 Mrs. Parlby was as good as her word. 
 
 One June morning, Jeannie rested on the lawn, the while 
 she basked in the warmth of the day : although the sun 
 in drying up the brook had temporarily stayed its music, 
 the sunshine had called into being other sounds that were 
 eloquent of the month and season ; to these, she apprecia- 
 tively listened. 
 
 The melodious rattle of grass mowers was borne to her 
 ears by an enervated wind : behind the cottage the cries 
 
JOE AND THE NIGHT 213 
 
 of some guinea fowl Pightle had given her were Hke the 
 scraping of a hone upon a scythe : yellow-hammers com- 
 menced their song musically enough but, as if fearing to 
 get out of tune, they suffered their note to fall away some- 
 what drearily before trying again : now and again, a cuckoo 
 lazily called from the distance. 
 
 Then, Jeannie watched the gambols of two butterflies 
 which gaily chased each other about her before disappear- 
 ing behind the hedge bordering the road. 
 
 Hardly had they gone when Ethel appeared with her 
 mistress's eleven o'clock glass of stout. This was not free 
 of blacks, but Jeannie forbore to censure the girl by reason 
 of the kindly feeling which informed her action. 
 
 When Ethel left her, Jeannie feU to reflecting how from 
 her varied experiences of general servants she could divide 
 them into two classes : there were the efficient ones to 
 whom the suspicion of dirt was an abomination, but who 
 were prim, cold, and precise, and would not do a stroke 
 beyond what they conceived to be their duty ; on the other 
 hand, there were sluts like Ethel who, for aU their incom- 
 petent ways, had hearts of gold. 
 
 She was wondering which, for her husband's and her own 
 greater comfort, she preferred, when insensibly her thoughts 
 were wholly concerned with her approaching motherhood. 
 
 A thousand and one tender speculations possessed her ; 
 these were not infrequently overshadowed by apprehen- 
 sions of the ordeal through which it was written she must 
 pass. 
 
 Presently, she was retrospectively disposed ; with the 
 optimistic eyes of a happy present she surveyed her days 
 from her youth up. 
 
 So far as she could see in a rough-and-ready review 
 of her existence, it seemed that, quite apart from her 
 measured years, she had arrived at succeeding stages of 
 sophistication with regard to her outlook upon life. 
 
 Each had a more comprehensive range of vision than 
 the last ; she appeared to have travelled far in her know- 
 
214 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 ledge of good and evil and things : she wondered if, apart 
 from the bearing of a child, it were possible for any further 
 emotions and experiences to be hers. 
 
 The fact of her mind being occupied with her Ufe before 
 she was married recalled Joe insistently to her thoughts. 
 She dimly realised how indifferently she had treated him, 
 and resolutely refused to imagine any pains he may have 
 known at his long separation from his Jeannie. 
 
 In an access of remorse she had made up her mind to 
 write and beg Joe to come down at once, when she saw 
 a cart drive up to the gate, and an elderly, motherly- 
 looking woman descend, before approaching the cottage. 
 
 When she came upon Jeannie, she asked : 
 
 " Are you Mrs. Baverstock ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I'm Mrs. Parlby. Dick Pightle told me all about 
 you, and so I thought I'd come and see you, although 
 it is scarcely the correct time for making a call." 
 
 " It's very good of you. Will you come in, although 
 we're upside down ! " 
 
 " If you want to be out of doors, I can sit out here." 
 
 Thus it came about that another chair was fetched, and 
 in a very short time Mrs. Parlby was reciting the many 
 adventures attending the births of the four children she 
 had brought into the world. 
 
 Mrs. Parlby was a matter-of-fact, kindly woman, who 
 had not a gleam of humour in her composition ; she had, 
 as Jeannie divined, married rather above her own station 
 in life, her father having made his money in the lace trade- 
 
 Over and beyond her children's ailments, her staple 
 conversation consisted of housekeeping troubles, in which 
 the vagaries of servants and the difficulty of getting a 
 cook who did not drink seemed to play the chief part. 
 
 Apart from these matters, Mrs. Parlby took an abiding 
 interest in the doings of the " dear Queen " : she was 
 greatly surprised at learning that Jeannie did not possess 
 and had not read My Life in the Highlands. 
 
JOE AND THE NIGHT 215 
 
 As she had parochial duties to attend to she, to Jeannie's 
 chagrin, did not stay very long — chagrin, because the latter 
 particularly wished Mrs. Parlby to meet Edgar before she 
 went. 
 
 When the vicar's wife said " Good-bye," she promised 
 to lend Jeannie My Life in the Highlands, providing every 
 care was taken of the work. 
 
 When Edgar learned who had called, he was so elated 
 that his wife's determination to speak about making amends 
 for her conduct to her father was, for the time being, 
 forgotten. 
 
 " It's jolly good business," he said, as he sank wearily 
 into the chair the vicar's wife had vacated. 
 
 " Why good business, dearest ? " 
 
 " Once we know her, we shall come across all sorts of 
 useful people." 
 
 " But every one about here keeps poultry, if you're think- 
 ing of selling them eggs." 
 
 " That never occurred to me, practical little Jeannie ! " 
 
 " Little Jeannie is very practical, and rightly so. If she 
 wants to seU eggs it's because she doesn't want to see her 
 dearest working so hard and looking so tired." 
 
 " That's all right. But what I thought was this : That 
 if we go a ' buster ' over this poultry farm, one of these 
 well-off families about here may get me some decent job." 
 
 Jeajmie's face fell, at which he asked : 
 
 " What's wrong with that, little girl ? " 
 
 " You said if we go a ' buster ' over poultry. You're 
 always telling me things are looking up." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " Only at breakfast you said you'd more orders " 
 
 " That's aU right," he interrupted. " A few minutes ago 
 I mistook a china egg for a genuine one, and it's quite 
 depressed me." 
 
 It took Jeannie some twenty-four hours to get accustomed 
 to the fact of Mrs. Parlby's call, when she again thought of 
 Joe, and of her neglectful behaviour to him. 
 
2i6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 This time she was on the point of sitting down to write 
 penitently to her father, which letter would accompany his 
 consignment of eggs, when she heard a peremptory knock 
 on the front door ; knowing that Ethel was unpresentable 
 in the morning, Jeannie answered it herself, when she found 
 an imposing-looking, carelessly turned out, middle-aged 
 woman standing outside. 
 
 " Hullo ! " said this person. 
 
 " Good morning," replied Jeannie. 
 
 " May I come in ? " 
 
 " Certainly, but " 
 
 " Shan't keep you long. I'm Mrs. King, Dick's aunt. 
 Which way ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid it's rather untidy," said Jeannie nervously, 
 as she glanced at the litter made by Edgar when writing 
 letters. 
 
 " What of that ? Besides, it shows some one's been busy. 
 Where shall I sit ? " 
 
 Dick's aunt, although well past her first youth, still re- 
 tained considerable physical attractions, to which a personal 
 distinction contributed not a little. 
 
 She was essentially a woman who had what is vulgarly 
 known as a mind of her own ; she lived her life with scant 
 regard for the opinions of relations or friends. 
 
 Possessing an active mind and body, she occupied her 
 leisure and means with a sequence of more or less expensive 
 hobbies ; such was the energy and ability she brought to 
 bear on these that, in many instances, they almost paid 
 their way. 
 
 She had a fund of humour and would joke broadly, 
 familiarly with tradespeople and dependants, and would 
 tolerate any reply so long as due respect was paid to her 
 position : should this latter be forgotten, however, the de- 
 linquent was unmistakably reminded of his or her mistake, 
 and in a manner that was not likely to be forgotten, the 
 baronet's sister having a rich and varied vocabulary of 
 strong language. 
 
JOE AND THE NIGHT 217 
 
 For all her force of character, and the fact of her " not 
 caring a blow for any one," as she so often declared, her 
 fearless disposition had marked poetical leanings, which 
 manifested themselves in an intense love of nature, music, 
 and good verses : when moved by these, she was as per- 
 verse and absent-minded as any poet, living in a dream- 
 world of her own. 
 
 She was the bane of her lazy nephew's life, his effete 
 father's, and of his happy-go-lucky establishment, as she had 
 a knack of turning up when things were at their worst, 
 when she would roundly assail any and every one who she 
 believed had been at all remiss in their duties. 
 
 King was about the most suitable husband she could have 
 wedded, he being a reserved, self-contained man, who let 
 his wife do pretty much as she pleased : should she ever 
 wound his not very exigent susceptibilities, however, he 
 would make use of a pretty turn he possessed for invective, 
 which generally had the effect of bringing his headstrong 
 spouse to her bearings. 
 
 Now, Mrs. King lay back in her chair and crossed her legs 
 in a manner that was considered, to put it mildly, uncon- 
 ventional in those days, before saying : 
 
 " How's love in a cottage ? " 
 
 " Love in a cottage is quite well, thank you." 
 
 " No holes in the roof ? " 
 
 « Not yet." 
 
 " Although you're poultry farmin' ? " 
 
 " What has that to do with it ? " 
 
 " Any one can see you're from London." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Havin' such touchin' faith in what you're doin'. But 
 as it's all done for a lark, as Dick says, it doesn't 
 matter." 
 
 " It doesn't matter," repeated Jeannie as casually as she 
 was able, while she strove to conceal the sinking of spirit 
 which she knew. 
 
 Although her caller, in common with many other women 
 
2i8 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 of character, had no particular love for those of her own sex, 
 she had at once divined how matters stood financially with 
 her- nephew's comely friend, consequently she was more 
 disposed to make herself agreeable than she might otherwise 
 have been. 
 
 " I came in fear and tremblin'," she went on. 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " To see what sort of people Dick had picked up. I'm 
 more than pleased." 
 
 " Thank you," said Jeannie, who was greatly troubled by 
 reason of Mrs. King's insinuation that there was no money 
 in poultry farming, confirming as it did her own suspicions 
 on the subject : she was about to question her on the 
 matter when Edgar came into the room. 
 
 Mrs. King, who had a keen eye for a personable young 
 man, at once became animated, while years seemed taken 
 from her life ; she went out of her way to make herself 
 interesting and amusing ; she incidentally mentioned how 
 she was determined to make her nephew take up something 
 definite. 
 
 She stayed for nearly an hour ; before she went, she said : 
 
 " I'm goin' away almost directly : when I'm here again, 
 you must both come up and see us." 
 
 " Delighted," said Jeannie. 
 
 " And whether or not the hens lay, you've two priceless 
 assets." 
 
 " Is a clay soU one of them ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " Love and youth. Make the most of 'em while you can," 
 replied the visitor. 
 
 Edgar accompanied Mrs. King to the gate where a cart, 
 drawn by a thoroughbred pony, awaited her ; she drove 
 away herself. 
 
 The prospects of social and material advancement ex- 
 cited by Mrs. King's friendliness were such that Joe's claims 
 did not receive the consideration they more than merited, 
 although Jeannie was always on the point of doing some- 
 thing in the matter. 
 
JOE AND THE NIGHT 219 
 
 One reason for her delay was that she knew how her 
 husband had never in his heart forgiven Joe for his unfor- 
 tunate appearance at the " Pyracantha " dinner-party ; 
 with the selfish absorption of the woman in love, she in- 
 variably more or less identified her point of view with that 
 of the man she adored. 
 
 Whenever a supply of eggs or poultry was sent to Joe, she, 
 as often as not, contented herself with writing, " With best 
 love," or some such message on Edgar's acknowledgment 
 of the former's postal order. 
 
 Another reason why she behaved so indifferently was 
 that she had an abiding fear that things were not going 
 nearly so well on the poultry farm as Edgar constantly 
 made out, he, for all his expressed optimism on the matter, 
 being frequently depressed and moody. 
 
 Then, as the weeks flew by, she was troubled by the altera- 
 tion in Edgar's appearance, he looking thin and worn. 
 
 At first, she put down the change to the fact of his worry- 
 ing on her account ; later, she feared the work of the farm 
 was proving too much for his strength. 
 
 Whenever Joe was discussed, they invariably arrived at 
 the same conclusion ; this, that as they were anything but 
 prosperous, and in the face of what was toward with 
 Jeannie, they had better postpone asking him down tiU 
 after her httle one was born. 
 
 For three October days before, and during the night that 
 this event took place, the flood-gates of heaven were opened, 
 and the winds blew in gusts that shook the cottage to its 
 foundations. 
 
 While Jeannie lay in her protracted torment, long-for- 
 gotten incidents in her life would suddenly impinge upon 
 her agony, incidents in which her father, to whom she had 
 written to prepare him for the news he might shortly ex- 
 pect, prominently figured. 
 
 Outside, the violent wind and rain storms for a time alter- 
 nated with peaceful intervals, and Jeannie, in her effort to 
 distract her mind from her anguish, listened with straining 
 
220 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 ears to catch the music of the stream when it was at all 
 possible to hear it. 
 
 Her nerves were so on edge that her senses were preter- 
 naturally acute ; she was presently convinced that she 
 could distinguish footsteps passing and repassing in the 
 road. 
 
 Their persistence so disturbed her that she was at last 
 constrained to stop her ears with her fingers in order not 
 to hear them. 
 
 Even then, she was certain that they were stUl pacing the 
 road ; the repeated denials of those who were about her 
 failed to disabuse her agitated mind of this belief. 
 
 At last, her extremity on this score was such that Edgar 
 was communicated with : he, at once, went out into the 
 night in order to assure Jeannie that her apprehensions 
 were groundless. 
 
 He was absent some little while, which fact had anything 
 but a calming effect on his wife's grievous imaginings. 
 
 When she was on the point of insisting that others should 
 ascertain what had become of him, she heard his well- 
 known step, accompanied by those of another, approaching 
 the cottage. 
 
 It was not very long before she was told that it was her 
 father who was outside in the night ; also, that he would 
 remain until Jeannie knew a happy issue from her extremity. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 JOE AND THE CHILDREN 
 
 It was not till some four months after a son was bom to 
 Jeannie that she learned from Edgar of the financial 
 disaster with which they were menaced. 
 
 Immediately after the rapid recovery she had made, she 
 had been greatly troubled at noticing how iU her husband 
 was looking ; she had previously seen how he had not been 
 in his usual health, but had put down this declension to 
 anxiety on her behalf : since she was now qxiite well, and 
 he was in no better case, his continued indisposition had 
 caused her endless anxiety. 
 
 As if this were not enough to distress her, he had been 
 attacked by influenza, which he was a long Ume getting 
 over. Even when he became more like his old self, physi- 
 cally, he appeared to have much on his mind : it was only 
 in response to her frequent appeals for his confidence that 
 he had divulged how matters stood. 
 
 It was a dismal story he had to teU Jeannie. 
 
 When he had taken over the entire management of the 
 poultry, matters had quickly gone from bad to worse, chiefly 
 owing to an outbreak of chicken cholera which had ravaged 
 the stock, the sourness of the runs and ground being re- 
 sponsible for this disease. 
 
 As a desperate means of averting disaster, Edgar had 
 asked his father to suggest a profitable Stock Exchange 
 speculation, and the latter had repUed that he knew of the 
 very thing : he had advised his son to buy as many partly 
 paid shares as he could afiord in a certain American land 
 company in which he (Reuben) was largely interested. 
 
222 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 In the hope of emerging from his financial slough of despond, 
 Edgar had raised as much as possible on " Larkslease," 
 and had acted on his father's recommendation. 
 
 The result had been bitterly disappointing, an American 
 panic having reduced his shares to an unsaleable value 
 almost directly after he had parted with his money. 
 
 Baverstock had written to lament their joint ill-luck, and 
 at the same time had urged Edgar to hold on to the shares 
 at all costs, as they would ultimately prove extremely 
 profitable. 
 
 Edgar, however, was entirely concerned with the present : 
 the expenses of Jeannie's illness had eaten up a good half 
 of his remaining capital ; he was going to London on the 
 morrow to sell his last hundred pounds' worth of Consols ; 
 most of this was owing to local tradespeople. 
 
 Neither he nor Jeannie had the slightest idea of what to 
 be at in order to keep a roof over their heads. There was no 
 hope of assistance from Reuben Baverstock, even if he were 
 disposed to help them, he being badly hit over the land com- 
 pany in which Edgar had lost so heavily. 
 
 For some time, Edgar had cherished an idea that the well- 
 to-do people he had got to know locally might help him to 
 something ; although they occasionally saw Mrs. King, and 
 had become acquainted with one or two of her friends, there 
 seemed small prospect of this leading to anything tangible. 
 
 For all these tribulations, Jeannie was not so downcast 
 as she might have been under like circumstances a few 
 months back. 
 
 To begin with, she had her boy : in the fulness of her 
 young motherhood, such a possession endowed her with 
 that which was more priceless and precious than anything 
 material the world could bestow. 
 
 Also, as Edgar was proud of, and really devoted to his 
 son, she knew that whatever further financial adversity 
 was theirs, she was sure of her husband's devotion where 
 before she had been uncertain. 
 
 On the afternoon following the day on which she had 
 
JOE AND THE CHILDREN 223 
 
 learned Edgar's ill news, she was resting in " Larkslease," 
 and awaiting a visit from Mrs. Parlby, who had announced 
 her intention of calling about four. 
 
 She had left her boy sleeping upstairs ; as she mused 
 before the fire, she kept an attentive ear on the room above, 
 so that she should know directly he was awake. 
 
 Then, her thoughts were possessed by her father. 
 
 Her baby had been born in the small hours of the morn- 
 ing following on the night when Edgar had discovered Joe 
 pacing up and down in the rain and wind storms outside 
 the house. 
 
 He had been presently permitted to come into the room 
 for a few moments when, after he had reverently kissed 
 Jeannie and the little one, the young mother, exhausted 
 from her fierce ordeal, had passed her hands caressingly 
 across Joe's face, at which he had suddenly gripped her arm. 
 
 He had waited downstairs till the afternoon ; when the 
 doctor had assured him how Jeannie was as well as could 
 be expected, he, for all the fact of Edgar's pressing him to 
 stay, had insisted on taking his departure, saying that, 
 since he knew the worst was safely over, he was better out 
 of the way. 
 
 Edgar had written daily for a week to tell him how 
 Jeannie was going on ; she, later, had sent to tell him how 
 well she was progressing ; the letters he wrote in reply were 
 eloquent of an abiding thankfulness for her recovery. 
 
 She had long meant to ask him down, but, as she was un- 
 able to afford a nurse, nearly all her time was taken up with 
 her boy ; then, she had nursed Edgar when he was ill, and 
 at the same time had been compelled to look after the 
 poultry, in which latter task she had been assisted by a 
 suddenly energetic Pightle. 
 
 Joe's visit was not the only thing with which these 
 matters had interfered : the christening of the Uttle one, 
 who was to be called Edgar Joseph, had of necessity been 
 put off : when Jeannie was about to arrange this event, and 
 at the same time invite her father, who was to be one of the 
 
224 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 godfathers, she had been troubled by Edgar's downcast 
 spirits and appearance, which had moved her to question 
 him, with the result that he had told her of their financial 
 extremity. 
 
 Directly she had heard the lU news, she determined not 
 to communicate with her father just yet : in the first place, 
 she was not in the mood to have even Joe in the house while 
 she was immersed in pecuniary worries ; also, as sooner or 
 later her father would learn of these, she did not wish to 
 run the risk of giving him the impression that she was eager 
 to have him with her when she and her husband were in 
 difficulties. 
 
 As in the days before her baby was born, she wrote Uttle 
 messages on Edgar's acknowledgments of Joe's postal 
 orders for eggs. 
 
 Her mother-in-law had lately written to ask her and 
 Edgar and the little one to pay a long visit to " Pyra- 
 cantha " ; Jeannie told herself that if they availed them- 
 selves of this invitation, which they might be compelled to 
 accept, she would then have every opportunity of con- 
 stantly seeing her father, as he was still living at Putney. 
 
 She was easing the prickings of her conscience respect- 
 ing her behaviour to Joe with this reflection, when Mrs. 
 Parlby was announced : she had not been with Jeannie 
 five minutes when the young mother was flattered by her 
 visitor's request to see the baby. 
 
 Mrs. Parlby was taken upstairs to Jeannie's room, where 
 the child was peacefully sleeping : it had been duly ad- 
 mired, and Jeannie was about to ask the invariable question 
 as to which parent it most resembled, when she heard voices 
 outside the cottage : upon going to the window, she saw 
 Edgar approaching the door with Mrs. King, who was 
 paying one of her flpng visits to her brother. 
 
 When Mrs. Parlby and Jeannie presently went down- 
 stairs, they found Edgar and Mrs. King in the little drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " Don't ask me to see the baby," said Mrs. King, as she 
 
JOE AND THE CHILDREN 225 
 
 greeted Jeannie. " I don't like babies at all, so it's no use 
 pretendin' one does." 
 
 Although Jeannie, who was now well used to her ac- 
 quaintance's oddities, was not in the least offended, Mrs. 
 Parlby looked shocked. 
 
 " Very well, then, I shan't come and see any of your 
 puppies," the latter remarked to Mrs. King, who had lately 
 gone in for breeding greyhounds. 
 
 " That's your loss," retorted Mrs. King, who then turned 
 to Jeannie to say : " What I came for w£is this. There're 
 the point to point races, on Wednesday week, near us. If 
 you and your husband are goin', you'd better come to 
 luncheon ; we've aU sorts of people comin'." 
 
 " Dick's riding, isn't he ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " He thinks he is. I'm not going to let him." 
 
 " What has Dick done ? " 
 
 " It isn't what he's done ; it's what he's goin' to do. Old 
 Pakeley, who's thousands of acres over Pitfield way, wants 
 an agent ; I've told Dick if he doesn't apply for the job, 
 he'll get into trouble with me." 
 
 " What does Dick say ? " 
 
 " He flatly refuses." 
 
 " It's the way of the world," complained Edgar. " Those 
 who want billets can't get 'em ; those who can get them, 
 won't take 'em." 
 
 " I've made up my mind this time," remarked Mrs. King. 
 " And as for old Pakeley, Dick can do what he likes with 
 him. If you come, you'll meet the old boy on Wednesday 
 week." 
 
 " We shall be delighted," said Edgar and Jeannie 
 together, while the latter wished her husband had the same 
 opportunities of obtaining remunerative employment as 
 his friend. 
 
 Then the vicar's wife questioned Mrs. King with regard 
 
 to her latest hobby, the breeding of greyhounds, at which 
 
 the former explained how she had got on to a really good 
 
 thing this time, inasmuch as she had paid for the last 
 
 15 
 
226 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 winner of the Waterloo cup to sire her brood-bitches, which 
 would mean that she could obtain a high price for the 
 " slips." 
 
 " Slips ? " queried Mrs. Parlby. 
 
 " Pups. . Didn't you know greyhound puppies are 
 caUed ' slips ' ? " 
 
 Mrs. Parlby gave the dog-breeder the impression that she 
 disapproved of her latest occupation, at which Mrs. King 
 asked, point-blank : 
 
 " What's wrong with dog-breedin' ? " 
 
 After many hesitations, Mrs. Parlby replied : 
 
 " Well, dear, don't you think it's a little vulgar ? " 
 
 " That never occurred to me before," replied Mrs. King. 
 " I'm much obliged to you. It makes me keener on it than 
 ever." 
 
 Mrs. Parlby thought it expedient to change the subject ; 
 although Mrs. King was geniality itself, Jeannie believed 
 she was secretly annoyed at the other woman's reflection 
 on the propriety of her new pursuit. 
 
 Somehow, the subject of masculine strength cropped up, 
 when Mrs. King remarked : 
 
 " You've no idea how powerful my husbemd is." 
 
 " He scarcely looks it," said Mrs. Parlby. " But it's 
 very hard to tell from appearances." 
 
 " When he's nothin' on, he seems all bone and muscle," 
 continued Mrs. King. 
 
 " My husband has a very fine figure," declared Mrs. 
 Parlby, and with truth. " When he's undressed, he looks 
 beautiful." 
 
 " Yes, doesn't he ? " queried Mrs. King enthusiastically, 
 and in the manner of one confirming the most matter-of- 
 fact remark. 
 
 The vicar's wife put down her teacup, coughed, took 
 it up again, and, at risk of spUling tea over her frock, swept 
 some crumbs that had fallen from her lap into the fireplace. 
 
 As for Jeannie, she did not know what to make of Mrs. 
 King's remark until she saw how Edgar had turned away 
 
JOE AND THE CHILDREN 227 
 
 to conceal his smiles, at which she was surprised at one in 
 Mrs. King's position going out of her way to make such a 
 vulgar and tactless joke. 
 
 This behaviour on the part of one who she thought 
 should know better troubled her while the two women were 
 with her (Mrs. Parlby was very distant to Mrs. King at 
 parting) and at intervals during the evening when she was 
 engaged with her baby or discussing ways and means with 
 Edgar; indeed, it so worried her that she mentioned the 
 matter to him when she wen,t with him to London on the 
 following afternoon, where he was going to sell his last 
 hundred pounds' worth of Consols ; she, to do some exiguous 
 but necessary shopping. 
 
 " I can't understand it, dear," she began. 
 
 " Understand what ? " 
 
 " Mrs. King saying what she did to Mrs. Parlby." 
 
 " About how nice Parlby looked when he was un- 
 dressed ? " 
 
 " Yes. I should have thought she would have known 
 better." 
 
 " It was funny, though," said Edgar, smiling at the re- 
 collection of Mrs. King's audacity. 
 
 " I wonder what you would have said if I had spoken like 
 that ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't say anything at all. I should at once apply 
 for a divorce," declared Edgar gravely. 
 
 " Dearest ! " 
 
 " What else could it mean but that I'd every justifica- 
 tion? But, speaking seriously, it seems that my pretty 
 Jeannie, who loves me far too dearly to think of handsome 
 parsons, does not know what a difference money and an 
 unassailable social position make to any one. People like 
 Mrs. King are a law to themselves, and can say and do 
 pretty much as they please, while people in our position 
 have to be very careful what they're at." 
 
 " One law for the rich, and another for the very poor," 
 smiled Jeannie. 
 
228 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " That's exactly it, little Jeannie. And do you know 
 why those in our position have to be so careful ? ' There's a 
 reason for that as there is for most other things." 
 
 " Well ? " said Jeannie, as, the carriage being empty, she 
 nestled nearer to her husband. 
 
 " It's this way, little girl. The highly respected middle 
 classes, to which we both have the honour to belong, are 
 never quite sure of themselves or of their precise position 
 on the social ladder, consequently they're always on their 
 best behaviour in order not to be found wanting in the eyes 
 of their world." 
 
 " I don't quite understand ; but it all sounds very 
 clever," remarked Jeannie, who would much have preferred 
 to sit on Edgar's knee than to listen to his disquisition. 
 
 He, unaware of her tender leanings, followed his train of 
 thought. 
 
 " That explains the sheer propriety of the middle classes, 
 and aU that sort of thing. And thus it comes about that 
 snobbishness is the handmaid of morality." 
 
 " That's the kind of remark Moimtjoy says," commented 
 Jeannie. 
 
 Edgar, ignoring her comment, went on : 
 
 " And here's something else — I feel quite clever this after- 
 noon ; I suppose it's the change of air — the middle classes, 
 in being compelled to be always on their best behaviour, 
 are the trustees of refinement." 
 
 Although Edgar's face was alive with intelligence just 
 then, Jeannie, with a pain at her heart, saw how weary and 
 careworn he was looking ; she spoke of the matter, but he 
 rather increased her apprehensions than otherwise when he 
 assured her that his mind, for the time being, was iimocent 
 of worry. 
 
 " You know what is before us ! " she urged. 
 
 " I wish I did. Then I might be upset," he laughed. 
 " But, seriously ! I've every hope of the ' point to point ' 
 race luncheon at Mrs. King's leading to something." 
 
 Jeannie sadly smiled, at which he said : 
 
JOE AND THE CHILDREN 229 
 
 " I know it sounds foolish, little Jeannie, but just you 
 wait and see if I'm not right." 
 
 When they got out at Fenchurch Street, and walked the 
 crowded ways of the City in the direction of the broker's 
 office, Jeannie could not help noticing how most of the 
 many men they encountered had no eyes for her, but only 
 for her husband ; she marvelled at the cause, until she 
 noticed that Edgar's buttonhole of azaleas, which was com- 
 posed of some that had been given her by Dick Pightle, 
 was responsible for the attention he attracted, so many of 
 those who earn their bread in London being ardent gardeners 
 in their spare time. 
 
 Mr. Rudge, Edgar's broker, was a beefy, red-necked 
 man ; he looked more like a prosperous farmer than a 
 dealer in stocks and shares ; directly he caught sight of 
 his cUent, he reached for his taU hat and asked Edgar and 
 Jeannie to accompany him to the Bank of England. 
 
 " Seen your father lately ? " he presently asked of 
 Edgar ; he had been previously eyeing the latter's 
 buttonhole. 
 
 " Not very recently." 
 
 " They say he's very hard hit over the Barfield Land 
 Company." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " You didn't have anything in it, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Very little." 
 
 " I'm glad of that. It may be all right in time, but 
 things will probably be worse before they're better. But 
 here we are. As I sent on the papers, we won't keep you 
 very long." 
 
 They entered the Bank of England, when Jeannie was 
 not a little awed by her surroundings ; these, in being the 
 outward and visible signs of untold wealth, seemed to 
 insist on her own financial insignificance, a fact of which she 
 was already too well aware. 
 
 When they arrived at the department dealing with the 
 realisation of Consols, the broker approached a desk at 
 
230 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 which sat a lanky, bald, worried-looking man, whose face 
 was decorated with red whiskers. 
 
 " Afternoon, Mr. Spanker," said Rudge. 
 
 " Afternoon, Mr. Rudge," replied the bank clerk. 
 
 " This is Mr. Edgar Baverstock, who is selling a hundred 
 pounds' worth of Consols." 
 
 " I think we have the papers here, sir," said Mr. Spanker, 
 who became more formal and businesslike every minute. 
 Please be good enough to answer my questions." 
 
 He set about catechising Edgar with a view to proving 
 his identity ; the replies being satisfactory, Mr. Spanker 
 said to the broker : 
 
 " All in order, Mr. Rudge." 
 
 " Glad to hear it, Mr. Spanker." 
 
 " Will you have the money in notes, or in notes and gold, 
 sir ? " he asked of Edgar, after the latter had carried out the 
 necessary formalities. 
 
 " Twenty in gold ; the rest in notes." 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 Then, while Edgar counted the money, Mr. Spanker 
 turned to Rudge, to exclaim quite plaintively : 
 
 " My fowls won't lay ! " 
 
 " Still ? " 
 
 " One egg the whole of last week, and I've tried every- 
 thing. Can't you suggest anything, Rudge ? " 
 
 " Give it up, Spanker." 
 
 " It's keeping me awake at night." 
 
 Edgar's business being completed, he pocketed his money 
 and shook hands with the broker ; he left him talking to 
 Spanker, who was visibly relapsing from the ofificial bank 
 clerk into the perplexed amateur keeper of poultry. 
 
 " I thought that chap kept hens," said Edgar to Jeannie, 
 as they left the bank. " He's caught the worried look they 
 have when they're about to lay an egg." 
 
 " He wishes he'd the chance of catching it." 
 
 " I suppose they laid once upon a time. Even ours did. 
 Now for a hansom." 
 
JOE AND THE CHILDREN 231 
 
 Jeannie, who was worrying to get back to her little onei 
 , and wondering how he would take to his temporary diet of 
 cow's milk in her absence, accompanied her husband to 
 Regent Street, where he insisted on " blowing," as he called 
 it, the best part of twenty pounds on buying pretty things 
 for his Jeannie. 
 
 " It's wicked, sweetheart," she somewhat faintly pro- 
 tested. " The money isn't ours ; we owe nearly every 
 penny." 
 
 " 'Stolen fruits are always sweetest,' " laughed Edgar. 
 " I want you to look smart for the ' forlorn hope.' " 
 
 " The what ? " 
 
 " Mrs. King's luncheon crowd. If you're nicely turned 
 out, it may make all the difference in my prospects. Be- 
 sides, it's probably our last chance of having a little flutter. 
 Let's make hay while we can still see the sun." 
 
 But for her eagerness to get back to the baby, she would 
 have stayed in town for dinner, a proceeding Edgar urged 
 upon her. 
 
 They got into a cab for Fenchurch Street, but, at the 
 top of Cornhill, Edgar insisted on getting out and paying 
 the cabman, as he wanted to buy some oysters for Jeannie 
 in Leadenhall Market. 
 
 When they were about to cross Gracechurch Street 
 opposite the entrance to this place, the press of traffic was 
 such that they were separated, although Jeannie was un- 
 expectedly assisted across the road by a stalwart policeman. 
 
 She was looking about for Edgar, when an altogether un- 
 expected sight met her gaze. 
 
 Her father, looking aged and worn, was distributing buns 
 from a big bag he carried to the poor children who wait 
 patiently outside fishmongers' and poulterers' for the food 
 that is given away at the close of the day. 
 
 She was divided between a desire to speak to him and fear 
 of losing Edgar. 
 
 She stood quite still, and, although Joe more than once 
 looked in her direction, he did not appear to see her. 
 
232 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Then, in turning to see if Edgar were in sight, she per- 
 ceived him on the farther side of Gracechurch Street looking 
 anxiously about him. 
 
 As he did not see her, she quickly crossed the road, but 
 by the time she was able to hurry him into the Market, Joe 
 was nowhere to be seen. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE FORLORN HOPE 
 
 Jeannie, assisted by Edgar, whom she had quickly told of 
 her having seen her father, looked this way and that, and 
 made inquiry of the Market salesmen (some of whom wear 
 straw hats all the year round), but without being able to 
 discover Joe ; his sudden disappearance made her believe 
 that he had seen her and of set purpose had avoided her. 
 
 The fact of her coming upon him so unexpectedly, the 
 good work he was doing, her conviction that he had not 
 wished to speak to her, troubled Jeannie much ; she could 
 think and talk of little else but her father on the way home, 
 and for the rest of the evening ; she had determined to take 
 the earliest opportimity of seeing him in town, and, if he 
 could possibly get away, to bring him back with her to 
 " Larkslease." 
 
 Twice in the night she awoke with a start, when, for a 
 moment, it seemed that Joe was bending over her, as was 
 his wont when she was a child. 
 
 She had quite forgotten this tender concern, and its 
 recollection made her the more eager to see him with as 
 little delay as possible. 
 
 The long-postponed christening would be the ostensible 
 reason of her visit, Joe being one of the godfathers ; even 
 as Edgar and she had again been brought together by the 
 prospect of the little one's coming, so Jeannie and her 
 father would be permanently reconciled over the ecclesi- 
 astical naming of his grandson. 
 
 She wondered if she could get away on the forthcoming 
 afternoon. 
 
234 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 But, for all Jeannie's determination to see her father, the 
 powers that ordered her life had willed otherwise, the 
 morning's post bringing such dire news that, for the time 
 being, even Joe was forgotten. 
 
 Edgar's unfortunate speculation had been in partly paid 
 shares of an American land company ; the bad tidings he 
 received were that a " Call " woidd shortly be made for the 
 balance of capital for which he was liable. 
 
 " Larkslease " being mortgaged for as much as could be 
 obtained, Edgar had not the least idea how this further 
 demand was to be met ; application to his father was out of 
 the question, inasmuch as he, also, would be badly hit over 
 the " Call " upon his considerable holding in the same 
 company. 
 
 As it is a dismal cominonplace that misfortunes never 
 come singly, Jeannie, whose present experience was no 
 exception to this rule, was also troubled during the morning 
 by applications for money, long since due, from tradesmen 
 who both wrote and called ; although she succeeded in 
 putting them off with promises of ultimate payment, she 
 rightly believed that, if it had not been for their acquaint- 
 ance with people of consequence in the neighbourhood, 
 those to whom they were indebted would have proceeded 
 to extremities. 
 
 Edgar, when speaking of their difficulties to his wife, 
 flatly refused to consider any plan of action till after the 
 forthcoming luncheon-party, he still adhering to his con- 
 viction that this event would lead to his getting something 
 tangible in the way of employment. 
 
 Whenever Jeannie thought of Joe, which she frequently 
 did, she deeply regretted she was, temporarily, prevented 
 from seeing him as she had so fully, determined ; but, apart 
 from being all but driven to distraction by the applications 
 of tradespeople for money, the financial disaster with which 
 her home was menaced, she, as on a similar occasion 
 when things were going ill, was reluctant to have her 
 father with her when in distress, inasmuch as he might 
 
THE FORLORN HOPE 235 
 
 believe that she delayed inviting him until she needed 
 assistance. 
 
 She, to some extent, solaced her conscience with regard 
 to Joe by writing him a long and tender letter in which, 
 while contriving to say little about herself beyond that she 
 was well and happy, were many expressions of regard for 
 him and solicitation for his well-being and comfort. 
 
 On the Sunday before the Wednesday on which she and 
 her husband were asked to the luncheon-party, Jeannie 
 tucked her little one into his perambulator before he was 
 taken out by Ethel ; while thus engaged, she wondered 
 why she had received no reply from Joe, although three 
 days had elapsed since she had written ; she wondered if 
 he were away on a holiday and, if so, if he had made arrange- 
 ments to have his letters forwarded. 
 
 When she had seen to her baby's comfort, and the girl 
 was setting off with her charge, Jeannie perceived that he 
 was being taken towards the station, although she had 
 previously told the girl to go in the contrary direction, this 
 leading to higher and, therefore, healthier ground. 
 
 She remembered that, on several occasions recently, Ethel 
 had disobeyed her in this respect, and she was about to 
 recall her in order to reprimand her when she was diverted 
 from her purpose by seeing a radiant Dick Pightle come in 
 at the gate. 
 
 " What's up with yt)u ? " asked Pightle as he caught 
 sight of his friend's none too cheerful face. " Why can't 
 you be happy and light-hearted, like I am ? " 
 
 " We can't all live your energetic, hard-working life," 
 replied Edgar, who, coming out just then, had overheard 
 this remark. 
 
 " There's no fear of that. That's why I'm so ' chirpy.' " 
 
 " What about your aunt ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " What about her ? That's just it." 
 
 " Isn't she still determined you're to work for an old 
 friend of yours ? " persisted Jeannie. 
 
 " That's all ancient history." 
 
236 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Is it ' off ' ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " Absolutely and finally. We had an awM bust up ; 
 she stormed and I grinned ; but I won after all." 
 
 " I should like to hear your aunt's version of the story," 
 remarked Jeannie. 
 
 " Buck up, and ask her. She'U only tell you how I got 
 round her." 
 
 " Your aunt doesn't strike me as a person who is very 
 easily got round." 
 
 " An57way, I managed it. And that's where I'm so clever. 
 I did an altogether new and original barmaid imitation ; 
 it made her laugh like anything, and afterwards she said she 
 gave me up altogether as a bad job." 
 
 While Jeannie was occupied with thoughts suggested by 
 Pightle's refusal to take the work he was offered, the two 
 men continued talking ; presently, Mrs. Parlby's name 
 caught her ear. 
 
 " What's up with Mrs. Parlby ? " Pightle was asking. 
 
 " Nothing that I know of," replied Edgar. " Why ? " 
 
 " Something's upset her." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " I dunno. All I know is this : Parlby often used to be at 
 our place upon his own ; he likes to borrow books from the 
 library. Now, whenever he comes, his missus is never far 
 off, peering and craning her neck in the most extraordinary 
 way. It quite worries me, but it amuses aunt Chrissy and 
 father ' no end.' " 
 
 Edgar proceeded to tell his friend of Mrs. King's remark 
 to the vicar's wife concerning Parlby's figure ; this, he ex- 
 plained, was doubtless responsible for Mrs. Parlby's strange 
 behaviour. 
 
 When Pightle was on the point of going, Jeannie resolved 
 to act on a resolution she had suddenly formed ; to this end, 
 she accompanied him to the gate. 
 
 " I want you to do something for me," said Jeannie, when 
 they were alone. 
 
 " Anything in the world, so long as you don't want me to 
 
THE FORLORN HOPE 237 
 
 be energetic," replied Pightle, to add as an afterthought : 
 " I really believe I'd work, though, if you asked me." 
 
 " Here's a chance of making good your words," continued 
 Jeannie, who had now some knowledge of the power pretty 
 and charming women wield over the male of their species. 
 " You know Mr. Pakeley wants an agent ? " 
 
 " Too well." 
 
 " I want you to promise me to do your best to get my 
 husband the billet." 
 
 Pightle stared in astonishment at Jeannie, before re- 
 marking : 
 
 " Say that again." 
 
 " I mean it," the other reassured him. 
 
 " You do surprise me. Aunt Chrissy was right after 
 aU." 
 
 " Why ? What did she say ? " 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " What did she say ? I wish to know." 
 
 " That no one in their senses would live in this mud flat 
 of an Essex unless they were hard up ; much less go in 
 for poultry." 
 
 " Will you do your best for me ? " pleaded Jeannie. 
 
 " That I win. It isn't often I make up my mind to do 
 anything ; when I do, I usually get there." 
 
 " Thank you," said Jeannie gratefully. 
 
 " That's all right. But, I say " 
 
 " WeU " 
 
 " I'm not really so very sorry you're down on your luck. 
 D'ye know why ? " 
 
 " WeU " 
 
 " You'll have to take that pub after all, and engage me as 
 barmaid. Then we'll make money hand over fist." 
 
 When Pightle had gone and Jeannie was about to return 
 to the house, she perceived a downcast-looking Ethel re- 
 turning with the baby, at which her mistress asked her why 
 she had come back so soon ; she could get nothing out of 
 the girl, and would have been angry with her had she not 
 
238 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 noticed that Ethel was sullenly setting off in the direction 
 in which she had wished her to go. 
 
 Jeannie did not mention to Edgar the request she had 
 made to his friend ; she could only possess her soul in what 
 patience she might on the chance of Pightle being able to 
 assist her husband to the employment of which he was in 
 need. 
 
 The following afternoon (she had stiU not heard from Joe) 
 her heart beat high with hope at learning from Ethel that 
 Mr. King wished to see either Edgar or her ; her husband 
 being busy in the runs just then, she hastened indoors to 
 her visitor. 
 
 King was a short, broad-shouldered man, who was 
 twiddling his thumbs between his knees as she came in. 
 
 Directly he saw her, he rose to his feet, shook hands, and 
 then sat down without saying a word. 
 
 It soon became evident to Jeannie that King was no 
 talker ; he mostly replied to her remarks with a nod, but, 
 if this did not meet the exigencies of the case, he went so 
 far as to employ a monosyllable ; entertaining him was 
 such uphill work that she was greatly relieved when Edgar 
 joined them. 
 
 If she had hoped that her husband's presence would have 
 thawed the visitor's reserve, she was disappointed ; al- 
 though he stayed for the best part of an hour, there was no 
 getting anything out of him beyond that he was going to 
 Paris on business on the morrow, and would not be present 
 at his wife's luncheon-party ; husband and wife were 
 greatly relieved when he got up to go. 
 
 Although Jeannie's hopes were raised somewhat by 
 King's visit, she did not mention to Edgar the most likely 
 cause of his coming, for which, she told herself, she had to 
 thank Pightle. 
 
 For the best part of the next two days, Jeannie, who had 
 still received no reply to her letter to Joe, nor his customary 
 postal order for eggs, was busy in her spare time making 
 ready for the luncheon-party, Edgar wishing her to look as 
 
THE FORLORN HOPE 239 
 
 smart as possible ; her preparations not a little reminded 
 her of the time immediately preceding the dinner-party at 
 " Pyracantha," to which she had been bidden to meet 
 Bringeman; the pleasurable anticipations with which she 
 had regarded that event ; the dismal climax occasioned by 
 her father's appearance. 
 
 In order to prepare Edgar for possible disappointment, she 
 reminded him of the similarity of the two anticipations, at 
 which he at length and repeatedly assured her (and doubt- 
 less himself) of the chances being hopelessly against the 
 possibility of two failures in succession. 
 
 Although Jeannie did not share her husband's optimism, 
 she was moved at seeing how the prospect of emerging from 
 his money troubles put such heart into Edgar that he was 
 quite another man, he looking alert and well, whereas 
 before he had been depressed and continually out of 
 sorts. 
 
 The change in his appearance put an end to the anxiety 
 she had of late almost continually known on the score of 
 his health. 
 
 The last post of the day before the luncheon-party at last 
 brought a letter from Joe ; it was written and addressed in 
 pencil, and ran as follows : 
 
 " 30 Eglantine Road, Fulham, 
 " Tuesday night. 
 
 " My dear Jeannie, — I hope you and yours are well and 
 happy. Since you have written, I am writing to tell you I 
 am not very grand myself, having caught a chUl. It is 
 nothing serious, but should much like to see you if you 
 could come up. Don't, if any bother. Love, as always, 
 from your ever-loving father, Joe." 
 
 Jeannie was aU for starting at once, and was only re- 
 strained by her husband, who argued that her father could 
 not be seriously ill, otherwise he would not only have said 
 so, but have requested his daughter's immediate presence ; 
 
240 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 it was evident that Edgar was eager to be accompanied by 
 his wife to the luncheon-party. 
 
 Words, phrases of the letter were debated at length, and 
 in the end Jeannie, much against her wUl, was persuaded 
 to compromise the matter by dispatching a telegram to 
 Joe saying she was coming for certain on Thursday morning, 
 but that if he wanted her immediately he was at once to 
 let her know. 
 
 She spent a disturbed night, was unsettled in the morning, 
 and, after dressing without taking any interest in what 
 she was at, she set off in the cart with her husband, her 
 heart full of misgivings for not having started for Putney 
 directly she had heard from her father. 
 
 They went for some minutes in silence, each being occu- 
 pied with their thoughts. Edgar was the first to speak. 
 
 " I know what my Jeannie is worrying about ; but I'm 
 convinced he's in no danger." 
 
 " He looked dreadfully ill when I saw him in London." 
 
 " That may have been the effect of the light. And 
 Londoners look unusually pallid to those who are accus- 
 tomed to see countrypeople as we are." 
 
 " He's a good age," persisted Jeannie. 
 
 " Sixty-two. That's nothing." 
 
 " But he's worked hard all his Ufe." 
 
 " What has that to do with it ? It's work that keeps 
 men going," cried Edgar, with the enthusiasm that the none 
 too energetic invariably express for those who labour tire- 
 lessly. " And look at the regular life he's led : no excesses 
 or anything of that sort." 
 
 " True," asserted Jeannie ; she was only too eager to 
 believe there was nothing seriously amiss with her father. 
 
 " D'ye know what kills quicker than anything ? " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Worry. I should say your father has had precious 
 little of that." 
 
 " I'm not so sure," replied Jeannie, whose conscience 
 was pricking her for her neglect of her father. " He lost 
 
THE FORLORN HOPE 241 
 
 mother, which was a terrible blow to him. Joe is a man 
 who feels very deeply. And since " 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 " His whole life centred on me. He must miss me very 
 much." 
 
 " Anyway, you'll be up the first thing in the morning." 
 
 " I was wondering if I could go up to-night." 
 
 " You'll be too tired, and — ^here we are. Look your 
 prettiest, little Jeannie : so much depends on the impres- 
 sion we make." 
 
 They had arrived at the nearmost lodge gate to " Wyven- 
 hoes," Sir Roger Pightle's house ; as they turned into the 
 ill-kept drive, Edgar muttered : 
 
 " Now for the forlorn hope." 
 
 A little way farther, Jeannie, who was endeavouring to 
 divert her mind from her father's indisposition, said: 
 
 " I don't see any other people." 
 
 " We started in such good time," replied her husband. 
 
 When Edgar had assisted Jeannie from the cart, and 
 had knocked at the front door, it was a very long time 
 before it was answered, at which they looked at each 
 other with apprehensive eyes. 
 
 Presently, when the door was at last opened, an un- 
 shaven man-servant looked at them in sulky surprise. 
 
 " Mrs. King in ? " asked Edgar. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Not ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Isn't she — I thought she was giving a luncheon-party 
 to-day." 
 
 " She went away Tuesday, sir ; and all of a sudden." 
 
 " Is Mr. Richard Pightle in ? " 
 
 " He be lunching out. What name, sir ? " 
 
 It was a thoroughly discomfited couple which drove 
 away from " Wyvenhoes " : Edgar was abjectly dumb- 
 founded, and looked aged and careworn, while Jeannie 
 was torn between a desire to hearten her husband and 
 16 
 
242 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 exasperation at having neglected Joe for such a barren 
 enterprise as the expected luncheon-party had proved. 
 
 She was not particularly angry at Mrs. King's rudeness, 
 because she was concerned for her husband and Joe ; also, 
 she had before heard of that person's social vagaries, which 
 were entirely owing to her occasional periods of absent- 
 mindedness. 
 
 That she and her husband were not the only victims 
 was proved by the three carts containing smartly dressed 
 folk they encountered before they reached the lodge gates. 
 
 " There's only one thing now," said Edgar presently. 
 
 " What, dearest ? " 
 
 " Bankruptcy. A nice disgrace for my name." 
 
 " Things aren't surely as bad as that." 
 
 " That's aU you know," he retorted savagely. 
 
 Directly they arrived at " Larkslease," Ethel ran out 
 with a telegram that had arrived in their absence : it was 
 addressed to Jeannie. 
 
 " From Mrs. King," suggested Edgar. 
 
 " I'm not so sure," replied Jeannie, as she tore at the 
 envelope with trembling hands. 
 
 The telegram was sent from Putney, and all it said was : 
 
 " Come at once." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 
 
 Jeannie waited in an immense suspense in the none too 
 large bed-sitting-room in which her father had lived since 
 he had given up his house. 
 
 Joe, oblivious of his daughter's presence, lay in the bed, 
 one of his hands grasping a forepaw of " Lassie," who 
 was beside him ; such was the latter's distress at her 
 friend's insensibility that she never took her eyes from his 
 face. 
 
 By the bedside was a table on which were medicine, 
 invalid nourishment, and a bottle of brandy. 
 
 Should Jeannie take her eyes from the sufferer, which, 
 such was her distress at the pitiful sight he presented, she 
 was more than once minded to do, her gaze would rest on 
 familiar articles of furniture from the old home ; being of 
 old-world make and design, their beauty and dignity were 
 in marked contrast to the lodging-house things which com- 
 pleted the equipment of the room : conspicuous among her 
 father's possessions was the solemn grandfather clock ; 
 now, as always, it was ticking with an assertive aloofness 
 to the joys and tribulations of life. 
 
 Jeannie had arrived shortly before four ; she had 
 travelled from Wicksea with all haste after receiving the 
 telegram, and had arranged with Edgar that, if she made 
 anything of a stay, he and Ethel should bring up her little 
 one. 
 
 Directly she had arrived at the house, she had gone 
 up to her father's room, to find him unconscious, dis- 
 posed to delirium, and apparently suffering from some 
 
244 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 form of lung trouble, he having difficulty with his 
 breathing. 
 
 Although Joe's extremity had cut her to the quick, 
 there had been no time to indulge her griefs, it being 
 obviously immediately necessary for her to set about 
 succouring her father. 
 
 She had made the bed comfortable, smoothed the pillows, 
 and tenderly kissed his now white head before descending 
 to see Mrs. Ebbage, the landlady. 
 
 This person was a big, stoutish, middle-aged, beefy- 
 faced woman who, dressed in a none too clean compromise 
 between a tea and a dressing gown, had a lackadaisical, 
 die-away manner which was in marked contrast to her 
 robust person. 
 
 " My father " Jeannie had breathlessly begun. 
 
 " Are you his daughter, Mrs. Baverstock ? " asked Mrs. 
 Ebbage wearily : the former had been shown upstairs by 
 a slatternly servant. 
 
 " I want to know all about his iUness. And I want the 
 doctor fetched." 
 
 " I'm glad you've come, as you can now see for yourself 
 how bad your pa is, and he worrying dreadful about you. 
 I've been bad myself." 
 
 " Is he seriously ill ? " Jeannie had asked impatiently. 
 
 " Whenever I eats a little pork, I always has a catch 
 under my 'eart." 
 
 " I'm asking about my father. Has he had a doctor ? " 
 
 " As I was sa5n[ng to Mrs. Eastlake " 
 
 " I want you to tell me about my father." 
 
 " I shall never make old bones myself," continued Mrs. 
 Ebbage, with weary imperturbability. 
 
 Jeannie, who was in no mood for trifling, pulled up 
 Mrs. Ebbage sharply, which, for the time being, had the 
 effect of bringing that person to her bearings. 
 
 She rose, nervously smoothed her soiled wrapper with 
 her hands, and with some approach to deference gave 
 Jeannie the particulars she needed. 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 245 
 
 According to Mrs. Ebbage, Joe had been ailing for some 
 time, seeming to have much on his mind : then, he had 
 had a sharp attack of influenza which was the more virulent 
 by reason of his insisting upon going to his employment. 
 He had been a bad patient, being ever wishful to get up, 
 and making the strongest objections to being kept in bed. 
 
 When the post was due he was most intractable, and 
 when he was convalescent, instead of looking after himself, 
 he would go out in aU weathers and at all times of the day 
 and evening in order to meet the postman on his rounds. 
 
 This proceeding had led to his catching a chiU, which 
 had set up pneumonia in the left lung, this dread illness 
 being complicated by an attack of ptomaine poisoning 
 which he had probably taken from his partiality for the 
 cheaper variety of tinned meats. 
 
 This liking for tinned food had astonished Jeannie, who 
 could see no reason for such an economy : she, also, learned 
 that, for aU Joe's apparent partiality for this form of diet, 
 he was comparatively extravagant where his dog, " Lassie," 
 was concerned, he always providing her with a liberal 
 supply of bones and bits from the butcher's. 
 
 " Of course he has had a doctor ? " Jeannie had remarked 
 at this stage of the landlady's information. 
 
 " Dr. Street : such a clever man. I'm always thinking 
 of sending for him myself " (here, she was diverted from 
 detailing her own ills by a glance from Jeannie). " He's 
 been twice to-day, and is coming again at six, and you'll 
 be able to hear from his own lips what he thinks." 
 
 " When was my father last conscious ? " had been 
 Jeannie's next question. 
 
 " Until jess before you came. He lay with his eyes 
 on the door a-hoping for you to come. He was sure, he 
 said, you wouldn't fail him this time." 
 
 " Is he better or worse than he has been ? " 
 
 " Much about the same, although I sat with him a 
 lot. An' when, of an evening, he started a-teUing of the 
 dorg, jess as if it was a human creature, how beautiful you 
 
246 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 was, what a lady you had become, and how you was quite 
 the wonderfullest person as ever was, I thought it time 
 to send for you, well knowing of your address, as your pa 
 had often told me of it." 
 
 Jeannie, after hearing this information, which smote 
 her heart, went upstairs to her father's room when, as she 
 went in at the door, she caught sight of a postcard that had 
 fallen under the bed. 
 
 She picked it up, to find that on it her father had scrawled 
 in pencil: 
 
 " To Jeannie, if she comes. If anythmg happens to 
 me, find a good home for Lassie. Love and God bless 
 you. — Joe." 
 
 Then, as her eye fell on the unconscious form of her 
 father, words of Mrs. Ebbage recurred to her — words that 
 insistently and eloquently told her of Joe's sufferings on 
 account of his separation from his Jeannie. 
 
 If all the landlady had said were true, and there was 
 no cause to doubt her statements, her father had taken 
 his dread illness from anxiety to receive a certain letter : 
 she could arrive at no other conclusion but that he was 
 desperately eager to hear from her. 
 
 In an access of remorse, she went to the side of the 
 bed, other than that in which lay the dog, and caressed 
 him tenderly, lovingly, in the hope that he might learn that 
 she had come. 
 
 To her consternation, although he looked hard at her, 
 there was no recognition in his eyes. 
 
 To awaken him to consciousness, she called him repeatedly 
 by name ; this proving of no avail, she, at first, gently, 
 then, almost frantically, told him who she was and, as if 
 to make good her words, she reminded him of any and 
 every remembrance of the days when she had lived with 
 him which came into her mind. 
 
 Presently, the sound of his voice gladdened her heart, 
 but only for a moment, for she at once perceived the inco- 
 herence of his utterances. 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 247 
 
 At six o'clock, when his temperature increased, he 
 rambled almost without intermission. 
 
 His chief theme was his Jeannie ; recollections of all 
 periods of her life were inextricably mixed : mingled with 
 these were odd memories of his boyhood, youth, early 
 married hfe, and of his recent doings when his only com- 
 panion had been " Lassie." 
 
 Jeannie listened intently in the hope of a return to 
 consciousness, but beyond his occasionally gazing at her 
 with eyes that held some approximation to recognition, 
 she was disappointed in her desire. 
 
 More than once, she was puzzled by references he made, 
 not only to travelling to Wicksea, but to Ethel and Jeannie's 
 boy ; she was waiting for anything that might elucidate 
 this mystery when Mrs. Ebbage announced the arrival of 
 the doctor. 
 
 At the first glance. Street was a small-featured man 
 who was by way of looking insignificant ; but when he 
 opened his mouth, voice and manner were eloquent of an 
 abiding sympathy and understanding of the mental and 
 physical iUs to which flesh is heir. 
 
 Jeannie quickly introduced herself before asking the 
 question that was inevitable under the circumstances. 
 
 " Is there any hope ? " 
 
 He did not reply, and looked so grave that, in spite of 
 herself, she was all but overcome by faintness ; to save 
 herself from a possible fall, she gripped the rail of the bed, 
 at which Street was about to support her, when she 
 said : 
 
 " It's all right. I'm not going to faiut. Tell me the 
 worst." 
 
 His first words raised her hopes. 
 
 " On the face of it, there's no reason why your father 
 should not recover. He's a fine constitution and has led 
 a regular, fairly healthy hfe." 
 
 " Then you think " 
 
 " Let me tell you everything. Your father is very 
 
248 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 seriously ill, and coiild not be any worse. What I wished 
 to say was that with a man of his habits and constitution 
 he should have every chance of recovery, whereas 
 
 now " 
 
 " Now," faltered Jeannie. 
 
 She was such a pitiful picture in her fairness and distress 
 that he was urged to soften the blow. 
 
 " It will be a hard struggle to pull him through," 
 " We must try. If I can do anything, I will do it. But 
 you must tell me what to do." 
 
 She spoke so vehemently that he was momentarily taken 
 aback. 
 
 " And there's another thing," she went on. " I want 
 to speak to him. I want him to know I'm here, and didn't 
 lose a moment in coming." 
 
 " He will know you in the morning." 
 " Not till then ? " cried Jeannie, as she gazed with an 
 immense tenderness at her father, whose babblings, if 
 anything, were more continuous than before. 
 
 " Not till then. Where there's any fever, the tempera- 
 ture is higher at night." 
 
 " But after to-night ! What can we do to get him 
 through ? " 
 
 He looked at her curiously before replying. 
 " You and I can do nothing, nor any one else for that 
 matter," he informed her. " It all depends on what fight 
 he has left." 
 
 " But you said he ought to have every chance of re- 
 covery ! " declared Jeannie, who was eager to clutch at any 
 straw that offered. 
 
 " So he shotild, but for his having had great mental 
 worry." 
 Jeannie involimtarily started. 
 " W — ^what worry ? " she forced herself to ask. 
 " That I scarcely know." 
 
 " But " 
 
 He silenced her with a gesture, and approached the 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 249 
 
 patient whom, before examining, he regarded for some 
 moments with a fine compassion. 
 
 Then he set about taking the sufferer's temperature 
 and sounding his lungs, during which operations Jeannie 
 watched the doctor's doings with straining eyes, eager to 
 learn of any s5miptom that provided the least ray of 
 hope. 
 
 When he had completed his examination, she breath- 
 lessly waited for him to speak. 
 
 " If you win give me a piece of paper, I will write down 
 the treatment that you must follow through the night, 
 that is if you sit up with him." 
 
 " Of course I will." 
 
 " That is what I expected. If you did not, you 
 would have to have a nurse, as he must never be 
 left. In any case, you must have a nurse to-morrow 
 if " 
 
 " If ! " exclaimed Jeannie, as the doctor hesitated. 
 
 " If you should want a rest." 
 
 Jeannie listened with all her ears to the doctor's instruc- 
 tions ; she, also, repeatedly questioned him with regard to 
 these ; she did not wish to run any risk of making the 
 least mistake. 
 
 Then, as he did not offer any opinion of her father's 
 condition, she knew an acute sinking of spirit : she was 
 gathering her courage to ask the question her lips feared 
 to put when Street said almost casually : 
 
 " You're his only child ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Fond of you, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " Been married long ? " 
 
 " Nearly two years." 
 
 " Seen much of your father since ? " 
 
 " N— no." 
 
 " Any children ? " 
 
 " One ; a boy : he's nearly five months old." 
 
250 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Perhaps your father worried a bit at being separated 
 from you ! " 
 
 " Perhaps. But you see he lived in town and I in the 
 country." 
 
 " Indeed ; always ? " 
 
 " Latterly. Before we lived at Ken — Hammer- 
 smith." 
 
 " Putney is not far from Hammersmith ! " 
 
 " Not very. But it's awkward getting back to Putney 
 late at night," faltered Jeannie. 
 
 Suspecting the doctor to have knowledge of her neglect- 
 ful behaviour to Joe, she entered upon a confused explana- 
 tion of how she had not seen so much of her father as 
 she might have done, when she was interrupted by Street, 
 who said: 
 
 " Send for me if I'm wanted in the night. I can do 
 nothing, but I'll gladly come." 
 
 His words gave her something of a shock, from which 
 she had scarcely recovered when she perceived that the 
 doctor had left the room. 
 
 Her first impulse was to foUow him and question him 
 further : she refrained, chiefly because she wished to 
 atone for her shortcomings to her father by not leaving 
 his bedside for a moment ; also, she feared to hear further 
 confirmation of her fears from the doctor's lips. 
 
 Alone with Joe and the rapidly drawing-in night, she 
 concentrated her mind on carrying out to the letter the 
 doctor's instructions : she fuUy realised how the giving 
 of food and stimulant at the prescribed times could do little 
 to deflect the course of the illness, but in order not to 
 lose a fighting chance, she meticulously made her prepara- 
 tions : as a preliminary, she put coals on the fire and 
 remade the bed as far as this was possible without disturb- 
 ing the patient. 
 
 It was ill turning the pillow that she found the telegram, 
 and the last letter she had sent her father ; also, the leaf from 
 the " ABC " giving the Wicksea trains, which discoveries 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 251 
 
 stimulated, if it were possible, the immense remorse she 
 knew. 
 
 As the time passed, it seemed to Jeannie that her hus- 
 band, child, and home interests were fading from her hfe : 
 that Joe and she were, as in the old days, everything to 
 each other ; that so long as all was well with them, nothing 
 ahen to their interests was of the least consequence. 
 
 Now that he was in his present extremity, it followed 
 that her world was threatened with complete destruction, 
 a catastrophe that might possibly be averted by her efforts. 
 
 There were intervals between the occasions he required 
 attention ; during these, she either pillowed her father's 
 white head on her heart or caressed him with a wealth 
 of endearing words which, could he have appreciated 
 them, would have done much to atone for the many months 
 of pain he had suffered on her account. 
 
 Although, as the hours passed, his delirium increased, 
 she, for all that the doctor had told her that he would not 
 recover consciousness tiU the morning, did not lose hope 
 that he might any moment awaken to the fact of her 
 presence. 
 
 Now and again, she would fall on her knees and pray 
 fervently, passionately for her father's recovery. 
 
 She had been brought up devoutly; and had had an 
 average amount of faith ; since, however, she had married 
 Edgar, she had imbibed much of his laxity concerning 
 religious observances. 
 
 Such being the case, she had a momentary disinclination 
 to invoke Divine assistance, but at remembering the indid- 
 gence granted to the one sinner that repented, she no 
 longer hesitated. 
 
 When it became too dark to see, she forbore to have the 
 lamp, she preferring the firelight, tiQ she perceived it had 
 the effect of contrasting Joe's hair with the darkness about 
 him, and in so doing emphasised its whiteness. 
 
 This appealing witness of her long neglect caused a 
 tugging at her heartstrings. 
 
252 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 In order to save herself pain, and render her more 
 competent for her vigil, she lit the lamp. 
 
 This done, she perceived her father had fallen into a 
 profound sleep : fearing to disturb this, she sat mouse 
 still when, beyond his fairly regular breathing, all she heard 
 was the insistent ticking of the clock. 
 
 To distract her troubled mind, she attempted, first to 
 fondle, then to feed " Lassie," her father's faithful friend. 
 But " Lassie " would have none of these things ; Joe's 
 hold having relaxed from her paw, she was now persistently 
 licking his hand, and nothing Jeannie did could divert 
 her mind from this preoccupation. 
 
 Then, the solemn tick of the grandfather impinged on 
 her thoughts and claimed her attention. 
 
 To this, Joe had often told her he had listened while 
 waiting to hear the news of her birth. 
 
 That was then. 
 
 Now, his little one had grown into a tall woman who 
 had loved and had a baby of her own, while the once 
 expectant father was unconsciously walking the dim 
 borderland which lay on the confines of the life he had 
 known and loved. 
 
 As a little girl, she had constantly asked the clock, 
 " Why do you go on ticking ? " 
 
 These childish questionings recurred to her as she 
 reflected how then, and before she was born, and now, 
 during her father's tussle with death, the clock ticked with 
 a fine detachment from the concerns of life ; it was as if 
 its business of measuring the resistless march of time 
 made it loftily indifferent to anything that might be 
 toward. 
 
 This unconcern suggested to Jeannie the comparative 
 insignificance of human endeavour, hopes and fears, even 
 of love and life, inasmuch as a little sooner or a little later 
 it must lead to a struggle akin to that which was taking 
 place under her eyes. 
 
 She put the insinuation from her mind as, in insisting 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 253 
 
 on the littleness of her emotions, in common with every one 
 else's, it lessened and made seem of no account the remorse 
 that now was hers ; her anguish at her father's extremity 
 to which she could do so little to alleviate. 
 
 Instead, she concentrated her thoughts upon her father 
 and eagerly awaited the termination of his sleep in the 
 hope that rest would assist him to consciousness. 
 
 Presently, he stirred uneasily, at which Jeannie believed 
 the longed-for moment had arrived ; she knew an infinite 
 suspense until Joe should open his eyes. 
 
 When this occiured, she was grievously disappointed, 
 he continually staring at her, but not in the least recog- 
 nising her. 
 
 She appealed to him as before, but aU she got for her 
 pains were references to his struggling at the pit door of 
 a theatre ; a little later, she heard him chuckling at the 
 stage jokes, while now and again he would praise the 
 actors. 
 
 "Bravo! Splendid! Ha-ah ! That's a good 'un," 
 he cried. 
 
 " Sic transit gloria mundi — going to Boulogne ! You'U 
 be sick in transit if you go on a Monday. Ha-ah ! " 
 
 Then, he fell to repeating the refrain of a song that 
 was popular in his young days. 
 
 " With my too-roo-ral, too-roo-ral, too-roo-ral day." 
 
 The contrast between this pleasurable reminiscence of 
 his youth and his present condition touched Jeannie to the 
 quick ; she was watching the sufferer with wet eyes when 
 Mrs. Ebbage entered, after knocking at the door. 
 
 The landlady, for aU her affectations of ill-health, was 
 not a bad sort at heart : she was well disposed to Joe by 
 reason of his having made such a long stay and paid 
 her with unfailing punctuality : besides wishing to know 
 what Jeannie should want for her night's vigQ, she had 
 brought her up some supper on a tray. 
 
 After Jeannie had ordered what she required, Mrs. 
 Ebbage looked compassionately at the patient as she said ; 
 
254 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " He's even worse than I am." Then, conscious of 
 immediate antagonism on Jeannie's part, she went on : 
 " You've said nothing about coals, ma'am, which you'll 
 be wanting in the night to keep your two selves warm. 
 It's turned quite cold." 
 
 This mention of the weather awoke an immediate 
 response in Joe's disordered mind. 
 
 Hardly were the words out of Mrs. Ebbage's mouth, 
 when he raised himself on his elbows and said : 
 
 " Wind's veered round to the east : forecast for to- 
 morrow — cold with occasional gusts ; frequent sleet 
 showers as the day wears." 
 
 " He was always a willing gentleman for a-telling of the 
 weather," was the landlady's comment, as she took herself 
 from the room. 
 
 Encouraged by Joe's approximation to sanity, Jeannie 
 made a further and a desperate effort to awaken him to 
 the fact of her presence but, as if his meteorological fore- 
 cast had exhausted his mental strength, he relapsed into 
 insensibility. 
 
 When coal and one or two other things had been brought 
 up to the sick-room, Jeannie ate a morsel of supper and 
 made her preparations for the night. 
 
 She had come in the smart frock she had got ready for 
 the luncheon-party, there being no time to change if she 
 had wished to catch the next train to town : not knowing 
 how long it would be before she would be able to afford 
 another such a dress, she took it off and put it carefully 
 away before getting into a dressing-gown she had brought 
 with her. 
 
 As she was doing this, she fancied that Joe shivered ; 
 she was about to put more clothing on the bed, when an 
 idea occurred to her by which she could make a trifling 
 atonement to her father : she caught up her smart bodice 
 and skirt, and wrapped them very tenderly about his 
 shoulders. 
 
 Next, she attended to the fire, and after making other 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 25S 
 
 preparations, she, feeling desperately tired, took her place 
 at the bedside. 
 
 Joe had become slightly less delirious, intervals of 
 silence alternating with periods of hallucination, but when- 
 ever he spoke, she listened intently in the hope of his 
 recovering his understanding. 
 
 Once or twice a sane remark would cause her heart to 
 beat ; although she quickly repUed to this or asked Joe 
 if he recognised her, she quickly learned that his mind 
 was ever wandering. 
 
 For instance, when at something after twelve, the 
 ticking of the clock seemed more and more insistent, he 
 suddenly surprised Jeannie by laying a hand upon her arm 
 before saying : 
 
 " Hear the clock ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " Tick, tick, tick, tick." 
 
 " Don't you know me, Joe ? " cried Jeannie desperately, 
 but although his eyes sought hers, he continued as 
 before : 
 
 " He's a friend is that grandfather. Night after night 
 I've listened to him while waiting for my Jeannie." Then, 
 after a pause : " But she never came ; she never, never 
 came." 
 
 This last was spoken with such an infinite sadness that 
 Jeannie appealed for forgiveness ; but all he replied was : 
 
 " Can't Coop laugh ? " 
 
 As the time dragged on, he became more restless, and 
 a little later he called " Emily " repeatedly ; it was the 
 name of a servant who had worked at " Laurel " Villa when 
 Jeannie was a little girl. 
 
 " Where is my little sweetheart ? " he asked. " Out by 
 herself, and with no one to look after her ? Where do 
 you say she has gone ? Down the road ! How can you 
 let her go by herself ? Ah, here she is ! All happiness 
 and laughter, and with a kiss for her Joe. Here's my little 
 sweetheart ! " 
 
256 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 He became silent, while big tears rolled from Jeannie's 
 eyes. 
 
 So much had happened during the preceding hours, and 
 she had suffered so keenly, that about one she felt she 
 was being overcome by drowsiness ; in order to keep 
 herself awake, she made and drank a strong cup of tea ; 
 fearing this might prove of no avail, she again made up the 
 fire and poured out brandy ready to hand in case Joe 
 might require it at a moment's notice. 
 
 Scarcely had she done these things, when she leaned 
 forward on the bed and fell asleep. 
 
 As she slept, it was as if she were living the days of 
 her childhood over again, days which were illumined by 
 Joe's love and devotion. 
 
 After awhile, it seemed that she had fallen asleep before 
 going to bed, at the which her father kissed her very 
 tenderly before wrapping something about her in order 
 to keep her warm. This accomplished, he held her gently 
 in his arms with his heart pressed against her body, but 
 fearing he might rouse her, he loosened his hold and watched 
 beside her. 
 
 She awoke with a start, when she perceived that the 
 smart skirt she had wrapped about Joe was carefully 
 arranged on her shoulders. 
 
 She wondered how this could have happened, till it 
 occurred to her that her dream was a reality ; that Joe had 
 recovered consciousness when she was asleep and, ill as 
 he was, had, as of old, seen to her comfort. 
 
 As if to confirm this belief, the tumbler had been emptied 
 of the brandy she had poured out. 
 
 Profoundly touched by his loving solicitude, deeply 
 thankful he had learned she was with him, she was yet 
 chagrined he had found her asleep. 
 
 To implore his forgiveness for this weakness, and for 
 the many other things in which she had been wanting, she 
 turned quickly to see if he were still aware of her presence. 
 He was lying quite stiU, while " Lassie " was piteously 
 
JOE'S LAST ANECDOTE 257 
 
 regarding Jeannie, and now and again uttering a little 
 cry. 
 
 She spoke, but Joe did not answer ; she kissed his lined 
 forehead, at which he quickly opened his eyes and said : 
 
 " Jeannie ! " 
 
 " Yes, my dearest ! " 
 
 " You've not been weU. But I'm thankful to say you're 
 better now, and I'll cheer you by teUing you a story." 
 
 " Don't you know me ? Won't you ever know me ? " 
 she cried desperately. 
 
 Seemingly indifferent to her agony of mind, Joe con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " A Mr. Kenny once had a dinner party, when the 
 butler, in opening the sherry, left some of the cork ia the 
 bottle. Mr. Kenny, in drinking the wine, got a piece of 
 cork in his throat, at which one of the guests remarked " 
 
 He stopped short, and with such a plaintive appeal in 
 his eyes that Jeannie, in spite of her griefs, was moved 
 to prompt him, as in the old days. 
 
 " ' That's not the way for Cork,' " she murmured. 
 
 Joe immediately continued. 
 
 " ' That's not the way for Cork.' ' No, that's not the 
 way for Cork,' declared another. ' It's the way to Kill 
 Kenny ! ' " 
 
 His eyes smiled with all the old innocent enjoyment 
 into hers, but even as she looked, a swift and sudden 
 change possessed him. 
 
 A few moments later, she was striving to realise that 
 Joe would never again tell his story in this world, whatever 
 he might do in the next. 
 
 17 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A STRANGE WOMAN 
 
 Jeannie, in deep mourning, stood beside Joe's wreath- 
 covered resting-place the day after he was buried. 
 
 She had gone to the church, but had not felt equal to 
 following his body to the grave ; in order that her thoughts 
 should not suffer distraction, she had come alone to make 
 pilgrimage to where Joe slept so soundly. 
 
 Ever since he had passed away in the small hours of the 
 morning, Jeannie had been willing, if not eager, to suffer, 
 in order to make some atonement to his memory ; her 
 inability to realise that he was no more prevented this 
 expiation. 
 
 As she stood with bowed head, she made a further 
 effort to appreciate her loss by recalling typical instances 
 of Joe's tenderness and loving-kindness ; although, in 
 dwelling on those she selected from the storehouse of her 
 memory, her under lip trembled and tears fell from her 
 eyes, her heart, as yet, was innocent of suffering ; aU she 
 was conscious of was a vague feeling of discomfort. 
 
 Inexperienced as she was in the mental and physical 
 processes of an unexpected supreme sorrow, she wondered 
 at her comparative freedom from pain : to divert her 
 thoughts from a disquieting suspicion that she was incapable 
 of deep feeling, she fell to examining the cards attached 
 to the now crushed-looking wreaths at her feet. 
 
 The names of Coop and Reuben Baverstock caught her 
 eyes, while upon another was written : " From old friends 
 and colleagues in token of loving respect." 
 
 Although there were other tributes, including a wreath 
 
 258 
 
A STRANGE WOMAN 259 
 
 and a cross from Edgar and herself, and a bunch of daffodils 
 from Ethel, the evidence that he was liked and respected 
 by those with whom he had worked for so long, went to 
 her heart and enabled her to appreciate in some measure 
 her loss ; this regard on the part of his fellow-clerks made 
 more impression upon her than it would at any other time, 
 inasmuch as the intrusion of the Great Destroyer made 
 seem of no account the social distinctions on which she 
 ordinarily set store. 
 
 Then there came unbidden to her mind a picture of Joe 
 as she remembered him when she was a little girl, and as 
 he appeared when on one of their botanising excursions on 
 a Saturday afternoon ; his honest, kindly face was alight 
 with happiness at being in the fresh air, and with his 
 Jeannie. 
 
 Loving nature as he did, she looked about her to see if 
 his surroundings were at all akin to his country instincts, 
 and was gratified at perceiving that the headstones and 
 mounds were, so far, the merest settlement of death in 
 the green expanse of cemetery. 
 
 Beyond the trees that bordered the enclosure were 
 dark masses of clouds which were in keeping with her 
 dolorous emotions, but, even as she looked, these were 
 being pierced and dominated by the March sunUght. 
 
 She found herself responding to the sun's warmth, at 
 which she blamed herself for such an indulgence under the 
 circumstances, and attuned her mind to her griefs. 
 
 This soon became increasingly difficult, the insistent 
 sun recalling to her mind the interests and preoccupations 
 of her life ; of these last she had already more than 
 enough. 
 
 Edgar, Ethel, and the little one had arrived from Wicksea 
 during the day on which Joe had passed away, when 
 Edgar had told to a dazed Jeannie that Pightle was looking 
 after the farm in his absence ; he, also, dropped a hint 
 to the effect that, in face of their local financial liabilities, 
 it might be inadvisable to return to " Larkslease." 
 
26o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 While Edgar had sympathised with Jeannie in her 
 sorrow, it had been obvious to her that he was greatly 
 worried by his difficulties, he not knowing how he was 
 going to provide a home for wife and child. 
 
 He was staying at " Pyracantha," but although Jeannie 
 had been welcomed and condoled with, and had taken 
 most of her nieals there, she had refused to sleep under 
 any other roof than that which sheltered her father's 
 body. 
 
 She had resolved to postpone the consideration of her 
 own and husband's troubles for some days after her father 
 had been laid to his last rest, but the ever - increasing 
 brilliance of the sunlight reminded her of the difficulties 
 with which she was confronted. 
 
 Two days after Edgar had arrived from Wicksea, a letter 
 addressed in an unfamiliar handwriting had been for- 
 warded by Pightle. 
 
 It proved to be from King, Pightle's taciturn uncle 
 by marriage, whose lack of conversation had troubled 
 the owners of " Larkslease " on the occasion of his 
 visit. 
 
 King wrote to say that, hearing from his nephew Edgar 
 was in want of a billet, he was prepared either to employ 
 him as his confidential secretary at his London offices or 
 to engage him to take charge of his rapidly growing 
 interests in Johannesburg, providing he could furnish 
 satisfactory references. 
 
 On the face of it, there seemed every prospect of Edgar 
 being put well on his feet by the opportune arrival of these 
 offers which, to some extent, had lightened Jeannie's 
 load of sorrow. Edgar had quite made up his mind 
 that the London employment was his, when a long 
 letter from Pightle put a different complexion on the 
 matter. 
 
 It appeared from this that King was very punctilious 
 where those he employed were concerned, he only engaging 
 those in whom he reposed implicit faith ; Pightle warned 
 
A STRANGE "WOMAN 261 
 
 Edgar that King was shortly returning to Wicksea, when 
 he proposed inquiring into Edgar's financial antecedents 
 and present liabilities if any ; should these investigations 
 prove satisfactory, " the job, and a well-paid one too, was 
 a dead cert," as Pightle phrased it. 
 
 Thus it seemed that fate was bent on tantalising the 
 young couple ; considering how deeply Edgar Wcis in debt 
 in and about Wicksea, also how " Larkslease " was mort- 
 gaged up to the hilt, he had characteristically despaired, 
 until he bethought him of asking his father to lend him the 
 necessary money. 
 
 He confided this idea to Jeannie, at the same time telling 
 her he required twelve hundred pounds. 
 
 For her part, so feir as she could give the matter thought, 
 it seemed that the reception she had received at " Pjra- 
 cantha " augured well for his hopes of assistance. 
 
 Reuben, his sweet wife, and Mabel (BeviU scarcely 
 counted), while sjnnpathising with Jeannie, all seemed 
 to lose their heads over her boy, indeed, her heart softened 
 to the money-grabbing Reuben, whom, in her heart, she 
 always called " Count Fosco," at his unconcealed joy and 
 pride in his grandson. 
 
 The fact of the matter was that BeviU, being a muff, 
 would be unlikely to persuade a sprightly girl to marry 
 him, and Mabel not attracting men, Reuben Baverstock's 
 family hopes and pride, of which he had no imcommon 
 share, were now centred on his son's fine boy ; although 
 he never sought to disguise from himseK his chagrin at the 
 improvident marriage Edgar had made, he could not deny 
 that Jeannie, for all her worldly disadvantages, was a 
 remarkable looking young woman, who, after aU said and 
 done, had been a good wife to Edgar. 
 
 Jeannie, also, knew that her mother-in-law, who was 
 looking more frsigile than ever, if that were possible, would 
 warmly second Edgar's request for money. 
 
 On the evening on which Jeannie was taking a last look 
 at her sleeping boy before returning to the room she had 
 
262 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 engaged at Mrs. Ebbage's, Mrs. Baverstock had joined 
 her ; after tenderly regarding her grandson, she had 
 approached her beautiful daughter-in-law and, without 
 saying a word, had taken and held Jeannie in her arms 
 for quite a long time. 
 
 Before Jeannie had set out for the cemetery, Edgar had 
 told her of the dismal result of his momentous interview 
 with his father. 
 
 Although Reuben had the best will in the world to assist 
 his son, this was impossible just now, he being in financial 
 low water owing to a protracted run of ill-luck ; he could 
 make no suggestion to Edgar as to where the latter could 
 obtain what he needed. 
 
 When the latter had asked his father if there were any 
 objection to his approaching either Turk or Creadle, his 
 partners, on the matter, Reuben had begged Edgar to 
 do nothing of the kind, inasmuch as he was not on good 
 terms with conceited Creadle, who, suspecting the senior 
 partner's losses, had been attempting to sow discord 
 between Turk and himself. 
 
 Thus, in addition to grievous loss, so far as Jeannie 
 was concerned, misfortune dogged the steps of her husband 
 and herself. 
 
 After a while, the difficulties with which Jeannie was 
 confronted so possessed her mind that she deemed it in 
 the nature of a sacrilege to indulge such mundane thoughts 
 beside Joe's resting-place ; before taking a farewell look 
 of the wreath - covered mound, she selected one of 
 the freshest - looking of the flowers and, after pressing 
 this to her lips, she took it away with her in her 
 purse. 
 
 She was due at " P3n:acantha " for luncheon, but before 
 taking her heavy heart thither she had resolved to visit 
 Mrs. Ebbage's to see to some papers that had belonged 
 to her father, other than those business documents Edgar 
 was to look into during the morning. 
 
 Outside of the house where Joe had lodged, Jeannie 
 
A STRANGE WOMAN 263 
 
 found a troubled-looking Ethel ; her first thought was 
 that something was amiss with the child, but upon being 
 reassured on this point, and being, also, told that Mabel 
 was looking after him, she asked Ethel what had brought 
 her there. 
 
 " I had to come and tell you, ma'am. I couldn't help 
 it." 
 
 " TeU me what ? " 
 
 Ethel commenced to weep ; it was after Jeannie had 
 lent the girl a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes 
 that she said : 
 
 " Mr. Joe, your father, ma'am ! " 
 
 Jeannie bit her Ups ; Ethel continued : 
 
 " Of Sundays he used to meet me near the station be- 
 cause he wanted to see the baby." 
 
 Jeannie looked at the girl in wide-eyed amazement. 
 
 " That's the truth, ma'am, if I never speak another word. 
 He stopped and arst me who the baby belonged to, an' 
 when I said it was yours he give me a sovereign and 
 tells me not to tell you. And that proud he was 
 of " 
 
 An access of tears interrupted the girl's narrative, while 
 Jeannie, whose heart was too full to give Ethel the assur- 
 ances she needed, left her to knock at Mrs. Ebbage's 
 door. 
 
 Joe's room, which was still much as it was when he had 
 lived in it; looked strangely desolate when she entered it 
 after acquainting Mrs. Ebbage with her arrival ; its intense 
 stillness was so insistent, and she was so distressed at Ethel's 
 communication, that she hurriedly set about securing 
 the papers she had come to obtain. 
 
 Even then, she more than once desisted from her work, 
 for it seemed that, for all the tomb-like silence, Joe's per- 
 sonality still informed the room ; that this stiU held the 
 echoes of his rare laughter, his many sighs. 
 
 When she hastened downstairs, she found Mrs. Ebbage 
 wearily attempting to feed " Lassie," attempting, as 
 
264 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 since her friend had passed away, the dog had been well 
 nigh inconsolable. 
 
 The animal's extremity went to Jeannie's heart ; she 
 made up her mind to take her back to " Pyracantha " 
 in the face of the Baverstocks' possible disapproval. 
 
 Soon after she had entered Mrs. Ebbage's parlour, her 
 late father's landlady, doubtless in order to propitiate a 
 relation of one of the leading Putney families, commenced 
 to relate the thousand and one things she had done in order 
 to contribute to Joe's comfort. 
 
 Jeannie was not ill-disposed to listen to these confidences ; 
 the fact of her father having been well looked after, the 
 possibility of his having enjoyed a certain measure of happi- 
 ness tending to lessen her remorse for her undutiful be- 
 haviour. 
 
 Presently, when Mrs. Ebbage showed an inclination to 
 drag her own ills into her narrative, Jeannie asked : 
 
 " I suppose my father didn't drop all his old 
 friends ? " 
 
 " None ever came here, so far as I remember." 
 
 " Not one ? " 
 
 " I should have known if they had, particularly of an 
 evening. The girl is often out doing a bit of shopping, 
 and it's such an effort for one, who is almost an invalid, 
 as you might say, to drag herself up and down them 
 thirteen stairs to answer the door. That, more than any- 
 thing else, tells me I shall never make old bones." 
 
 " I should have thought a Mr. Coop would have come," 
 persisted Jeannie. 
 
 " I should have known it if he had. Mr. Joe was a 
 gentleman who kept himself to himself, though he was 
 fond of a gossip with me, and was always sorry to hear I 
 was so bad. And to think of his being taken first and me 
 left ! " 
 
 " Surely he went out to visit friends sometimes ? " 
 
 " Twice a week reg'lar, unless he was put off." 
 
 " Ah ! Do you know who it was ? " 
 
A STRANGE WOMAN 265 
 
 " A lady friend of his." 
 
 " A what ? " cried Jeannie, in astonishment. 
 
 " A lady friend of his. Mondays and Fridays he used 
 to go, unless, as I tell you, he were put off." 
 
 " But — but my father had no lady friends." 
 
 " This was a lady as lived in Mansion House Street, 
 Hammersmith. I know, because he used to leave her 
 letters about," declared Mrs. Ebbage ; then, as she became 
 aware of the offence to which she had admitted, she 
 reddened, as she added : 
 
 " He used to leave her letters lying about just as if it 
 was the paper bill." 
 
 This last piece of information lessened Jeannie's appre- 
 hensions, till she reflected that the landlady was probably 
 telling an untruth in order to shield herself from her 
 (Jeannie's) censure at her misdemeanour. 
 
 " What was her name ? " 
 
 " Miss Hacker — Amelia Hacker." 
 
 " But— but " faltered Jeannie. 
 
 " I'm sure he wasn't the gentleman to do anything of 
 which you would disapprove," declared Mrs. Ebbage, 
 hastening to reassure Jeannie on a matter on which the 
 elder woman had divined the drift of the other's thoughts. 
 
 Jeannie preserved silence ; Mrs. Ebbage, to divert 
 attention from her unfortunate admission, clumsily changed 
 the subject to Joe's passion for economy. 
 
 Although Jeannie was deeply interested in anything 
 that concerned her father, she scarcely listened : so far as 
 the shock she had received would permit, she Wcis en- 
 deavoming to assimilate the landlady's information. 
 
 If her worst suspicions were true, she could not blame 
 her father ; at the same time, she told herself, her neglect 
 had been a contributive cause to his acquaintance with 
 the mysterious Miss Hacker. 
 
 The next moment, she was ashamed of herself for harbour- 
 ing such base thoughts concerning him, such conduct 
 being altogether aHen to his nature, 
 
266 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 She was passionately convinced that he was innocent of 
 the more worldly construction that might be imputed to 
 these visits, and if only to justify his reputation, and punish 
 herself for her unworthy surmise, she resolved to see Miss 
 Hacker on that afternoon. 
 
 But for all Jeannie's resolve, her intention was indefinitely 
 postponed. 
 
 Mrs. Ebbage's reminiscences were interrupted by the 
 sound of a hansom stopping outside her house, which, in a 
 very few moments, was followed by a violent knocking on 
 the front door. 
 
 While Jeannie wondered what was toward, Mrs. Ebbage 
 floundered up the stairs, to call down directly she had 
 opened the door : 
 
 " Please, come at once ; you're wanted." 
 
 Jeannie, with heart abeat, flew up the stairs to find a 
 breathless Mabel Baverstock in the hall. 
 
 " You must come at once ! " cried the latter, directly 
 she caught sight of Jeannie. 
 
 "The baby?" 
 
 " Edgar. I am thankful I found you." 
 
 " What's happened ? " 
 
 " He's ill ; you must come now." 
 
 " Serious ? " asked a white-faced, heart-sick Jeannie, 
 as she bundled herself into the waiting hansom. 
 
 " I don't think so. We'll know more when we get 
 back. The doctor, mother sent for, is with him 
 now." 
 
 As they were rapidly driven in the direction of " Pyra- 
 cantha," a greatly agitated Jeannie learned that Edgar, 
 in going through her father's business papers, discovered 
 that Joe had left savings that amounted to an unexpectedly 
 considerable amount ; that these, with his life insurance 
 money, were at Jeannie's absolute disposal ; that the 
 shock of suddenly learning there was a means of evading 
 effectually his financial embarrassments had apparently 
 brought on a series of prolonged fainting attacks which 
 
A STRANGE WOMAN 267 
 
 had so alarmed every one in the house that Jeannie and the 
 doctor had been sent for. 
 
 Although Mabel was sure that these betokened nothing 
 really serious, Jeannie, who knew too well how iU her 
 husband had been looking for months, had the gravest 
 misgivings on the matter. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 
 
 J E ANNIE glanced at the grandfather clock to see that 
 she would have exactly twenty-four hours longer with her 
 husband before he left her side on his long journey to 
 Johannesburg. 
 
 So far as she could get anything out of the doctors who 
 examined him, she learned he was suffering from acute 
 nervous breakdown, the culmination of many months of 
 worry ; it was hoped that the voyage to the Cape would do 
 much to set him on his feet. 
 
 At present, he was afflicted with violent headaches ; 
 these were often accompanied by attacks of melancholia. 
 
 Jeannie was apprehensive that other complications 
 were feared, as the doctors particularly urged Edgar to 
 avoid catching cold, besides telling him to be as much 
 as possible in the air. 
 
 She had again and again asked them if her husband were 
 well enough to work in London, but always received the 
 same reply which was to the effect that change and sea air 
 were essential to his recovery. 
 
 Since it was unlikely that he would again get such good 
 offers as King's, Edgar, after endless discussions with 
 Jeannie, had decided to accept the one that would take 
 him to South Africa, where he would take charge of his 
 employer's interests in that part of the world ; it was, 
 also, arranged she was to join him later on, when he had 
 time to look round and see how far the place was suited 
 to wife and child. 
 
 For all the probability of some day joining Edgar, 
 
EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 269 
 
 Jeannie was almost beside herself with grief at losing him 
 so soon after Joe had passed away ; at the circumstances 
 in which he was leaving her ; with apprehensions of 
 what might befall him in a distant, misettled country. 
 
 When Edgar had gone into Joe's affairs he had been 
 astonished to find that the sum due from the Gsmpany 
 in which he had insured his life, his savings, and the pro- 
 ceeds of the sale of " Laurel " ViUa amounted to well over 
 two thousand poimds. 
 
 It was the shock occasioned by this discovery which had 
 brought his nervous disorder to a cUmax. 
 
 The amount Joe had contrived to put by out of his 
 small salary explained to Jeaimie the economies he had 
 practised when at Mrs. Ebbage's ; it was this passion for 
 saving, she told herself, in order that she might some 
 day benefit, which had shortened his days. 
 
 The anguish of mind to which this realisation, if nothing 
 further tm.toward had happened, would have given rise, 
 was discounted by her grief at losing Edgar ; his imminent 
 departure possessed her thoughts to the exclusion of every- 
 thing else. 
 
 Her distress kept her awake at night, while during the 
 day she could not bear her husband out of her sight, she 
 grudging the moments they spent apart. 
 
 Although the mortgage on " Larkslease " had been 
 discharged with some of the money her father had left, 
 she could not bear the thought of living there during her 
 husband's absence, the place being intimately identified 
 with Edgar ; in order that she might have a home of her 
 own, " Larkslease," together with the stock, had been 
 disposed of for what they woidd fetch, and a little house 
 had been taken at Richmond ; this was ia a tiny road 
 which at one end had an entrance into the Park. 
 
 This had been quickly got ready for occupation with 
 the best of the things from the old Wicksea home ; the 
 grandfather clock and other pieces of fumitmre which had 
 belonged to Joe. 
 
270 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Jeannie was eager to have her new house made ready 
 with all dispatch ; she wished Edgar to Uve and have his 
 being within its walls for as long as possible before he 
 left, so that her home should be instinct with her husband's 
 atmosphere. 
 
 " Lassie," to whom Jeannie was now greatly attached, 
 was a member of the household. 
 
 When not in the grip of depression, Edgar's behaviour 
 did much to weight Jeannie's load of sorrow, he now being, 
 ardently, demonstratively in love with her, his normal 
 affection being stimulated by their approaching separation ; 
 also; perhaps, by her changed appearance ; with regard 
 to this last, it seemed that the fact of being responsible 
 for bringing a new life into the world, together with her 
 manifold griefs, had chastened her somewhat showy 
 beauty; with the result that, while she had lost much of her 
 girlish attractiveness, she had acquired in its stead a 
 pathetic dignity which made an irresistible appeal to her 
 husband. 
 
 Incidents of emotional, almost hysterical, despair were 
 common to both ; these alternated, so far as Jeaimie was 
 concerned, with intervals of mental dullness; when, although 
 she fully appreciated what was toward, she was incapable 
 of further suffering. 
 
 Edgar was to leave the house for the docks at eight 
 o'clock on the following morning ; his boxes had been 
 lovingly packed by his wife; corded and addressed in a 
 sudden access of energy by Pightle, who was genuinely 
 distressed at his friend's departure, and sent to the ship 
 in order that the last hours husband and wife had together 
 should be free from distraction. 
 
 Jeannie, as has been said, glanced at the grandfather 
 clock, which, with its serene indifference to the concerns 
 of life, was relentlessly ticking away her remaining moments 
 with the man she adored, and even as she looked, her 
 precious twenty-four hours had been diminished by golden 
 seconds. 
 
EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 271 
 
 Then Edgar entered the room, and taking Jeannie in his 
 arms, tenderly kissed her ; even as he did so, she noticed 
 that he glanced at the clock, when she believed he was 
 possessed by the same thought as herself, for his grip 
 tightened on her body while his eyes looked helplessly 
 into hers. 
 
 When they sat down to breakfast, they both made a 
 fine pretence of eating ; Jeannie thought that every mouth- 
 ful she forced herself to take would choke her. 
 
 Presently she put down her knife and fork ; to divert 
 attention from her distress, she attempted to talk casually, 
 light-heartedly, at which dismay invaded Edgar's face. 
 
 " Dearest ! " she cried apprehensively. 
 
 " Don't you mind I'm going ? " he asked hoarsely. 
 
 " Mind ! " she echoed, but with a catch in her voice which 
 told him how he had misread her. 
 
 " Forgive me ; forgive me, little Jeannie ! " he pleaded, 
 as he rose from his chair. " I ought to have known." 
 
 She restrained an inclination to tears, and ardently 
 returned his caress. 
 
 All idea of continuing the meal being abandoned, they 
 left the table, Edgar lighting a cigarette. 
 
 He smoked for some moments in silence, Jeannie watch- 
 ing him out of the corners of her eyes, when she perceived 
 that he had let his cigarette go out and was staring moodily 
 before him. 
 
 Fearing he was about to be attacked by the depression 
 to which he was subject, she asked : 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " 
 
 " You," he replied passionately. " You ! You ! " 
 
 " Me ? " 
 
 " My beautiful, golden - haired Jeannie ! How do I 
 know she won't forget me when I'm gone ? " 
 
 " Edgar ! " she faltered. 
 
 " You're angry now, but it may be another matter when 
 you're lonely and have no one to talk to." 
 
 She looked at him with an immense reproach when. 
 
272 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 as if conscious of the unfairness of his words, he averted 
 his eyes as he went on : 
 
 " And you will be tempted by men who will make love 
 to you ; it is only natural. That will worry me more 
 than I can say." 
 
 She was minded to protest angrily against his cruel 
 words which cut her like a whip, but, upon seeing how 
 abjectly miserable he was, she went to him and, kneeling 
 beside him, said : 
 
 " If you knew how I loved you, you would not say that ! 
 If you knew how I suffered at losing you, you would never, 
 never doubt me ! " 
 
 Her words, the conviction in her voice and manner, made 
 an irresistible appeal to his heart ; possessed by sudden 
 remorse, he overwhelmed her with tendernesses, while he 
 bitterly cursed himself, until she covered his mouth with 
 her hand. 
 
 This emotional storm was succeeded by a calm which, 
 in view of what was to be, was not without an element 
 of beauty ; they spoke serenely, almost dispassionately 
 of the days when they would be united, and with a love 
 that would be tested and strengthened by their separation. 
 
 There had been talk of paying a farewell visit to the 
 house in Elm Grove, which had been their first home, but 
 at Jeannie's request this excursion was abandoned ; she 
 preferred to spend the quietest of days with her husband ; 
 to obtain her desire, she had persistently refused invita- 
 tions to stay at " Pjnracantha," where Edgar's relations 
 beheved their thoughts would be distracted from their 
 parting by those about them. 
 
 The day being fine and warm, they sat in the garden 
 for the best part of the morning, when, for all that either 
 of them said, they each took secret cognisance of the 
 passing of the hours. 
 
 At the same time, the vague terror which they knew 
 was not, so far as Jeannie was concerned, without a redeem- 
 ing sweetness. 
 
EDGAR LEAVES JE ANNIE 273 
 
 She had always dreaded the last day they should be 
 together, but with that perversity with which expectations 
 are falsified, the rapidly diminishing hours brought her a 
 satisfaction that was altogether aUen to her dismal anticipa- 
 tions. 
 
 It was as if she were conscious that their love had 
 been tried, uplifted, and deepened by adversity, conse- 
 quently it was enabled to triiunph over the accidents of 
 life, making anything short of death that might befall 
 to seem of no account. 
 
 Now and again, she heartened Edgar with brave words, 
 telling him how the months of separation would soon pass ; 
 that she would occupy her days with tending her boy 
 (who was now with them) and bringing him up to be worthy 
 of his father. 
 
 There were occasions, however, particularly when she 
 was alone, when she knew a failijig of the spirit. 
 
 One of these was upon going to the dining-room to fetch 
 cigarettes for Edgar. 
 
 To her tense emotions, the room seemed singularly 
 deserted, and she found herself wondering how it would be 
 after eight on the following morning when her husband 
 would be torn from her arms. 
 
 The ticking of the clock claimed her attention, when its 
 pitiless persistence made her cry out : 
 
 " Why do you go on tickiag so ? " 
 
 Hardly were the words out of her mouth when she 
 recalled how, as a Uttle girl, she had made the same in- 
 quiry, but with the difference that, whereas then she had 
 been moved by childish curiosity, she was now filled by a 
 passionate resentment against the fleeting hours. 
 
 Afternoon and evening were passed much in the same 
 way as the morning, intervals of silence alternating with 
 intimate speech, but whether talking or occupied with their 
 thoughts, each moment had a certain and momentous 
 significance. 
 Now and again, Jeannie would note some expression or 
 18 
 
274 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 aspect of her husband with her eyes, before storing it in 
 her memory, to dwell upon fondly in the days of loneliness 
 which stretched bleakly before her. 
 
 After they had eaten, or made pretence of eating, their 
 last dinner, Edgar sat reflectively in an arm-chair, while 
 Jeannie, her hands supporting her head, her elbows on 
 the table, devoured him with her eyes. 
 
 Her surging emotions were such that she was about to 
 throw herself in his arms, when he said, much as if he were 
 talking to himself: 
 
 " AU this comes from one having married on insufficient 
 means. If we'd only waited till things had ' bucked up,' 
 there wouldn't have been this brutal separation." 
 
 " Does it follow ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Eh ! Undoubtedly, pretty Jeannie. If I'd only been 
 making a decent living, I shouldn't have gone in for clerk- 
 ing, and having got disgusted with it, we shouldn't have 
 gone in for poultry farming. It was that that's broken 
 my health : its ceaseless worries nearly drove me out of 
 my mind, and it must have nearly done the same to you. 
 It's this confounded want of money that's the cause of all 
 our troubles, as it is of most other people's. WiU you ever 
 forgive me ? " 
 
 " If we had money, we might have drifted apart, whereas 
 now " 
 
 Her heart was too fuU to complete her sentence. 
 
 A few moments later, she was sufficiently recovered to 
 continue : 
 
 " It's no use talking, sweetheart, of what might have 
 been. You can't get away from the fact that we loved 
 and were necessary to each other. When two people 
 love as we did, there can't be much wrong, whatever they 
 do, so long as they are true to one another ! " 
 
 " My Jeannie ! My own true Jeannie ! " he said, as if 
 musingly. 
 
 " And whatever happens, even at the worst, supposing 
 even — but I can't say that ' 
 
EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 275 
 
 " Yes, dearest ? " he asked, when he cotild trast himself 
 to speak. 
 
 " We have been happy — very, very happy. And what- 
 ever happens, no one can rob our hearts of that." 
 
 " We have been happy," he echoed, a trifle sadly. 
 
 " You speak as if you were sorry ! " 
 
 " I am — I am," he assured her. " I should have appre- 
 ciated y — it more." 
 
 They were both enwrapt in their thoughts for awhile, 
 Jeannie's mind being possessed of memories of entrancing 
 blue nights in Italy ; the ecstasies she had often known 
 in the shabby stucco viUa in Elm Grove ; in picturesque, 
 tumble-down " Larkslease " when, for all the attrition 
 caused by their manifold worries, she had lived and had 
 her being in the magic atmosphere of romance. 
 
 They spent a prolonged, sadly-sweet evening, which was 
 interrupted when Jeannie put her baby to bed, a duty in 
 which, to-night, she was assisted by her husband. 
 
 When they ultimately went upstairs to bed, father and 
 mother stood silently and for quite a long time beside the 
 cot of the little one whom their love had called into being. 
 
 In bed, Jeannie attempted, with indifferent success, 
 to forget it was the last time for many a long day her 
 beloved would rest beside her. 
 
 She made no effort to sleep; indeed, she would not 
 have succeeded if she had tried : she lay stark awake, 
 completely at the mercy of a more than commonly alert 
 mind. 
 
 Now and again, believing Edgar to be asleep, she would 
 turn over and, putting her arms about him, would kiss him 
 very tenderly on the lips, but on each occasion she discovered 
 he was awake, when they would cling to one another in a 
 frenzied embrace. 
 
 Once, when retrospectively disposed, her mind ranged 
 over the leading events of her married days ; more par- 
 ticularly on those which had affected the material pros- 
 perity of husband and wife. 
 
276 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 So far as she could see, it was as if an unkind fate had 
 persistently dogged their steps. 
 
 Apart from the fiasco of the dinner-party at " Pyra- 
 cantha," which had been largely responsible for her 
 estrangement from her father, with all its tragic conse- 
 quences to the latter, she recalled how they had been 
 cheated over the poultry farm, and just when they had 
 believed King would get them out of their trouble they 
 had learned the conditions attaching to the employment 
 . he offered. 
 
 This had seemed an insurmountable difficulty till Joe's 
 death and self-sacrificing disposition had enabled them 
 to meet their obligations and, therefore, satisfy King's 
 stipulation. 
 
 Then when, but for her abiding grief at her father's 
 death, her horizon had seemed clear, it was suddenly 
 invaded by the storm clouds which would break over her 
 life on the morrow. 
 
 A flaw in her train of thought occurred to her. 
 
 The calamity of her father's death had enabled them 
 to conquer unexpectedly financial adversity, and thus she 
 and hers had benefited from this dire happening. 
 
 This led her to wonder at the whys and wherefores 
 of things, the way in which the means to secure some 
 measure of happiness arose from a supreme sorrow. 
 
 Suddenly, certain words of her father's recurred to 
 her — words of warning he had spoken on the last day of 
 the year, before she had set out for the watch-night 
 service, when Edgar had declared his love. 
 
 " From what I can see of life," he had said, " even if 
 one gets what one wants, it's far from being plain sailing. 
 When things seem at their fairest, there's often a bitter 
 disappointment waiting round the corner ; and at the 
 best, for the most fortunate of us, it's a rough-and-tumble 
 journey." 
 
 She had disregarded his admonition ; now that she 
 recalled it, she realised the truth of his words. 
 
EDGAR LEAVES JEANNIE 277 
 
 The man she had loved then, but who was now part 
 of herself, was to be torn from her in a very few hours 
 when, considering what she had been to him, their sever- 
 ance would be in the nature of a mutilation. 
 
 Despairingly realising her helplessness in the matter, 
 she threw her arms about her husband, who was dozing 
 just then, and awakening him to consciousness with 
 passionate kisses, she cried : 
 
 " You won't run after other women when you're away ? " 
 
 " When I have my own beautiful Jeannie waiting for 
 me!" 
 
 " But men are different to women in these things ; 
 they're easily tempted. And I could not bear to think 
 of your being to other women what you have been to 
 me. 
 
 " Dearest ! Dearest ! " he cried protestingly. 
 
 " I have given so much to you. More than I But 
 
 our love is different to any one else's. I love you for your- 
 self : you love me for myself. That should make you 
 strong." 
 
 " It will ; it will." 
 
 " If it only would ! " she sighed. 
 
 Later, when her mind was possessed by a vision of 
 his ship carrying him down the wide reaches of the river, 
 and every moment increasing the distance between them, 
 she cried out : 
 
 " You'll look out for ' Larkslease ' on your way down." 
 
 " Of course, my Jeannie." 
 
 " Promise ! " 
 
 " I promise ! " 
 
 " And you'll think of me then, and of how happy we 
 were ? " 
 
 " What a question ! " 
 
 " Promise ! Promise ! " she cried. 
 
 "I promise! I promise!" 
 
 A little before daybreak, she said : 
 
 " There's something else I want you to do. Don't say 
 
278 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 ' Good-bye ' when you go, or I shall think I'll never see 
 you again. As an afterthought, she added : 
 
 " And don't come back when once you're gone. It's 
 unlucky." 
 
 When the dread day dawned, sleep mercifully closed 
 her eyes. When she awoke, Edgar was up and dressed. 
 
 " Why didn't you wake me ? " she asked, as she sprang 
 out of bed. 
 
 " It upsets me to see how troubled you are," he told her. 
 
 She had suffered so much that, again contrary to expecta- 
 tion, she was unable to feel the acute pain she had expected 
 as the hour for his departure approached : it was as if her 
 senses were numbed. 
 
 Reuben, his wife, Mabel, and Bevill were coming in a 
 four-wheeler at a quarter to eight ; while Edgar's mother 
 would have loved to accompany her son to the docks, she 
 renounced this desire in order to be a stay to Jeannie 
 during her ordeal. Edgar, who was to take his mother's 
 place in the brougham, expected Pightle to join him at 
 the station, his friend having slept the night at Richmond 
 in order to be up in time. 
 
 Beyond drinking a little tea, neither of them had any 
 breakfast ; presently, with one accord they ascended to 
 where their child rested, after which, in silence and with 
 wet eyes, Jeannie accompanied her husband on a visit 
 they involuntarily paid to each room in the house. 
 
 Then, they went downstairs where, before they sat 
 listening with straining ears for the sound of the cab wheels, 
 Jeannie stopped the clock. 
 
 " Why that ? " he asked. 
 
 " I couldn't stand it any longer. And — and — ^love 
 laughs at time," she faltered. 
 
 As they sat in a tense, nervous silence, Jeannie could 
 not realise that her husband was going on a long journey ; 
 to her dulled sensibilities it seemed that nothing further 
 than an ordinary jaunt was toward. 
 
 She ached to confess her heart of its immeasurable 
 
EDGAR LEAVES JE ANNIE 279 
 
 wealth of love, but when she tried to voice her emotion 
 she found she was only capable of the most commonplace 
 remarks. 
 
 At last, after an interval of agonising suspense, they 
 heard the dreaded wheels, and in what seemed but a very 
 few moments, Jeannie was alone with Edgar for the last 
 farewell. 
 
 They stood apart, as if fearful of the final embrace. 
 
 Then, she was fiercely gripping his body as she hysteric- 
 ally cried: 
 
 " Don't say good-bye ! Don't say good-bye ! " 
 
 " My love ! My love ! " 
 
 "And don't come back when once you're gone; it's 
 unlucky ; unlucky ! " 
 
 Their lips met in a last long kiss, and she would have 
 held him thus for ever if he had not torn himself away. 
 
 " Edgar ! Edgar ! " she cried, opening wide her arms. 
 
 " Let me go ! Let me go ! " he pleaded, as he hastened 
 fearfully from the room. 
 
 She would have beseeched him to return but voice and 
 strength failed her. 
 
 She feared faintness, but the closing of the front door 
 brought her to herself. 
 
 At the same time, Edgar's mother entered the room, 
 when, despite her own griefs, she essayed to comfort 
 the distraught wife. 
 
 But Jeannie was passionately resentful of even sweet 
 Mrs. Baverstock's consolations : she stopped her ears in 
 order not to hear the departing wheels. 
 
 A moment later, she felt that anything were better than 
 separation from Edgar : she hastened to the door in order 
 to follow the cab and beg him to take her with him. 
 
 Her hand was on the latch when the crying of her baby 
 upstairs made her hesitate. 
 
 The cry persisted and rose to a wail, at which Jeannie 
 was divided between a frantic desire to seek her husband 
 and a natural impulse to succour her child : her uncertainty 
 
28o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 so tried her disordered nerves that, in a frenzy of indecision, 
 she beat her hands on a wall of the passage. 
 
 Presently, she vaguely realised the futility of following 
 Edgar, at which, with bleeding heart and throbbing pulses, 
 she went wearily upstairs. 
 
 END OF PART I 
 
PART II 
 
 JEANNIE'S MIDDLE AGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE FATTED CALF 
 
 On a certain April morning, Jeannie sprang from bed with 
 a comparatively light heart ; her elation was caused by 
 expectation of the arrival of her son, who was coming home 
 after an absence of many weeks. 
 
 Although it was barely eight o'clock, the sun was high 
 in a clear sky, which latter fact she gladly noted, inasnmch 
 as her boy would have a fine day for his journey. 
 
 Then, such cheerfulness as she possessed was severely 
 chastened as she reverently looked upon a photograph 
 of her husband which occupied a place to itself on the table 
 beside her bed. 
 
 She sighed deeply before tubbing and dressing in haste, 
 there being many preparations to complete before the 
 arrival of her boy. 
 
 When she was ready to go downstairs, the sunlight 
 attracted her to the window, where she stood for some 
 moments appreciating its gracious warmth. 
 
 In spite of herself, the spring sunshine caused a stirring 
 
 in her blood ; presently, she went to the glass in order 
 
 to conceal one or two grey hairs, which had lately made 
 
 their appearance, but when, as she was arranging her 
 
 widow's cap in order to hide these, she caught sight of a 
 
 reflection of Edgar's photograph, she forbore : sighing 
 
 again, she ran downstairs (she was wonderfully young in 
 
 281 
 
282 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 her looks and ways for all her forty years) to ask the 
 ever - faithful Ethel if she had seen anything of the 
 postman. 
 
 " Not yet, ma'am," replied Ethel. 
 
 " Perhaps he's late." 
 
 " I thought I saw him go by ten minutes ago." 
 
 " Surely not ! " said Jeannie, as her face fell. 
 
 " It was very like him, ma'am." 
 
 Jeannie knew a sinking of spirit ; she had expected to 
 hear overnight from her dear Joey (since Edgar's decease 
 she could not bear to use her boy's first Christian name) 
 saying what time she might expect him ; since no letter 
 had arrived, she was confident of getting one by the morn- 
 ing's post. 
 
 Although Joey had always been a poor correspondent, 
 she could not bring herself to believe he had not troubled 
 to write, particularly as she had sent to ask him not to fail 
 to let her know the train he was coming by from Salisbury, 
 where he had been at a private school. For all Ethel's 
 assurance that the postman had gone by, she went 
 out of the front door and looked up and down the 
 road. 
 
 There was no one to be seen ; as she waited in dismal 
 suspense, a thousand and one fears entered her mind with 
 regard to every conceivable misfortune which might have 
 overtaken Joey. 
 
 Her apprehensions were such that, when she presently 
 came indoors without seeing anything of the postman, 
 she ate the merest morsel for breakfast, for all that Ethel 
 made light of her mistress' forebodings. 
 
 She had scarcely finished her scanty meal when the 
 idea occurred to her of sending Ethel for a morning paper 
 in order to see if anything untoward in which Joey were 
 involved had happened at Salisbury : she did not know 
 a moment's peace till the woman returned with a Daily 
 Mail, when Jeannie was immensely relieved to find no 
 calamity reported in the county town of Wiltshire. 
 
THE FATTED CALF 283 
 
 She had hardly concluded her search when it occurred 
 to her that if the worst she feared had happened, she would 
 assuredly have been telegraphed for. 
 
 Fortified with this reflection, she set about finishiiig 
 her preparations for her boy's coming, which in many 
 things practically amounted to doing over again what she 
 had already done before. 
 
 She dusted his bedroom and rearranged it to her exigent 
 satisfaction before making it gay with narcissi and daffodUs : 
 next, she went to the kitchen, where his bed and other 
 clothes were airing for the third day in succession, and 
 discussed with Ethel the preparations for dinner. 
 
 So far as Jeannie could tell, she expected Joey to arrive 
 at something after six ; she ordered dinner for seven, which 
 was to consist of roast lamb, baked potatoes, cauliflower, 
 together with strawberry-jam tart and cream, these being 
 her boy's favourite dishes. 
 
 When she had given Ethel a thousand and one unneces- 
 sary instructions concerning these, she wrote a letter to a 
 lodging-house at West Bay, Bridport, where she purposed 
 shortly taking Joey for a fortnight's stay. 
 
 She loved the quietude of this tumble-down port, not 
 only for its deserted picturesqueness, but because her 
 husband having died and been buried at sea, she could, 
 in a sense, muse by his graveside in peace. 
 
 Next, she went up to a room at the top of the house 
 which, by reason of its seclusion, she had had specially 
 fitted for Joey's studies. 
 
 Her eyes rested approvingly on the new carpet ; the roll- 
 top desk ; the revolving and other bookcases which held, 
 amongst others, the hundred best books ; the comfortable 
 chairs and the other appointments of the room, all of which, 
 if they did not represent some self-denial on Jeannie's part, 
 had been painstakingly chosen with due regard to appear- 
 ance as well as use. 
 
 She mused on all the great things her clever boy was 
 going to do in life (she had long ago destined him for the 
 
284 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Church) — ^noble things to which his studies in this room 
 would contribute. 
 
 Before she went downstairs to see if Ethel were free to 
 help her make the bed, she lovingly caressed the desk and 
 chairs. 
 
 Even when the bed was carefully made, she was not 
 satisfied that it was sufficiently aired : after carefully 
 filling two indiarubber hot-water bottles she, at intervals 
 of ten minutes, placed them in different parts of the 
 bed. 
 
 Although the day continued fine, and she was minded 
 to go out of doors, she repressed this inclination in order 
 to complete a pair of slippers she was working for Joey : 
 she sat in the cosy dining-room, and while she set about 
 her labour of love, she now and again glanced at the grand- 
 father clock, which had belonged to her father, in order 
 to note gratefully the steady persistence of the big hand. 
 
 As the minutes passed, the clock's ticking more and 
 more impinged on her thoughts ; it awoke painful memories, 
 which she strove to put from her mind ; she wished the 
 day of Joey's return to be free from sadness. 
 
 Fearing that, after all, she might be dominated by recol- 
 lections of the tale of pain that had been hers, she went 
 out to the pretty, old-world garden behind the house, where 
 she busied herself with the flowers she passionately loved 
 tin luncheon was on the table. 
 
 When this meal was over, she stayed indoors in the 
 hope of a letter arriving from Joey by the two o'clock 
 post, but when with her own eyes she saw the postman 
 pass, she resolved to go out as, by so doing, she hoped to 
 escape the dolorous memories to which she was frequently 
 subject. 
 
 As she did not feel disposed to walk, she called on a 
 family of her acquaintance, the Trills, not only with the 
 idea of kUhng time, but because she believed that young 
 Trill would prove a suitable companion for Joey. 
 
 The master of the house was an architect's assistant 
 
THE FATTED CALF 285 
 
 by occupation, otherwise he was a " parlour " socialist, 
 who had done his best to convert Jeannie to his views. 
 
 To this end, he had lent her various books and leaflets 
 on the subject near to his heart ; these she had assidu- 
 ously studied, but although she could make neither head 
 nor tail of the economic arguments advanced, nor succeed 
 in penetrating the artfully concealed sexual anarchy to 
 which the practice of socialism would inevitably lead, she 
 had been not a little attracted by the fine things it pro- 
 mised to suffering humanity. 
 
 When Jeannie knocked at the door, it was a long time 
 before it was answered ; she knew that Trill and his son 
 were at home, because she could hear the playing of a 
 violin and piano within. 
 
 Even when the door was opened by a none too clean 
 maid-servant, she was left to shift for herself, at which there 
 was nothing for it but to make for the room where music 
 was being played. 
 
 This was in the drawing-room ; as she entered, a not 
 altogether unexpected sight met her gaze. 
 
 Mr. Trill, a dark, shaggy, middle-aged man, was per- 
 spiringly thumping the piano ; Ernest, his son, was fiddling 
 from memory with a red sUk handkerchief tucked under 
 his chin ; while in another part of the room a very tall, 
 well-made old man was playing with a fat fox-terrier which, 
 in obeying his master's instructions, was attempting to 
 walk on his hind-legs. 
 
 The big man was Mr. Jackson, who was TriU's father- 
 in-law : Jearmie looked about her for Mrs. Trill, but she 
 was not in the room. 
 
 Although Ernest, in facing her as he did, must have seen 
 her, he made no sign of recognition, being apparently 
 enwrapt with his playing ; when he had a rest, his eyes 
 sought the ceiling in an abandonment of artistic emotion. 
 
 Otherwise, he was a teetotaller, a non-smoker, an ardent 
 radical, and given to serious reading : his pasty face was 
 peppered with spots. 
 
286 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 He and his father were practising for to-morrow's 
 " Pleasant Sunday Afternoon." 
 
 Jackson had waved his arm to Jeannie directly she 
 came into the room ; when he saw she had seated herself 
 and was listening to the music, he attempted to divert her 
 attention to the antics of his dog. 
 
 Compared to his son-in-law and grandson, Jackson was 
 by way of being an old reprobate, being fond of his glass, 
 and with a keen appreciation of a pretty face : he had been 
 a street jobber connected with the Stock Exchange for 
 many years until increasing deafness compelled him to 
 give up this exiguous occupation. 
 
 Now that he was stone deaf, he kept a supply of half- 
 sheets of paper and pencils in the room on which he was 
 asked questions or information was furnished. 
 
 He occasionally made money by mysterious means 
 when he was disposed to be defiant to his son-in-law's 
 political opinions ; on the other hand, when hard up, 
 as he nearly always was, he was compelled to defer to 
 Trill's convictions. 
 
 At the conclusion of the performance, Jeannie thanked 
 the players, at which she was amused to see that Ernest 
 withdrew the fiddle and bowed low ; at the same time, 
 he dexterously caught the red silk handkerchief with his 
 right hand, and with a flourish returned it to his pocket : 
 he was evidently rehearsing his acknowledgment of the 
 applause he anticipated when playing in public. 
 
 " How is my dear Mrs. Baverstock ? " asked Mr. Trill, 
 in rather a high voice. " And why didn't you let us know 
 you were here ? " 
 
 " You might have stopped pla3dng," replied Jeannie, 
 as she took up a pencil from the table and wrote on one 
 of Jackson's half-sheets of paper : " How are you ? " 
 
 This she handed to Jackson, who was now endeavouring 
 to persuade the fox-terrier to shake hands with the 
 visitor. 
 
 " Has Joey arrived ? " asked Trill. 
 
THE FATTED CALF 287 
 
 " N — not yet. I was wondering if you would all come 
 in to tea to-morrow afternoon." 
 
 " Delighted — at least Ernest and I would be. You must 
 ask my wife yourself ; she'll be down directly ; she's 
 upstairs dressing as she's going to town." 
 
 " I hope Mr. Jackson will come too." 
 
 " You must ask him." 
 
 She was about to write the invitation, when Jackson 
 thrust a piece of paper under her nose ; upon it was scrawled, 
 " My dear, you're looking lovely." 
 
 She was weU used to old Jackson's vagaries; indeed, 
 in spite of herself, she had much of an affection for the 
 sprightly old man. She crumpled up the paper and threw 
 it in the fireplace before writing, " Will you come to tea 
 to-morrow ? " She was handing it to Jackson when the 
 door opened and TriU's wife came into the room, at which 
 he took advantage of his daughter's entrance to whisper 
 to Jeannie : 
 
 " If you'll sit by me." 
 
 Mrs. Trill was quite the last woman in the world one could 
 expect Trill to have married. 
 
 She was a magnificently developed creature in the prime 
 of Ufe, with an abundance of rich brown hair ; she had a 
 glorious complexion and big sleepy eyes, in which lurked 
 slumbering fires. 
 
 This afternoon, she was scented and elaborately turned 
 out for her visit to town. 
 
 She approached and kissed Jeannie, who had no 
 particular liking for her, before asking her husband the 
 time. 
 
 " Ten minutes to four, dear." 
 
 " Then I shall just be in time for the four-five. Good- 
 bye, dccirest." 
 
 For sdl her loving words, she merely offered her cheek to 
 her husband, who said : 
 
 " Mrs. Baverstock wants us to come to tea to-morrow." 
 
 " Indeed 1 " remarked Mrs. Trill casually. 
 
288 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " She's expecting Joey to-night, and he will be there 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Delighted ! " exclaimed Mrs. Trill, with some approach 
 to warmth. 
 
 She kissed her father affectionately, and, as she went out 
 of the room, her husband said : 
 
 " Remember me to aunt Mary." 
 
 " I won't forget," repUed Mrs. Trill. 
 
 " She's so devoted to her aunt," Trill informed Jeannie, 
 when his haifdsome wife had disappeared. " She some- 
 times goes to see her as often as twice a week." 
 
 " I'm looking forward to seeing Joey again," declared 
 Trill presently. " How old is he now ? " 
 
 " Nineteen." 
 
 " Just the right age." 
 
 Jeannie questioningly opened her eyes 
 
 " To form his mind politically," Trill informed her. 
 
 " I don't think Joey thinks very much about politics." 
 
 " But he should. And when so many young men are 
 afflicted with this deplorable mania for Imperialism, it's a 
 very great thing to pluck a brand from the burning, as one 
 might say." 
 
 " I hope he and Ernest will become great friends," 
 remarked Jeannie lamely. 
 
 " So do I. Ernest is a prominent member of the local 
 ' League of Young Liberals,' and should influence Joey 
 to join." 
 
 " Indeed ! " remarked Jeannie, who, at that moment, 
 would have given much to know what Joey was doing just 
 then. 
 
 TriU enlarged on his subject ; but her fears for her boy, 
 and the fact of old Jackson persistently humming to his fat 
 pet, made it difficult for Jeannie to give the socialist 
 adequate attention. 
 
 " What is he getting excited about ? " asked Jackson 
 presently, as he thrust pencil and paper in Jeannie's 
 hand. 
 
THE FATTED CALF 289 
 
 " Making Joey join the ' League of Young Liberals,' " 
 wrote Jeannie. 
 
 " Much better be a Territorial," cried Jackson, with 
 sudden recklessness, when he had read what Jeannie had 
 written. 
 
 " Territorial ! " almost screamed Mr. TrDL " Excepting 
 the ' Boy Scouts,' was there ever a more pernicious move- 
 ment than that ? " 
 
 " I scarcely know," murmured Jeannie. 
 
 " Just when the world is learning to do without harsh 
 methods in international dealings, and arbitration, and 
 such-like things are making such headway, to turn the youth 
 of the nation into young savages ! It's infamous ! 
 Infamous ! " 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " cried Ernest. 
 
 " What are they excited about now ? " asked Jackson, as 
 he thrust pencil and paper in Jeannie's hand. 
 
 " Territorials and Boy Scouts," wrote Jeannie. 
 
 " JoUy fine thing," cried Jackson, after reading Jeannie's 
 reply. 
 
 Trill turned to stare at his father-in-law with dismayed 
 astonishment before delivering his soul of his opinion of 
 such organisations, declaring that the fostering of military 
 ideas hindered the approaching universal brotherhood of 
 man, which all high-minded men and women were doing 
 their best to establish. He was sure dear Mrs. Baverstock 
 would agree with him. 
 
 Jeannie's mind was so full of Joey that she had given in- 
 different heed to what he had been saying ; wishing to be 
 civil, however, she murmured a feeble assent to Trill's 
 diatribe, and took the earliest opportunity of rising to 
 
 go- 
 She was pressed, particularly by old Jackson, to stay for 
 
 tea ; she declined the invitation as she was eager to hurry 
 
 home in order to see if a telegram had arrived from 
 
 Joey. 
 Jackson insisted on accompanying her to the gate ; when 
 19 
 
290 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 he was out of earshot of his son-in-law, he jerked his head 
 in the direction of the latter as he exclaimed : 
 
 " Damn fool ! " 
 
 He, then, paid Jeannie the most fulsome compliments 
 under his breath. 
 
 When she excitedly opened her front door, there was no 
 communication for her ; she sought to relieve her dis- 
 appointment by reflecting that, all being well, Joey would be 
 with her within two hours from now. 
 
 For all her hopes, seven o'clock found Jeannie waiting at 
 the gate, and anxiously looking up the road in the 
 direction of the station for the cab that would bring her 
 boy. 
 
 Within, fires were burning in his bedroom and study, 
 while Ethel in a smart new cap and apron was awaiting her 
 mistress's orders to dish up the dinner, the lamb being done 
 to a turn. 
 
 A thousand and one forebodings filled Jeannie's mind as 
 the expected vehicle failed to put in an appearance ; every 
 moment she was becoming increasingly apprehensive that 
 some catastrophe had happened. 
 
 At last, she could bear the suspense no longer ; she ran to 
 her room to put on hat and cloak, and after calling to Ethel 
 to keep the joint hot, she hastened in the direction of the 
 station. 
 
 As it was Saturday night, there were many people out of 
 doors ; although Jeannie passed several with whom she 
 was on speaking terms, she was too preoccupied with her 
 fears to acknowledge the salutations of her acquaint- 
 ances. 
 
 When she arrived at the station, a train had just come in ; 
 she eagerly scanned the faces about the ticket collector in 
 the hope of seeing Joey, only to meet with disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 As soon as she was able, she approached the ticket 
 collector, to inquire : 
 
 " Are the trains late this evening ? " 
 
THE FATTED CALF 291 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 She sighed relief before asking : 
 
 " You haven't heard of anything happening ? " 
 
 The man looked at her in surprise. 
 
 " Any railway accident, or anything of that sort ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," replied the man, who was wonder- 
 ing if the approaching stationmaster had perceived he had 
 not given a receipt for an excess fare. 
 
 Mr. Church, the stationmaster, was a burly, bearded man 
 who occasionally exchanged a few words with Jeannie on 
 the rare occasions on which she went to town ; seeing how 
 perturbed she looked, he asked : 
 
 " Anything I can do for you, ma'am ? " 
 
 " I'm expecting my son. I was wondering why he 
 hadn't arrived." 
 
 " Tall, dark young gentleman ? " 
 
 " Very tall for his age." 
 
 " I know him by sight, ma'am ; I've seen nothing of him. 
 But there are plenty more trains between now and the 
 twelve-forty." 
 
 Scarcely knowing what she was at, Jeannie hurried home 
 in the hope of a telegram explaining Joey's non-arrival 
 having come in her absence ; there was nothing for her, 
 and she was distractedly wondering what she should do 
 when Ethel attempted to persuade her to have some dinner. 
 
 " But what about Master Joey ? " 
 
 " Let him have it when he comes in. Serve him right if he 
 has it cold," declared practical Ethel. 
 
 Although in her present condition of mind the sight of 
 food nauseated her, the servant's scarcely veiled derision of 
 her apprehensions did much to calm her mind ; but only 
 for a time ; very soon, she was again hastening to the 
 station to meet the next train. 
 
 For the best part of three hours, Jeannie hurried back- 
 wards and forwards ; when not convinced that something 
 terrible had happened to Joey, she strove to discover 
 possible explanations for his failure to arrive. 
 
292 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 When the ten-forty came in, but six people passed the 
 barrier, one of these being Mrs. TrUl. 
 
 Apparently her aunt Mary had done very well, for her 
 face was suffused with colour while her fine eyes were glow- 
 ing and brilliant with emotion. 
 
 She was so occupied with her thoughts that she did not 
 appear to see Jeannie ; as she passed, the latter was en- 
 veloped in perfume which at once took her mind back to a 
 night of her belated honeymoon at Monte Carlo. 
 
 The recollection made her wince ; she was wondering if 
 it would not be as well to set off for town by the next train 
 and make inquiries there, when she perceived three tall 
 youths wheeling bicycles along the platform, at which her 
 heart beat quickly ; one of these was Joey. She darted 
 past the ticket collector and almost threw herself on 
 her son. 
 
 " Joey ! Joey ! " she exclaimed gleefully. 
 
 " Mater ! " cried the astonished boy. 
 
 " What has happened ? But you have come. Are you 
 quite, quite well ? " 
 
 " Course. But " 
 
 " I have been anxious. Oh ! why didn't you w 
 
 But you've come now." 
 
 " That's all right," said Joey off-handedly. Then, as he 
 saw that his mother was wholly oblivious of his annoyance 
 at her effusive welcome, he said, none too graciously : 
 " Wait a minute. I want to say good-night to my 
 pals." 
 
 She waited outside the station ; when he joined her, she 
 was about to throw her arms about him and kiss him when 
 he said : 
 
 " I say, mater ! " 
 
 " Yes, darling." 
 
 " You needn't have done that." 
 
 " Done what, my dearest ? " 
 
 " Made me look an ass before those chaps." 
 
 She looked at him in pained astonishment. 
 
THE FATTED CALF 293 
 
 " Waiting for me and then going for me like that. I 
 shall be chaffed ' no end,' " he went on. 
 
 " But, Joey " 
 
 " All very well. But it's a bit thick, you know. You 
 might have consideration for me ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 DISILLUSION 
 
 For all Joey's ungraciousness to his mother, which con- 
 tinued for some time after they had reached home, Jeannie 
 awoke betimes the next morning with a glad heart ; she 
 was looking forward to a quiet Sunday with her boy. 
 
 As he was probably tired from his journey, she had told 
 Ethel not to call him till half-past eight ; after half-past 
 nine breakfast, Joey would take her to church, which 
 proceeding would give her infinite pleasure, she being 
 excessively proud of her weU-grown boy. 
 
 Such was her joy at his safe arrival, at the fact of his 
 sleeping under the same roof as herself, that she had quite 
 forgotten any forebodings she may have known the previous 
 evening on account of the coldness with which he had 
 greeted her hopes for his ecclesiastical future ; she was 
 confident that the influences of the day, his home, and 
 herself would more than suffice to divert his ambition into 
 the desired channels. 
 
 As she lay in bed, she was surprised to hear Joey moving 
 in the room overhead where he slept ; a few moments later, 
 he ran downstairs and turned on the bath, at which she 
 wondered if religious fervour were urging him to early 
 Holy Communion. 
 
 Not thinking it seemly to be abed while Joey was thus 
 moved, she got up in all haste, resolving to walk with him 
 so far as the church ; she would then come back in order to 
 see that a good breakfast awaited his return. 
 
 This being Jeannie's explanation of his early rising, it may 
 be imagined that she received a considerable shock when on 
 
DISILLUSION 295 
 
 coming down she perceived Joey oiling his bicycle in a none 
 too clean cycling suit. 
 
 Her astonishment was such that she did not know what 
 to say, at which Joey, without looking up, asked : 
 
 " Is that you, mater ? " 
 
 " Y— yes, dear." 
 
 " Ripping morning." 
 
 " It's Sunday, Joey." 
 
 " ' Chestnuts,' mater." 
 
 " I thought you'd forgotten." 
 
 " Why should I forget ? I've fixed up a run with Day 
 and Coleby. It's the only day Coleby can get away." 
 
 " But how long will you be gone ? " asked Jeannie, 
 momentarily inspired by a gleam of hope. " Will you be 
 back by eleven ? " 
 
 " Eleven ? We're going to Chelmsford. I'm meeting 
 'em at the bridge at half-past nine." 
 
 Jeannie was so taken aback by this information that, for 
 want of something better to say, she remarked : 
 
 " But it's only half -past seven. You're surely not going 
 now ? " 
 
 " I've just had my three-speed gear seen to. I just want 
 to see if it's ' OK.' " 
 
 " I'll get breakfast early, as I should like a talk with you 
 before you go." 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " I said I should like a little talk with you before you go." 
 
 " What's up ? " he asked casually, as with bent back he 
 still attended to his bicycle. 
 
 Jeannie summoned aU her courage to say : 
 " Considering you're going into the Church, dear, bicycling 
 on a Sunday seems scarcely the right sort of preparation." 
 
 " All right, mater. But you're standing in the 
 light." 
 
 Some half-hour later, when he returned hot and flushed 
 from his ride, he called out : 
 " Breakfast ready ? " 
 
296 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " It won't be long, dear," replied his mother. " I didn't 
 have it cooked tiU you came in. I wanted it to be nice and 
 hot for you." 
 
 " This is a rotten hole," grumbled Joey. 
 
 " Why, dear ? " 
 
 His reply further jarred her susceptibilities. 
 
 " There's no getting a Sunday paper. If you want a 
 Referee, you have to order it." 
 
 Jeannie hurried her preparations for breakfast, and in so 
 doing was irritable with Ethel for no reason at all ; she was 
 determined to have a serious talk with Joey, and if it were 
 possible dissuade him from his ride. 
 
 When she joined him at the breakfast table, he was in- 
 tently examining some foreign postage stamps. 
 
 " Stamps ? " remarked Jeannie. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I should have thought you were too old for that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " Don't you believe it. There's a lot of money in 
 stamps." 
 
 " I hate that word ' money,' " declared Jeannie, as she 
 took her seat at the table. 
 
 He made as if he were about to reply, but, changing his 
 mind, he preserved silence. 
 
 Although Jeannie was not a little dismayed by Joey's 
 behaviour, she was gratified to notice his hearty appetite, 
 coffee, rolls, eggs, bacon, and jam disappearing with 
 astonishing quickness ; she, herself, ate next to nothing, a 
 proceeding that was unnoticed by her son. 
 
 She was meditating how best to broach the subject she 
 had in mind, when Joey surprised her by saying : 
 
 " You know, mater, you're an awful-looking kid." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked, flushing. 
 
 " You look so jolly young. No one 'ud believe, unless 
 they knew, you'd a son who was a man." 
 
 " Nonsense, Joey," she remarked, striving to stifle the 
 pleasure his words gave her. 
 
DISILLUSION 297 
 
 " Day said last night he was quite in love with you, and 
 he wondered why you'd never married again. 
 
 Jeannie's face hardened, at which Joey said : 
 
 " It's a good thing you haven't. As likely as not, you'd 
 have made a mess of it. Now if any one comes along, 
 they'll have me to deal with." 
 
 " Joey ! " 
 
 " And some one who knows what's what." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't talk in that worldly fashion," 
 declared Jeannie, but for all her reproof he imperturbably 
 continued : " But, if I'm to look after you, you must help 
 me to dress the part." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried his perplexed mother. 
 
 He looked at her sharply before replying : 
 
 " I was wondering if my pretty mater would stand me a 
 smart dress suit ? " 
 
 When she had recovered from her surprise at his request, 
 she asked : 
 
 " What can you want with such a thing ? " 
 
 " Other men of my age have them." 
 
 " But they're not all going into the Church." 
 
 " I'm not so sure that I am, pretty mater ! " 
 
 " Joey ! " she cried, in dismay. 
 
 " Being a parson is all very well so far as it goes, but 
 there's precious little money in it." 
 
 " Why drag money into everything, dear ? " 
 
 " Because one can't do without it. But about this 
 dress suit. I'm going to stay with Pengelly on Wednes- 
 day " 
 
 " Pengelly ! " repeated an alarmed Jeannie, who, although 
 she had never met the youth mentioned, had, from aU Joey 
 had told her of his school friend, an intense dislike for him, 
 she considering him anything but a fit companion for her 
 son. 
 
 " His people have asked me up for two or three weeks, 
 and there's a giddy old aunt coming to stay with them, and 
 she's keen on a high old time. As she'll want us to go to all 
 
298 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 sorts of places where one simply must dress, I should like to 
 know where I come in if I can't ! " 
 
 " And — and you mean to say you've accepted this 
 invitation ? " 
 
 " What do you think ? " he replied almost scornfully. 
 
 " I was looking forward to our going to Bridport, dear," 
 she gravely informed him. 
 
 " What on earth is there to do in a hole like Bridport ? " 
 asked Joey, as having, at last, finished his breakfast, he 
 produced tobacco pouch, pipe, and matches. 
 
 " Smoking ! And so early ! " 
 
 " Why on earth not ? " 
 
 " It's not the best preparation for the Chiurch, Joey," his 
 mother reminded him. 
 
 " I'm not so wonderfully keen on the Church," remarked 
 Joey, as he coolly filled his pipe. 
 
 " You mentioned that before," she sighed. 
 
 " And as I told you before, pretty mater, there's nowa- 
 days precious little money in the Church." 
 
 Believing that her son's whole moral future was at stake, 
 she warmly applied herself to the task of combating his 
 backsliding ; after the manner of her sex, she alternately 
 objected and pleaded, the while she met his refusal to fall 
 in with her point of view with scarcely the most logical of 
 arguments. 
 
 In the nature of things, she was handicapped from the 
 first ; to begin with, there was her abiding love for a 
 naturally selfish youth who had only thought for his own 
 convenience, pleasures, and interests ; also, while he was 
 speaking, the occasional pose of his head, certain expres- 
 sions of his face, and mannerisms of speech recalled her ever- 
 dear Edgar to her mind and softened her heart where it 
 should have been inflexibly hard. 
 
 The discussion had such an inconsequent ending that 
 Jeannie was trying to screw up her courage to speak firmly, 
 when Joey rose to say : 
 
 " If I don't go now, I shall be late." 
 
DISILLUSION 299 
 
 " I was hoping you were going to church with me, 
 dear." 
 
 " It'll do me much more good to ride to Chelmsford with 
 Day and Coleby." 
 
 " But why Chelmsford, Joey ? " 
 
 " Why not, pretty mater ? " 
 
 " It's on the main road, and it's so dangerous with all 
 these motors about." 
 
 " That's half the fun." 
 
 " Joey ! " 
 
 " Dodging them, I mean." 
 
 Her heavy heart was comforted somewhat as he came to 
 kiss her before he went ; forgetful of her own troubles, she 
 was immediately solicitous for his well-being. 
 
 " What time will you be back ? " she asked. 
 
 " Any time this evening." 
 
 " But where will you get luncheon ? " 
 
 " Some pub," he told her, as he went to the door. 
 
 " But you'll want some money ? " she suggested. 
 
 " I can borrow it," he replied, as he lingered in the door- 
 way. 
 
 She offered him some loose silver, at which he said : 
 
 " I'U take four bob, dear." 
 
 " Is that enough ? " 
 
 " You can put the rest towards my dress suit." 
 
 " Do mind the motors, Joey," she called after him, as he 
 went. 
 
 Jeannie was so wretched when Joey had gone that she 
 could not bear the confinement of the four walls of her 
 home ; she put on her things with the idea of going to 
 church, but when she got out of doors, she abandoned the 
 idea, her troubled thoughts preferring the seclusion of the 
 adjacent Forest. 
 
 Before going there, however, she resolved to put off the 
 Trills from coming to tea ; she did not want them to find 
 Joey absent. 
 
 The servant who opened the door informed her that Mr. 
 
3O0 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 and Master Trill were at chapel, that Mrs. Trill was not 
 yet up, and Mr. Jackson was in the garden. 
 
 Jeannie left her message, and as she came away she heard 
 Jackson singing in the garden presumably while attempting 
 to teach his fat terrier to walk on his hind legs. 
 
 When she crossed the London road on her way to the 
 Forest, the passing motor-cars filled her with alarm on Joey's 
 account ; she wondered if he dimly surmised the anxieties 
 she suffered concerning the risks he ran of mutilation or 
 death. 
 
 When she reached the Forest, she walked on the accumula- 
 tion of dead leaves till she came to a fallen tree-trunk ; 
 although the sunshine, and the gay evidences of the great 
 awakening proceeding on every hand should have glad- 
 dened her heart, she remained unresponsive to the joyous 
 influences about her; instead, she was steeped in gloom, 
 when she became an easy prey to the dismal memories that 
 insistently assailed her. 
 
 She made one or two efforts to fight against these, know- 
 ing full well how they would further depress her spirits, but 
 Joey's flouting of her wishes with regard to the career she 
 had selected for him, the preferences he had exhibited for a 
 worldly life enfeebled her capacity for resistance. 
 
 Motherlike, she wondered if she had been remiss in the 
 forming of his mind, and, if so, how false she had been to the 
 loving duty she owed her dearest Edgar. 
 
 Immediately the thoughts of her ever beloved came into 
 her mind, the stunted trees with their high-forked limbs, 
 the shy green on the bushes, and the masses of dead bracken, 
 which looked as if it bad been arranged for effect by the 
 hands of a supreme artist, all faded from her sight. 
 
 She was back in her little Richmond home, waiting in an 
 agony of suspense for her husband's letters ; if it had not 
 been for her boy, and for the communications from Edgar, 
 life for her would have proved unendurable. 
 
 Since her marriage, Edgar had hardly been absent one 
 night from her side ; after he took up poultry farming, he 
 
DISILLUSION 301 
 
 had been in and out of the house all day, consequently his 
 absence had been a brutal deprivation, for all that Edgar's 
 mother did her best to lessen her daughter-in-law's grief. 
 
 Edgar's letters had been frequent, long, and fuU of love 
 for, and devotion to, his wife while, at the same time, they 
 confessed to a homesickness which had touched Jeannie to 
 the quick. 
 
 She wrote long moving letters in reply, begging him to 
 make speedy arrangements for her joining him ; he had 
 fallen in with the suggestion, and she had been expecting a 
 letter proposing something definite, when a strange thing 
 had happened. 
 
 There was a distinct change of tone in his writings ; it 
 was not so much that he had indefinitely put her off from 
 coming to him, but reading between the lines, her quick 
 apprehensions perceived that there was more than a sug- 
 gestion of throwing cold water on their mutual love. 
 
 If any other woman in a like situation had shown her 
 these letters, she would have believed that the writer cared 
 for some one else and, in spite of himself, betrayed the fact. 
 
 So far as she was concerned, such an impression was 
 unthinkable, she having far too much faith in her manifold 
 attractions even to suggest that Edgar had forgotten his 
 golden-haired Jeannie. 
 
 Then had followed a time when her husband's letters 
 became more and more infrequent ; until the last day of 
 her life she would never forget the agony of mind caused by 
 his comparative silence ; she would not, dared not, question 
 his fidelity ; she could only pass her days in a monotony of 
 suffering unreheved by distraction. 
 
 He had allowed her more than enough to live on out of 
 his comfortable salary ; with what she had saved, and the 
 money that still remained of Joe's legacy, she had all but 
 made up her mind to brave the inconveniences of the 
 journey and seek out her husband in Johannesburg when 
 he wrote her a letter that made her abandon her project. 
 
 In this, he expressed an almost hysterical passion for 
 
302 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 his Jeannie ; declared he could no longer live without her, 
 and announced that as he was now more than recovered in 
 health, he was about to start for home ; he, also, said how 
 he had acquired holdings in mines for a mere song, and that 
 as these were rapidly appreciating, he was independent of 
 King. 
 
 Jeannie's joy was such on receiving this communication 
 that she could hardly contain herself ; indeed, the sudden 
 revulsion of emotion from her previous depression brought 
 her within measurable distance of a nervous breakdown. 
 
 He had written once more before his boat started, when he 
 had mentioned that he had not been feeling over well for 
 the last few days, but looked to the voyage to put him 
 on his legs. 
 
 Although, in spite of herself, Jeannie was retrospectively 
 disposed, she would not suffer her mind to recall the 
 agonies of the following months ; these commenced with 
 her suspense till she heard further from Edgar, and deepened 
 when she received a letter from the owners of the ship by 
 which he was coming saying that he was very seriously 
 ill. 
 
 The news of his death from typhoid fever and burial at 
 sea arrived a day or two later, and even as Jeannie avoided 
 dwelling on this tragic event, she gripped tightly her 
 fingers, while her heart was wrung with pain. 
 
 The next thing she dwelt upon was her means of escape 
 from the ceaseless anguish which threatened to overwhelm 
 her utterly, this, devotion to her boy. 
 
 With a passionate abnegation of self, Jeannie had to some 
 extent assuaged her grief by consecrating her days to the 
 upbringing of her little one. 
 
 As she sat in reverie, her mind dwelt gratefully on the 
 thousand and one sacrifices and cares she had respectively 
 made and known in the task she had joyfuUy set herself, 
 gratefully, because she believed that in doing as she did 
 she was but carrying out the wishes of her dearest one, 
 could he have made them known. 
 
DISILLUSION 303 
 
 She had had no thought in hfe that was alien to her Joey's 
 interests. 
 
 As can readily be imagined, such a fond mother l^d 
 hopelessly spoiled a boy who, although well disposed at 
 heart, had enough and to spare of human selfishness ; 
 when he was home from school, she could have done nothing 
 with him if she had been minded to exert authority. 
 
 Although she had done her very utmost to bring him up 
 in the way he should go, she had discovered that, while 
 eager to make professions of goodness, his ways were at 
 variance with his protestations. 
 
 Even now she associated his most mischievous acts as a 
 child with the following verse that was included in his 
 
 prayers : 
 
 " The morning comes with shining light, 
 My God took care of me last night. 
 I wish I might be good all day, 
 And put all naughty thoughts away." 
 
 Doubtless, for all his headstrong ways, he would have 
 proved a good enough boy if he had had a father to correct 
 sternly his faults. 
 
 Almost before he had been old enough to go to school, 
 she had made up her mind as to the profession he was to 
 follow, this that of clergyman, the money Edgar had left 
 more than enabling her to provide the necessary expenses. 
 
 She had altogether something over three hundred a year 
 derived from the valuable Rand shares Edgar had left, and 
 the American land company in which he had put money 
 when at " Larkslease " ; as Reuben had then prophesied, 
 they had proved a profitable investment. 
 
 If she had fallen in with her father-in-law's wishes re- 
 specting her boy (he wished him to go into his business), he 
 would have gladly paid for the most expensive education 
 procurable ; indeed, his measure of affection for his grandson 
 could be gauged by this offer, old age having increased his 
 close-listedness. 
 
 But Jeannie's mind was bent on Joey's following the 
 
304 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 vocation she had selected, consequently she would have 
 none of Reuben's dearly loved money ; her intentions re- 
 specting her boy were warmly supported by her mother- 
 in-law. 
 
 Reuben's wife, whom the passing of the years had made 
 more frail-looking than ever, had had so much trouble with 
 her husband and daughter that all her hopes in life were 
 largely centred on her sharp-witted, comely grandson. 
 
 She was aware of her husband's desire that Joey should 
 follow the same occupation as himself ; seeing how the greed 
 for money had depraved Reuben's character, she constantly 
 urged on Jeannie that the boy should, so far as it 
 was possible, be preserved from his grandfather's 
 influence. 
 
 To this end, Jeannie had very regretfully moved from the 
 little Richmond house (where " Lassie," her father's dog, 
 was buried), tenderly endeared to her from the fact of 
 Edgar's having lived and loved within its walls, and gone 
 to live at Woodbridge in Essex, a place that was neither 
 suburb nor country, although rapidly approximating to the 
 former. 
 
 Jeannie had a further motive in this change, which was 
 that Essex being more removed from the dissipations of 
 the West End of London than Richmond (in itself a lively 
 place), her Joey would not be so liable to be attracted by 
 the distractions and temptations to which youth is prone. 
 
 It was in order that he might not be diverted from the 
 calling she had selected that, instead of sending him to a 
 public school, he had gone to a private one, such places, at 
 least, so Jeannie foolishly believed, providing a healthier 
 atmosphere than the rough-and-tumble association of a 
 large number of boys. 
 
 For the same reason, she had decided to send him to a 
 theological college in preference to Oxford or Cambridge ; 
 it was to enable him to quahfy for the less attractive means 
 of entering the Church that she had fitted the room upstairs 
 as a study. 
 
DISILLUSION 305 
 
 At the same time, she was nervously aware that her care- 
 fxil arrangements were at all times liable to dislocation. 
 
 For instance, she had expected her mother-in-law a few 
 days back in order to discuss their gentle plan of campaign 
 respecting Joey ; but Mrs. Baverstock, who had for some 
 months been in indifferent health, had written to say that 
 she was not well enough to come at present ; Jeannie knew 
 she must be seriously indisposed to abandon a visit on which 
 she had set her heart. 
 
 Also, Joey had struck up what his mother considered to 
 be an undesirable friendship with PengeUy, who was a f eUow- 
 pupU at the same private school ; undesirable, as the latter 
 had a leaning to theatres and music-halls, and had even 
 been known to put half-crowns on horses : Jeannie had 
 done her best to break off the acquaintance, but with no 
 particular success. 
 
 In addition to this friendship, Joey had a knack of 
 getting to know young men of the better class in the neigh- 
 bourhood, consequently she knew that all her work was cut 
 out to prevent him from being deflected from the ecclesi- 
 astical course on which she had set her heart. 
 
 Presently, she got up, meaning to go home, but was so 
 weighed down with dismal apprehensions that, scarcely 
 knowing what she was doing, she fetched something of a 
 compass. 
 
 Exercise, sunlight, the influences of spring somewhat 
 lightened her heart, and by the time she perceived she had 
 gone considerably out of her way, she knew an indifferent 
 approximation to content. 
 
 Then, a strange thing happened. 
 
 She passed an orchard in full bloom. 
 
 The sight of the glorious spread of pink and white blossom 
 caused her to stop and regard helplessly its appealing love- 
 hness. 
 
 At the same time, in spite of herself, she was obsessed by 
 thoughts of sex, of which as a general rule she was innocent. 
 
 Apart from the domestic wars and alarms attending 
 20 
 
3o6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Joey's upbringing, her life had been singularly uneventful 
 since the death of her husband. 
 
 She had made the acquaintance of families at Richmond, 
 more with the idea of providing playmates for Joey than for 
 any other purpose, when her chief delight had been to be 
 invited, with him, to children's parties, and watch him 
 amuse himself in dancing or romping games. 
 
 Much to her surprise, several more or less eligible men 
 had made advances to the beautiful young widow, but, 
 meeting with no encouragement, had left her to her devices. 
 
 Then, to her considerable astonishment, her husband's 
 old friend Pightle had sought her out and, after awhile, 
 had characteristically wondered " if Jeannie would care 
 to take charge of a thorough-going rotter like himself." 
 
 Jeannie, believing that so much as to think of such a 
 thing was in the nature of sacrilege to Edgar's memory, had 
 gently declined the responsibility. 
 
 But that was all in the long ago. 
 
 Pightle was now in the nature of a tender memory, he 
 having given his life for his country in the Boer War. 
 
 When, for all Jeannie's vow of widowhood, thoughts of 
 sex would occasionally dominate her mind, she endeavoured 
 to withstand them, which resistance doubtless had the 
 effect of strengthening their attacks. 
 
 At the same time, she was not blind to the fact that she 
 must suffer the lot of all fond mothers inasmuch as, sooner 
 or later, her precious Joey would go out of her life to make a 
 home of his own ; she sometimes found herself wondering 
 what she should do when this inevitable thing happened, 
 and if she would then be too old for affection (she was con- 
 vinced she could never love again as she had loved Edgar) 
 to come into her Hfe. 
 
 This morning, the orchard bloom in which blackbirds and 
 thrushes were seemingly breaking their hearts in the effort 
 to express adequately their love for their respective mates, 
 made her being ache for a little tenderness, understanding, 
 and sympathy from the male of her species ; her isolation 
 
DISILLUSION 307 
 
 from such things caused her to feel singularly lonely and 
 miserable in a joyously amorous world, and she sighed 
 deeply before betaking herself homeward. 
 
 For the rest of the day, Jeannie either moped or sur- 
 rendered to her fears with regard to any and every accident 
 which might befaU Joey on his bicycle. 
 
 About seven, Ethel being out, she saw that a good supper 
 awaited his return, putting on the table many little 
 luxuries which might tempt his appetite. 
 
 As the time passed, and he did not come back, she for- 
 bore to have any Ughts, preferring to nurse her griefs first 
 in the twihght ; later, in darkness. 
 
 Now and again, and with increasing frequency, she would 
 go to the gate, and walk up the road, in the hope of seeing 
 him. 
 
 About ten, she was still sitting in darkness when the 
 quietness of the road was invaded by three joyous youths 
 on bicycles. 
 
 They stopped outside the house and a familiar step 
 crunched the gravel path ; she heard the voices of two 
 youths at the gate, whUe the rays from three bicycle lamps 
 shone uncannily into the night. 
 
 The front door was then opened and Joey's voice called : 
 
 " Mater ! Mater ! " 
 
 Partly from resentment of his behaviour, chiefly because 
 she wished to discover if he were at aU anxious on her 
 account, she forbore to answer. 
 
 " Mater ! Mater ! " he cried, and louder than before. 
 
 Convinced that he would light the gas and search till he 
 found her, she did not reply. 
 
 To her dismay, Joey called to one of his friends : 
 
 " It's all right. There's no one in. I'U come back with 
 you to supper." 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 OLD ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 On the afternoon of the following Wednesday week, Jeannie 
 disconsolately walked the streets in the neighbourhood of 
 Leicester Square. 
 
 She had impulsively come to town in the vague hope of 
 coming upon Joey, who, in the face of her wishes, had in- 
 sisted on going to stay with his friend Pengelly in Chelsea ; 
 this being an afternoon on which theatrical and music-hall 
 performances were given, she expected he would be visiting 
 one of these places with his friends. 
 
 He had been absent a week, during which time he had 
 only written the shortest of notes asking his mother to send 
 him a cheque for the coveted dress suit ; this, he had 
 declared, was necessary to his social salvation. 
 
 She was not only distressed by Joey's visit to Pengelly, 
 but by fears of his grandfather getting hold of him ; this 
 apprehension had been excited by a conversation that had 
 taken place at luncheon on the Monday following her son's 
 arrival home. 
 
 " What's happened to cousin Lucy ? " Joey had begun. 
 
 " Lucy Hibling ? I haven't seen her for some weeks. I 
 think she's quite well." 
 
 " Is he all right ? " 
 
 " Her husband ? I think so." 
 
 " Rum pair." 
 
 " What makes you say that ? " 
 
 " Look as if they were eaten up with envy and jealousy 
 
 and all the rest of it." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 30B 
 
OLD ACQUAINTANCE 309 
 
 " Look at 'em. But you never see anything, pretty 
 mater. All the world's a sort of heaven to you." 
 
 Joey had belied his mother's powers of observation ; 
 although she would not admit it to Joey, she had seen for 
 herself how the Hiblings' lives had been soured by unful- 
 filled social ambitions. 
 
 WhUe Jeannie had smiled to herself at her son's mis- 
 reading of her perceptions, Joey had continued : 
 
 " Seen anything of grandfather Baverstock ? " 
 
 Jeannie's face had hardened, but before she could reply, 
 he had added : 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Where ? " she had quickly asked. 
 
 " At Salisbury. He came down three times to see me." 
 
 " You never told me," she remarked, as she cut a second 
 helping of meat for her hungry boy. 
 
 " I think he's rather keen on me," Joey had continued, 
 whUe he ignored his mother's remark. " He asked me all 
 sorts of questions about what I was going to do in life." 
 
 " Indeed ! " Jeannie had remarked, while greatly troubled. 
 
 " Why don't you like him ? " 
 
 " How do you know I don't ? " replied Jeannie. 
 
 " You ought to, if only because I'm growing so like 
 him." 
 
 Jeannie started. 
 
 She had noticed, and others, to her annoyance, had 
 pointed out the resemblance ; it was one of the things to 
 which she persistently blinded herself. 
 
 " Don't you think I am ? " continued the boy. 
 
 " Certainly not. You are like your dear father. And 
 before you are influenced by Reuben, I want you to have a 
 serious talk with your grandmother." 
 
 " How is she ? " 
 
 " Not at all well, otherwise she was coming on Saturday." 
 
 " What's up with her ? " 
 
 " No one seems to know." 
 
 " Serious ? " 
 
310 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " I don't know. And then she's worried a good deal by 
 Mabel." 
 
 " Suffragette, ain't she ? " queried the boy. 
 
 To divert his mind from his grandfather, Jeannie gave 
 Joey particulars of Mabel's latest vagary. 
 
 She was now a stout, puffy woman who, after a variety of 
 prepossessions which, for the time being, had expressed her 
 ego, as she was fond of stating, had enthusiastically taken 
 up woman's suffrage. 
 
 She had achieved notoriety, if not fame, amongst the 
 manly women, and womanly men in the movement by her 
 heroism in throwing pepper into the eyes of an inoffensive 
 policeman, and by stabbing (from behind) in the arm a 
 police inspector whUe executing his duty. 
 
 Just then, Ethel had brought in a jam tart which Joey 
 proceeded to serve in a method that dismayed careful- 
 minded Jeannie ; he cut away the edge of pastry before 
 helping himself and his mother to the more appetising part. 
 
 " Joey ! " she remonstrated. 
 
 " What's up now ? " 
 
 " Cutting the tart like that ! It's wicked waste." 
 
 " Anyway, Pengelly does it like that," grumbled Joey. 
 
 " I'm a little tired of hearing so much of your friend 
 Pengelly," declared Jeannie irritably. 
 
 " An3way, I've quite made up my mind to go there on 
 Wednesday." 
 
 " I was hoping you would change your mind," she had 
 ruefully remarked. 
 
 He repeated his intention, but her repeated expostula- 
 tions had no effect upon his resolve. 
 
 As if this were not enough to distress her, he had presently 
 said : 
 
 " And I dare say I shall run against grandfather Baver- 
 stock when I'm in town ! " 
 
 " And if you do ? " Jeannie had tremblingly queried. 
 
 " I expect he'll want to show me round. He's a jolly 
 good sort when he likes." 
 
OLD ACQUAINTANCE 311 
 
 Ever since Joey had gone to Chelsea, Jeannie had dis- 
 mally wondered if Reuben had met her boy, and in that 
 event, if he were influencing him in the direction of a money- 
 grubbing career. 
 
 When she had suddenly decided to come to town, she 
 had dressed with extreme care, as she knew from experience 
 how Joey liked her to look her best before his friends; 
 she had bought a pair of white gloves in the Haymarket. 
 
 She had, also, written out the seven-guinea cheque for 
 the coveted dress suit, and had enclosed it with a letter to 
 Joey ; undecided whether or not she should post it, she 
 had brought it in her bag. 
 
 As she walked, she kept a sharp look-out for her boy 
 either in passing cabs, or among those she encountered on 
 the pavement ; she soon found it necessary to restrain her 
 glances, she presenting such a contrast to the raddled, 
 overdressed women who forgather in that part of London, 
 that she attracted considerable masculine curiosity. 
 
 At last, weary from walking, and regretting her impulsive 
 journey to town, she looked about for where she could get 
 some tea and a rest ; hardly had Jeannie made this resolve 
 when she overheard a woman remark to another as she 
 stopped before a big glass door guarded by a stalwart 
 commissionaire : " We can get some tea in here." 
 
 Longing to sit down, she followed the twain, when she 
 crossed a large hall in which pastries and cakes were dis- 
 played for sale, and men and women were apparently 
 waiting for friends, till her further progress was barred by a 
 big glass partition, while an attendant repeatedly called : 
 
 " Teas on first and second floor." 
 
 She ascended in a crowded lift which disgorged its con- 
 tents immediately outside a vast, irregularly shaped 
 apartment, some of which was built round a semicircular 
 well ; in every direction were crowded tea-tables, while 
 smart waitresses, in order to execute their orders, elbowed 
 their way through those who were waiting for a seat. 
 
 It was with considerable difficulty that Jeannie got a 
 
312 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 vacant place ; being on the edge of the well, it overlooked 
 much of the ground floor, and some of the tea-gallery above, 
 in which was a small orchestra. 
 
 When she had been looking for a seat, she believed she 
 had strayed into one of the expensive tea-shops where they 
 charge a shilling for a cup of tea ; but if she had not looked 
 at the list of charges, which were what is known as 
 " popular," a glance at the company would have sufficed to 
 disabuse her mind of this impression, most of those present 
 being of the homely variety of the species. 
 
 Many at the tea-tables were awed into silence by un- 
 accustomed surroundings, while, on the other hand, there 
 were those who talked in high, nervous voices in order to 
 convey that they were quite at their ease. 
 
 At the same time, the faces of ; the ordinary, nice-looking 
 young women about her gave her something of a shock. 
 
 Compared with the painted, over-dressed harpies she 
 had encountered in the adjacent streets, these daughters 
 of the suburbs seemed exquisite flowers. 
 
 Further scrutiny told her there were exceptions to the 
 simple folk about her. 
 
 Immediately facing her were two youngish men of an 
 unfamiliar type, having gross hooked noses, bulging eyes, 
 and greasy curly hair ; they were frankly overdressed, 
 while their not over -clean fingers were covered with 
 rings. 
 
 They were greatly interested in Jeannie, who studiously 
 avoided looking in their direction. 
 
 As if by way of a make-weight to their vulgar gallantry, 
 the remaining occupant of the table was a plain young 
 woman who had been stared at by men probably for the 
 first time in her life ; she was looking fixedly at the ceiling 
 in an agony of self-conscious rectitude. 
 
 Directly Jeannie had given her simple order, the playing 
 of the orchestra had the effect of stimulating her mental 
 processes ; in a very little while, her mind was again 
 possessed by Joey. 
 
OLD ACQUAINTANCE 313 
 
 Apart from fears with which she was dismally familiar, 
 she realised how slender were the chances of coming upon 
 Joey in London, and even in the circumscribed area 
 devoted to theatrical entertainment ; she half regretted 
 having come to town, although with maternal optimism 
 she believed that by a stroke of good fortune she might 
 yet meet him. 
 
 Tea considerably heartened her, at which she perceived 
 that the two vulgar young men at her table, having given 
 up the idea of attracting her attention as a bad job, were 
 lolling in their chairs with gold-tipped cigarettes between 
 their thick lips. 
 
 Presently, one asked the other : 
 
 " Whath number two doing ? " at which his companion, 
 after glancing across the well, replied : 
 
 " Nothin'." 
 
 " Not looking ? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 A little later, the man who had spoken first asked : 
 
 " Whath number four doing ? " 
 
 His friend looked across the intervening space to the 
 opposite gallery as before ; he then replied : 
 
 " Eating her cake." 
 
 " Looking at me ? " 
 
 " Yeth ! " 
 
 The questioner sprawled in what he believed was a 
 seductive attitude, when Jeannie, who was amused by his 
 antics, divined that number one and number four referred to 
 young women sitting at tables in the opposite gallery 
 corresponding to the figures mentioned. 
 
 Then Jeannie was aware of a broad-shouldered, middle- 
 aged man standing fixedly a few feet from the table at 
 which she sat. 
 
 For all that the waitresses directed him to vacant seats, 
 the place now emptying, he stood his ground, declaring he 
 would sit where he pleased. 
 
 Something dimly familiar in his voice attracted Jeannie's 
 
314 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 attention ; she glanced at him, when his sunburned 
 features awoke vague memories. 
 
 Although she kept her eyes on her plate, she had an idea 
 that the man was staring the two fatuous young men out 
 of countenance in the effort to make them give up their 
 places ; she wondered why he wished to sit at her table. 
 
 She was not left long in doubt. 
 
 When the two offensive young men presently got up, he 
 at once took one of the vacant seats opposite Jeannie ; 
 then, leaning towards her, he startled her by asking : 
 
 " Are you Mrs. Baverstock ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I thought I wasn't wrong. You don't remember me ? " 
 
 " Scarcely ! " 
 
 " My name's Titterton. I was a friend of your father." 
 
 " You Mr. Titterton ? " asked an astonished Jeannie, as 
 she put out her hand. 
 
 " You haven't forgotten me ? " 
 
 " You came to tea at Putney when father was alive, and 
 then I met you " 
 
 " Is Joe dead ? " he interrupted. 
 
 " He died nearly twenty years ago," said Jeannie very 
 gently. 
 
 " Poor old Joe ! " 
 
 She dropped her eyes. 
 
 " If ever there was a good man, he was one," continued 
 Titterton. 
 
 " Then you didn't know ? " she asked. 
 
 He shook his head and was silent for awhile ; suddenly, 
 he told a waitress to bring him coffee before saying with 
 some approach to cheerfulness : 
 
 " I had an idea it was you directly I saw you." 
 
 " Have I altered so little ? " 
 
 Ignoring her question, he went on : 
 
 "That's why I was determined to sit at this table." 
 
 " And what has happened to you in all this long time ? " 
 she asked, not at all displeased at being discovered by one 
 
OLD ACQUAINTANCE 315 
 
 who had admired her in the days of long ago. " You're 
 looking extremely well." 
 
 " Never mind me. Tell me of yourself." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " I wish it," declared Titterton firmly. 
 
 " So much has happened. I don't know where to begin,'' 
 murmured Jeannie. 
 
 " Anyway, you look prosperous, and that's a lot. How 
 is your husband ? " 
 
 " I have no husband." 
 
 He looked at her with questioning eyes. 
 
 " He soon followed Joe," she continued, with trembling 
 lips. 
 
 Titterton sat bolt upright. 
 
 " You are free ? " he sisked eagerly, when he had recovered 
 from his astonishment. 
 
 " I am a widow, if that's what you mean." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " 
 
 He did not speak for quite a long time, at which she said : 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " 
 
 " I scarcely know. I'm trying to get over meeting you 
 when I'd given up hoping finding out what had become of 
 you." 
 
 " Say that again ! " 
 
 " Never mind that now. Any family ? " 
 
 Jeannie told him of Joey. 
 
 " SpoUed him ? " 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " Good boy ? " 
 
 " Y— yes." 
 
 " Why isn't he taking you out this afternoon ? " 
 
 " He's staying with friends." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " London." 
 
 " Friends of yours ? " 
 
 " I'm tired of answering questions," declared Jeannie. 
 " TeU me of yourself." 
 
3i6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Never mind me." 
 
 ' ' What are you doing in London ? I wish to know." 
 
 " Amusing myself, and spending money." 
 
 " Aren't they both the same thing ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I hope you're not throwing away money youll want 
 later on." 
 
 " I've more than enough for myself. Besides, I deserve 
 a bit of a fling. I've worked." 
 
 It was only after considerable persuasion that Jeannie got 
 out of him particulars of his life since he had left England. 
 It appeared he had had a hard time for several years, having 
 worked as a labourer in Canada before going to the States, 
 where, amongst other things, he had driven a cab, scene- 
 shifted at theatres, and been a waiter. 
 
 He had saved a little money in these occupations, with 
 "which he had successfully speculated, buying Canadian 
 land and selling it at a profit ; ultimately, he had bought 
 a partnership in a prosperous typewriting business which 
 last he had represented in various European countries. 
 
 He had recently realised his money which he had care- 
 fully invested, making large profits in the rubber boom 
 amongst other things, and now, being a man of means and 
 leisure, was wondering what to do with his time. 
 
 When he had finished his account of his doings, he said : 
 
 " Beyond learning how to make and keep money — two 
 very different things — I've struck one or two truths which 
 I don't mind telling you. 
 " WeU ? " she smUed. 
 
 " That the whole duty of man is to keep the sharpest of 
 look-out for number one." 
 
 " That sounds dreadfully selfish." 
 
 " No doubt to the person who has never known what it 
 is to be hungry. Another thing is that all this altruistic 
 stuff that is preached nowadays is only so much un- 
 adulterated piffle. The race is to the swift, the battle to 
 the strong. And a good thing too." 
 
OLD ACQUAINTANCE 317 
 
 " It's time I was getting on," she said, collecting her 
 belongings. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he asked, as he took up the bit 
 of paper the waitress had given Jeannie, on which was 
 scrawled the amount she had to pay for her tea. 
 
 " I scarcely know. And you ? " 
 
 " I scarcely know." 
 
 They left the building, when she was not a little gratified 
 at seeing the extreme care Titterton took of her, he pilot- 
 ing her through the people who were coming in to dinner as 
 if she were some rare and precious thing. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A SURPRISE 
 
 Outside, in Coventry Street, the press was such that con- 
 versation was dif&cult ; when unable to talk, Jeannie, so 
 far as her excitement at meeting unexpectedly an old 
 friend would permit, found herself appraising the wide 
 gulf which separated the Titterton of to-day from the 
 down-at-heel railway clerk she had known in the long ago. 
 
 It Wcis not the fact of his being possessed of money which 
 made the difference, she told herself ; rather it was the 
 enterprise, endurance, foresight, and pluck he had ex- 
 hibited of which ample means were the concrete ex- 
 pression. 
 
 Whatever he had been in the past, Titterton, she told 
 herself, was now a man. 
 
 " Where are you living ? " he asked, when they arrived 
 at Piccadilly Circus. 
 
 She told him. 
 
 " Not in this direction ? " 
 
 " I'm in no hurry to get back." 
 
 " Shall we walk down Piccadilly ? " 
 
 She assented ; not only did she find a certain relaxation 
 from her fears concerning Joey in Titterton's company, 
 but she had not abandoned hope of seeing something of her 
 boy before she returned home. 
 
 They had not gone very far when, almost before she 
 knew what had happened, he had shepherded her into the 
 grill-room of an expensive restaurant. 
 
 " Why did you bring me here ? " she asked, when they 
 
 were seated. 
 
 318 
 
A SURPRISE 319 
 
 " To get something to eat. You have to dress for the 
 other part. But we can talk all right here." 
 
 He pressed her to have all sorts of luxuries ; when she 
 had made known her simple wants, he gave his orders to 
 the foreign waiter with unnecessary sharpness, at least, 
 so Jeannie thought. 
 
 When the man had gone, he muttered under his 
 breath : 
 
 " Curse these foreigners ! " 
 
 " Don't you like them ? " 
 
 " They're all right in their own country, but for every 
 foreigner here, it means a Britisher out of a job," he de- 
 clared emphatically. 
 
 " Is that so ? " 
 
 " And I'll teU you something else. Every article 
 bought of foreign manufacture means doing a good turn to 
 a potential enemy." 
 
 " Are you going in for politics ? " 
 
 " I don't know. But I am patriotic." 
 
 A little later, he put down his knife and fork as if lost in 
 thought. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " I was thinking how I used to talk to you and your father 
 about good dinners." 
 
 " What of it ? " 
 
 " You remember ? What a fool you must have thought 
 me. But after all said and done, the memory of those feeds 
 kept me going when I'd have fought a dog for offal in the 
 gutter." 
 
 Food, drink, companionship moved Jeannie to speak of 
 what was nearest to her heart ; very soon, she had confided 
 to Titterton her difficulties regarding the career she wished 
 Joey to follow. 
 
 " So he doesn't want to be a parson ! " he asked, when she 
 had done. 
 
 " I'm afraid not." 
 
 " That shows the boy's something in him." 
 
320 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " I thought you'd sympathise with me," she pouted. 
 
 " That parson game is all very well if one's deep con- 
 victions and one takes one's coat off, as it were, and works 
 among the poor. But to be the ordinary drivelling parson 
 is a contemptible game for any one who's the least self- 
 respect. Why are you so keen on it ? " 
 
 " I want him to be safeguarded from vulgar temptations," 
 explained Jeannie. 
 
 " Much better let him go out into the world and shift for 
 himself." 
 
 " But you don't understand " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " My boy is different to all other boys." 
 
 " Naturally," said Titterton, without relaxing a muscle. 
 " I should like to meet him." 
 
 "You shall." 
 
 An incident presently occurred that pleased and dismayed 
 Jeannie. 
 
 An elderly man at an adjacent table persistently eyed her, 
 which noticing, Titterton turned and stared defiantly at the 
 offender before saying : 
 
 " If he doesn't look out, he'U get a thump in the jaw." 
 
 " S — sh ! " remonstrated Jeannie. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " That would be dreadful." 
 
 " For him. That's another thing I've picked up abroad : 
 how to hit jolly hard." 
 
 Jeannie, during her years of widowhood, had lived her 
 life among trivial people who would have recoiled with 
 horror from any suggestion of any one violently taking the 
 law into his own hands. 
 
 She had involuntarily absorbed their gentle predilections, 
 which was, perhaps, the reason of her disliking old Baver- 
 stock, he having scant regard for other people's feelings, and 
 taking the shortest cut, compatible with his age, to what 
 he wanted. 
 
 At the same time, the novelty of Titterton's forcefuhiess. 
 
A SURPRISE 321 
 
 together with the possibility of its being exerted on her 
 behalf, disposed her in his favour. 
 
 " You're quite a savage," she smiled. 
 
 " Pity there's not a few more like me," he retorted. 
 
 When she was putting on her gloves before going, he 
 said : 
 
 " What time do you want to get back ? " 
 
 "Anytime. Why?" 
 
 " Fd some idea of going down to Chelsea." 
 
 Jeannie pricked up her little ears at the mention of the 
 place where Joey was staying. 
 
 " Why Chelsea ? " she asked. 
 
 " I'm sick of living at an hotel. I thought of seeing if I 
 could get rooms in the same house in Chelsea where a friend 
 of mine lives." 
 
 " Chelsea isn't very far," she remarked. 
 
 " I was wondering if you'd care to come," he suggested. 
 
 " Will you take care of me if I do ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I'll take care of you. I think I'm equal to that." 
 
 They went in a taxicab and, during their progress, she 
 kept a sharp look-out for Joey, refusing to consider how 
 much the chances were against her seeing him. 
 
 They alighted in the King's Road^ when, for the life of 
 him, Titterton could not remember the name of the street 
 where his friend had taken lodgings. 
 
 " It's all your fault," declared Titterton. " Meeting with 
 you has knocked everything else clean out of my head." 
 
 " There's no harm in looking about," declared Jeannie, 
 ever hopeful of coming upon Joey. 
 
 They turned up a side street where the seeking for apart- 
 ments was promptly forgotten ; they walked aimlessly, 
 each being occupied with their thoughts. 
 
 Presently, Jeannie found herself telling her friend of her 
 differences with Joey respecting the dress suit. 
 
 " Why shouldn't he have one ? " asked Titterton. 
 
 " He can have anything he wants. But what I complain 
 of is that he goes off and never lets me know how he is." 
 21 
 
322 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Goes off where ? " 
 
 " To objectionable friends." 
 
 Titterton's questions elicited how anxious she was to 
 get definite news of him ; also, how he had merely written 
 to ask for a cheque to pay for the clothes he wanted. 
 
 " Sent it ? " he asked. 
 
 " I've my letter and cheque in my bag. I couldn't make 
 up my mind." 
 
 " May I see it ? " 
 
 She complied with his request, at which he took the letter 
 and said : 
 
 " Before I give it back, you must promise not to send it." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " You'll have him home at once if you do as I tell you." 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " 
 
 " I'm certain." 
 
 " I promise then." 
 
 He returned the letter and they again walked as before, 
 when she noticed how he was constantly looking at her. 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " he asked presently. 
 
 " Joey and " 
 
 " Yes ! " he said, as she hesitated. 
 
 " I was thinking how strange it was my meeting you after 
 all these years." 
 
 " This is only the beginning," he asserted. 
 
 She looked at him with questioning eyes. 
 
 " Can't you guess ? " 
 
 He spoke so earnestly that she said : 
 
 " It's getting on. If you're not going to do what you 
 came for, I'd better be going back." 
 
 " Please yourself. But I beheve, after all, this is the 
 street I'm looking for." 
 
 Most of the houses had a card announcing " Furnished 
 apartments to let " in the windows. 
 
 " I'll try this one," said Titterton, selecting a house. 
 
 " Is it for you, or are you looking for your friend ? " 
 
 " Both." 
 
A SURPRISE 323 
 
 " Because the window curtains there are dirty." 
 
 " Try this one then," he said, as he went to the next 
 house. 
 
 Accompanied by Jeannie, he walked up the steps and 
 knocked at the door, which was presently opened by a 
 harried-looking servant. 
 
 " Does Mr. Hulvert live here ? " asked Titterton. 
 
 " What say ? " 
 
 " I, also, want to see about some rooms." 
 
 " Please to come inside." 
 
 " What is it, Sarah ? " asked a harsh woman's voice 
 from the farther end of the hall. 
 
 " Lady and gentleman for rooms, miss," replied the 
 servant. 
 
 Jeannie and Titterton were shown into a dark room on 
 the right ; when the gas was lit, they found themselves 
 face to face with a tall, snub-nosed woman with dirty- 
 white hair ; her hard expression suggested heartlessness 
 and greed ; for all her uninviting appearance, there was 
 something about her that was vaguely familiar to Jeanniea 
 
 " What do you require ? " asked the landlady sharply. 
 
 " I might be wanting rooms," replied Titterton. 
 
 " For this lady and yourself ? " 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " We charge extra for husband and wife as ladies give so 
 much more trouble than gentlemen." 
 
 " As it happens, it's for myself," replied Titterton 
 curtly. 
 
 " Then this lady is not your wife ? " 
 
 " No such luck. But I want bedroom, sitting>room, 
 use of bathroom, cooking, and attendance. How much for 
 the lot ? " 
 
 "Thirty shillings a week," repHed the landlady, after 
 rapidly appraising Titterton. 
 
 " That seems all right," he declared, as another tall, 
 snub-nosed old woman, also with dirty-white hair, put 
 her head in at the door. 
 
324 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Come in, Elsie," said the landlady to this person. 
 " Here's a gentleman come about rooms." 
 
 The other woman entered, at which Jeannie perceived 
 that, although she bore a strong likeness to the landlady, 
 she was a trifle stouter than the other and scarcely so 
 rapacious looking ; she, also, excited indistinct memories 
 in Jeannie's mind. 
 
 " I'll have a look at the rooms, and if I like 'em, I'll 
 probably take 'em," said Titterton, at which a visit of 
 inspection was paid to the apartments that were to 
 let. 
 
 While this took place, Jeannie became more and more 
 possessed of an idea that she had met the lodging-house- 
 keepers before. 
 
 " Thirty shillings a week ? " asked Titterton, when they 
 had returned to the room he and Jeannie had been shown 
 into. 
 
 " Of course there are extras," hazarded the first woman 
 they had interviewed. " If jou have late dinners, it's 
 three shiUings a week extra." 
 
 " What ? " cried Titterton. 
 
 " We might do it for two, Laura," faltered the stouter 
 woman. 
 
 " Three, Elsie. I always charge three. Coals are a 
 shilling a scuttle " 
 
 " Isn't that rather a lot ? " asked Jeannie, who did not 
 want her friend to be imposed upon. 
 
 " If coal gets cheaper, we might do it for ninepence," 
 put in the less rapacious-looking woman. 
 
 " Coals, a shilUng a scuttle," reiterated the other 
 firmly. " Hot baths, sixpence each ; and for every 
 jug of hot water that is carried upstairs we charge a 
 
 penny." 
 
 Jeannie plucked Titterton's sleeve and whispered to 
 him that the woman was making absurdly extortionate 
 charges. 
 
 Divining what was toward, the woman said : 
 
A SURPRISE 32s 
 
 " I should like you to know we come of a most respected 
 family, and we lived independent in Putney for a great 
 many years, didn't we, Elsie ? " 
 
 " Yes, Laura, till we lost aU our money in speculation." 
 
 " And had to come down to this. Even now, there 
 must be people still living in Putney who can tell you how 
 respected the Miss Hitches were." 
 
 " Our name," explained the other, " will stand every 
 investigation." 
 
 Thus it was that Jeannie learned how the lodging-house- 
 keepers had been friends of her youth, although she could 
 scarcely credit the change that had been wrought in them- 
 selves and their surroundings by their fight for existence. 
 
 She was about to say who she was, but changed her mind, 
 believing that to reveal her identity would cause the sisters 
 pain. 
 
 In order that she might not be recognised, she, so far as 
 it was possible, averted her face from their gaze. 
 
 Even as, in taking her departure, she caught a further 
 glimpse of their hard, grasping features, a vision arose to her 
 mind of their comfortable home in Putney, and the picture 
 of unsophisticated domesticity the two spinsters had 
 presented. 
 
 The shock of coming upon them again, and in such 
 different circumstances, troubled her mind during the 
 journey to Liverpool Street in which she was accompanied 
 by Titterton. 
 
 He marvelled at her persistent silence, but when he 
 questioned her regarding this, she told him of her former 
 friendship with the two lodging-house harpies. 
 
 Even after she had given this information, she could not 
 get them out of her mind. 
 
 " StiU thinking about your old friends ? " he asked, as he 
 stood by her carriage door at Liverpool Street. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Don't let it bother you. One's enough troubles of one's 
 own without worrying about other people's." 
 
326 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " I was wondering if I had changed in the same way," 
 she smiled. 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Are you serious ? " 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Shall I tell you how you appear to me ? " he asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 She did not reply, at which he said : 
 
 " As I expected to find you after all these years. The 
 Jeannie I loved ; the tender, ever beautiful Jeannie I'd have 
 given my life for." 
 
 His words persisted in filling her mind, not only during 
 the tedious journey home, but until she fell asleep. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 "PYRACANTHA" AGAIN 
 
 Titterton's suggestion with regard to keeping back Joey's 
 cheque for the dress suit had, to Jeannie's unconcealed 
 delight, the desired effect, he arriving unexpectedly one 
 morning about twelve. 
 
 Titterton was with Jeannie (he had called every day 
 since their meeting in the tea-shop) and he had been telling 
 her how he was occupying much of the spare time he had 
 on his hands. 
 
 He had taken up the study of recent European history, 
 and had brought with him to read in the train a volume 
 of Busch's Life of Bismarck. 
 
 She had asked him why he had selected this subject, at 
 which he had replied : 
 
 " Who knows ! One of these days, I may go in for 
 politics. If I do, I'll make some of them ' sit up.' " 
 
 " Indeed ! " she had smiled. 
 
 " By telling 'em a few home truths of the danger the 
 country is in." 
 
 Any explanation of what was in his mind was prevented 
 by Joey's arrival. 
 
 He came in a cab, at which Jeannie hastened to the gate 
 to greet him ; it seemed to Titterton, who was watching 
 from the window, that the young man was not in the best 
 of tempers, which indeed was the case. 
 
 The driver carried his bag into the hall ; after Jeannie 
 had paid him, she came into the room with her son, when 
 the latter was astonished at finding a man in the house. 
 
 Jeannie explained to Joey who Titterton was and how 
 
328 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 she had met him again ; before the two men shook hands, 
 each swiftly appraised the other. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, dearest," exclaimed Jeannie, 
 whose face was aglow with gladness. 
 
 " That's all right," declared Joey off-handedly. 
 
 " I didn't expect you nearly so soon." 
 
 " You didn't write, so I had to come." 
 
 " What sort of a time have you had in London ? " 
 
 " Rotten." 
 
 " I am sorry." 
 
 " And you know whom I have to thank. Couldn't go 
 anywhere decent in the evening because I'd nothing to 
 wear." 
 
 " Yes, dear, but " 
 
 " And as I was having such a rotten time, I thought 
 the best thing I could do was to come home." 
 
 " Complimentary to your mother," remarked Tittertou, 
 who was raging at the boy's discourtesy to Jeannie. 
 
 Joey glared angrily at him, shrugged his shoulders, and 
 went to the window, where he stood with his back to the 
 others, his hands in his trouser pockets. 
 
 " Is all this fuss about that confounded dress suit ? " 
 asked Titterton of Jeannie. 
 
 She shook her head as if wishing him to avoid the 
 subject ; ignoring her admonition, he said to Joey : 
 
 " If I were your mother, I'd see you to blazes before 
 you had your dress suit." 
 
 The young man turned and angrily faced him. 
 
 Titterton imperturbably continued : 
 
 " And if I were your father, I'd hoof you out of doors 
 till you learned better manners." 
 
 " But you're not — ^see " 
 
 " Which is lucky for you," interrupted Titterton. 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " Which is lucky for you." 
 
 " I don't want any interfering cheek from you, 
 and " 
 
"PYRACANTHA" AGAIN 329 
 
 He stopped short, for Titterton was advancing upon him 
 with more than a suggestion of menace in his bearing. 
 
 Jeannie attempted to interfere, but Titterton put her 
 gently on one side before going up to Joey, who, with 
 flushed face, somewhat nervously stood his ground. When 
 the other reached him, he patted him lightly on the 
 shoulder and said : 
 
 " That's all right. I like to see a youngster who isn't 
 afraid. Doing anything to-morrow night ? " 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because I want you to dine with me in town." 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " We'll go to the Caf6 Royal, and after we'll go to the 
 Empire. No theatre for me ; they're too dull. And 
 after we've had supper at the Savoy, I'll put you up at my 
 hotel." 
 
 The boy looked at his mother with questioning eyes. 
 
 " Go if you want to, dear," she said, a little distressed at 
 the tale of dissipation which was so unblushingly unfolded. 
 " Your grandmother isn't very well. I'll probably spend 
 the night in Putney." 
 
 " But I should have to dress," declared Joey, " and " 
 
 " Your mother's going to let you have a dress suit. 
 And as for to-morrow night, we shaU manage somehow," 
 declared Titterton. 
 
 Thus peace was made. It was cemented by Titterton 
 going into the village and buying the three lobsters on 
 sale in the fish shop and making the most wonderful 
 lobster salad for luncheon ; as if this were not enough, he 
 hired a bicycle and insisted on Joey taking him for a 
 ride, when he talked in the most worldly fashion of the 
 best career for the latter to select, a subject that the young 
 man keenly debated. 
 
 When Titterton left with his volume of Busch, Joey 
 confided to his mother that " Her old pal wasn't half a 
 bad sort," but for all this admission, he was still suspicious 
 of the other's intentions. 
 
330 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 When Jeannie and Joey got out at Liverpool Street on 
 the following afternoon, they found Titterton impatiently 
 awaiting them ; he, at once, attached himself to Jeannie, 
 and when it became necessary for her to leave him, he was 
 obviously loth to lose sight of her ; before she went, she 
 repeatedly begged him to look after Joey ; she, also, made 
 him promise to ring her up on the telephone at " Pyra- 
 cantha " on the morrow to tell her how they had got on 
 and to arrange for their return, she intending to remain 
 but one night with her relations. 
 
 As she drove through a Putney that was altogether alien 
 to the suburb she had known in her youth, memories of 
 those far-away days crowded thick and fast upon her. 
 
 Recollections of her childhood, her ever-dearest Joe, 
 invaded her mind ; she was not at all sorry when the cab 
 drew up at " Pyracantha," when, for aU the fact of its 
 having been Edgar's home, the necessity of talking to Mabel, 
 who, for a wonder, was in, for a time diverted her mind 
 from its sorrows. 
 
 Although Mabd hked Jeannie for old association's sake, 
 she frankly despised her for her maternal ideals, labelling 
 her as a " cow " woman ; at the same time, she was glad 
 to see her ; she regarded her sister-in-law as one to be 
 easily and immensely shocked with what she beheved 
 were her advanced ideas. 
 
 Years had not enhanced Mabel's physical parts, which 
 had never been such as to call for remark, she being short, 
 stout, and with a dissatisfied expression. 
 
 Jeannie at once asked after her mother-in-law, to learn 
 that she was seriously iU ; although Mabel was communi. 
 cative enough about herself, or would have been if Jeannie 
 had suffered her egotistical confidences, she was reticent 
 when it was a question of admitting what was amiss with 
 her mother. 
 
 Jeannie took the earliest opportunity of going upstairs, 
 when she was shocked at the change that had occurred in 
 Mrs. Baverstock since she had last seen her ; always a 
 
"PYRACANTHA" AGAIN 331 
 
 frail-looking woman, she now looked so pitfuUy weak 
 that it seemed as if the merest puff of wind would blow 
 out the lamp of her life ; she was apparently smaller than 
 ever ; her snow-white hair was sjonboUcal of the holiness 
 of her Ufe. 
 
 She received Jeannie in her dressing-gown and apologised 
 for not being more appropriately dressed. 
 
 Jeannie made many efforts to find out what was the 
 matter with Mrs. Baverstock, but the latter consistently 
 avoided speaking of herself and was full of inquiries 
 respecting her daughter-in-law and grandson. 
 
 Jeannie did not need much encouragement to speak of 
 Joey ; very soon, she was pouring into sjrmpathetic ears her 
 manifold fears respecting Joey's future, more particularly in 
 the Ught of his recent doings, which she narrated at length- 
 
 " It's youth all over," declared Mrs. Baverstock, when 
 Jeannie had done. " It wiU never hsten to those wiser 
 than themselves. It always has been so and doubtless 
 wiU ever be the same." 
 
 " I don't want your husband to get hold of him. That 
 would mean he would never do as I wish," sighed Jeannie. 
 
 " What makes you think he might ? " 
 
 " He's been down to see him at Salisbury." 
 
 " He never told me anything about it." 
 
 " That's what makes me think he's pleinning something," 
 complained Jeannie. " Does he ever mention Joey to 
 you ? " 
 
 " I've seen so little of Reuben since I've been ill, and 
 when I mention him he changes the subject." 
 
 " But your husband is fond of him." 
 
 " Very, dear. And that's what makes me fear," sighed 
 Mrs. Baverstock. 
 
 They were each occupied with their thoughts for awhile ; 
 presently, Mrs. Baverstock said : 
 
 " That's why my illness troubles me so much. If I'd 
 been weU enough to come over and see you, we might 
 between us have been able to influence Joey." 
 
332 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Jeannie made a further effort to discover what was 
 amiss with her mother-in-law, but the latter gently changed 
 the subject. 
 
 A little later, they, of one accord, visited Edgar's room, 
 which was unaltered from what it had been when he had 
 used it ; his mother kept the key, which she now only made 
 use of in Jeannie's company. 
 
 It was a pilgrimage the latter always dreaded by reason 
 of the acute suffering she experienced when in its familiar 
 precincts ; to-day, however, her apprehensions with 
 regard to Joey and the sick woman she supported prevented 
 her from appreciating to the full the room's dolorous 
 appeal. 
 
 Circumstance was not so merciful to Mrs. Baverstock, 
 for, presently, her body trembled with emotion, at which 
 Jeannie sought to comfort her with a caress. 
 
 " I shall never get over it — never," moaned the old 
 woman. " And if it is so much to me, what must it be 
 to you ? " 
 
 Jeannie pressed her hand and sought to urge her from 
 the room. 
 
 " Our children never, never know how much they are 
 to us, what we have done for them, the measure of our 
 love," she added, before she suffered her daughter-in-law 
 to assist her downstairs. 
 
 Back in her room, Mrs. Baverstock seemed more dis- 
 posed to talk of herself, a disposition Jeannie encouraged. 
 
 " Sometimes I believe I don't wish to live, wicked as it 
 sounds," she presently said. " Perhaps I should rather 
 say I am reconciled to going when it pleases God to take 
 me. Things are not what they were, dear, as I dare say 
 you have found for yourself. I may be wrong, foolishly 
 wrong, but the world seems altering for the worse. Women 
 are different to what they were ; instead of living for their 
 dear ones, they only seem to live for self. And books 
 are written and widely read, and things are spoken of 
 openly which would never have been tolerated years ago. 
 
"PYRACANTHA" AGAIN 333 
 
 But I'm quite willing to admit that I am in the wrong, 
 and am worn out, and the burden of life is too much for 
 me, and that there is nothing wrong with all the new 
 things one reads about. But, apart from all that, I should 
 like to see my boy's boy settled safely from temptation 
 in the calling we wish him to follow." 
 
 Jeannie would not leave the invalid till the last possible 
 moment as she wished the time she spent with Reuben 
 to be as short as possible. 
 
 Although BeviU and the wife he had lately married 
 were expected to dinner, they had not yet arrived when 
 she entered the drawing-room at a few minutes to eight 
 and found the master of the house standing with his back 
 to the fire. 
 
 His appearance was now so remarkable that, were 
 she not acquainted with his personality, it would have 
 given her something of a shock. 
 
 Reuben was now quite bald save for a fringe of hair about 
 the lower part of his head ; this should have been white but 
 had been indifferently dyed black. His face was covered 
 with a network of tiny wrinkles, whUe unwholesome- 
 looking pouches bagged beneath eyes which still looked 
 from beneath shaggy eyebrows with a furtive brilliance. 
 
 He had a disgustingly large stomach ; otherwise, his 
 limbs seemed to have shrivelled. 
 
 Dressed for dinner to welcome his relation, he looked hke 
 a very old, very wary bird of prey who, for unnumbered 
 years, had cunningly evaded his many enemies and con- 
 tinually gorged himself to repletion on a variety of loath- 
 some foods. 
 
 His eyes were glued to Jeannie, who had never quite lost 
 her awe of her father-in-law, directly he saw her ; he greeted 
 her by saying : 
 
 " Ah ! My ever-sweet-Jeannie ! Would we were dining 
 alone ! " 
 
 " Don't you want to see BeviU and his wife ? " 
 
 Ignoring her question, he went on : 
 
334 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " It would be May and December, but what matter ! 
 Although May would be bored, the heart of December 
 would be gladdened." 
 
 " What nonsense ! More like October and December," 
 remarked Jeannie. 
 
 " The nearer the better," he declared unblushingly. 
 
 " I have been aU the afternoon upstairs," she said, eager 
 to change the subject, and at the same time discover Mrs. 
 Baverstock's ailment. 
 
 " Terrible ! Terrible ! " 
 
 " Is it so bad as that ? " asked an alarmed Jeannie. 
 
 " Didn't Mabel tell you ? " 
 
 "No. What is it?" 
 
 " The very worst that could befall any one. There was 
 talk of an operation, but the specialists feared it would be 
 too much for her." 
 
 " Is it a growth ? " fearfully asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Yes. Don't ask me any more. It's too dreadful even 
 to think about." 
 
 Here, he theatrically waved his arms as if eager to 
 dismiss from his mind a dread matter which threatened to 
 lessen his vitality. 
 
 Jeannie ignored this desire as she asked : 
 
 "Does she know ? " 
 
 " No, thank Heaven." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Night and morning she thanks God it is not what we 
 know it to be." 
 
 Although for the remaining minutes they were together 
 Reuben sought to make himself agreeable to Jeannie, she 
 replied to his sallies with absent-minded monosyllables ; 
 her thoughts were with the little old woman upstairs who 
 had been sentenced to a cruel death. 
 
 Having, largely for Joey's sake, cultivated a devout habit 
 of mind, she had accepted the facts of life as divinely 
 ordained. 
 Now, she insistently asked herself what good purpose 
 
"PYRACANTHA" AGAIN 335 
 
 could be served by mercilessly inflicting such brutal agony 
 upon a pathetically frail woman whose long life had been 
 crowded with tender thought for others. 
 
 No answer being forthcoming, she fell to raging inwardly, 
 which emotion was interrupted by the arrival of Bevill and 
 his wife, Evangeline, the latter of whom she had met 
 before. 
 
 Although Evangeline was the only daughter of a weU-to- 
 do turtle merchant, there were none of the suggestions 
 evoked by her father's occupation in her appearance, she 
 being a tall, scraggy, ungainly woman with a long, lean 
 neck. 
 
 She was, also, plain with boiled green eyes, but by way of 
 compensating for these defects she affected enthusiasm for 
 what she called the colour in life and nature. 
 
 She did not look very clean ; her hair was untidily 
 done ; she had seemingly thrown a costly Liberty frock 
 over her lathe-Uke figure. 
 
 Hardly had she sat down to dinner when she violently 
 started, before gazing as if enthralled at the daffodils 
 decorating the table, a proceeding that considerably 
 disconcerted old Baverstock, who latterly suffered from 
 nerves. 
 
 Several times during the meal she, when least expected, 
 repeated this performance with regard to any and every 
 thing which attracted her attention ; it was obvious to 
 Jeannie that the woman's antics interfered with her father- 
 in-law's enjoyment of his food. 
 
 BeviU, being lost in admiration of his wife, said next to 
 nothing, consequently, until the wine ultimately reached 
 the colour enthusiast's head and unloosed her tongue, 
 the conversation was chiefly between Reuben and Jeannie. 
 
 When Evangeline joined in, she talked a jargon of 
 Christian science, declaring at length that pain and sorrow 
 did not exist, being but figments of a sick imagination. 
 
 As Evangeline spoke, an unusual thing happened to 
 ordinarily tranquH-minded Jeannie ; she briefly thought 
 
336 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 of the sufferer upstairs, of the pains both physical and 
 mental she, herself, had known ; then, in the twinkling of an 
 eye, she was filled with scarcely controllable rage against 
 one whom she regarded as a posing scarecrow, who had had 
 no experience of life comparable to hers. 
 
 Her anger lasted till she left the dining-room, when, 
 disregarding Evangeline and Mabel, who had come in late to 
 dinner, she hastened upstairs to Mrs. Baverstock. 
 
 The latter was now in the big double bed, where, in the 
 spread of sheet and counterpane, she looked, in her diminu- 
 tive isolation, a beuig of infinite pathos. 
 
 Jeannie remained with her till she, herself, went to bed ; 
 her concern for the doomed woman's extremity was such 
 that her mind was only at intervals concerned with her boy. 
 
 The next morning, Jeannie remained with the sufferer 
 tiU she was summoned to the telephone to speak to Joey, 
 who told his anxious mother how he had had the best of 
 times with Titterton ; he, also, arranged to meet her at 
 Charing Cross (underground) railway station at one o'clock 
 in order to take her home. 
 
 Reuben having gone to the City, she would have preferred 
 Joey to call for her at " Pyracantha," and at the same time 
 see his grandmother, but as he did not wish to come so far 
 she fell in with his wishes. 
 
 Jeannie took a tender farewell of her mother-in-law, 
 promising to come soon and often, and set out for Charing 
 Cross station with some approach to a light heart, in the 
 hope of shortly seeing Joey. 
 
 Arrived at the place of meeting, disappointment awaited 
 her, a heavy-eyed Titterton, who was pacing up and down 
 outside the station, informing her that Joey had suddenly 
 made up his mind to visit the friends he had been staying 
 with, and had not the least idea when he would return 
 home. 
 
 Jeannie concealed her chagrin as well as she was able, 
 and asked : 
 
 " What sort of a time did you have last night ? " 
 
"PYRACANTHA" AGAIN 33; 
 
 " AU right." 
 
 " Did Joey enjoy himself ? " 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 " You looked after him ? " 
 
 " You can trust me for that," repUed Titterton, who, 
 as he escorted Jeannie to where they could have luncheon, 
 gave her a short account of the evening's doings. 
 
 What he did not tell her was that he had enjoyed himself 
 quite as much as Joey, having let himself go ; he had 
 drunk more than was good for him and, to his companion's 
 delight, had shown a man who picked a quarrel with him 
 how hard he could hit. 
 
 They did not say very much while they ate, or on the way 
 home, Jeannie being depressed by reason of Joey's defection 
 and consequently discouraging conversation. 
 
 He accompanied her indoors where, after she had taken 
 off her things and come downstairs, he sat intently regarding 
 her. 
 
 She addressed one or two remarks to which he did not 
 reply ; she then saw he was violently trembling. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she asked. 
 
 " You." 
 
 She looked at him with questioning eyes, at which he 
 went on : 
 
 " You, you. I have never forgotten you, but since I have 
 found you are free, I've allowed you to get in my blood." 
 
 " You mean " 
 
 " What else than you are to be mine after all : that " 
 
 His agitation was such that he was unable to complete 
 his sentence. 
 
 She had risen at his avowal, but she now sat as if lost 
 in pained thought. 
 
 His words disturbed her not a little, but even as she 
 strove to realise their full import, there came into her 
 mind a vision of a tumbledown, old-world cottage before 
 which was a level stretch of meadow ; a stream wound 
 through this, its course being apparently staked out by 
 22 
 
338 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 pollard willows, and, beyond, the ground fell away to 
 where the river, like a great grey serpent, wound from 
 London to the sea. 
 
 It was in this place that she had moved and had her 
 being in the magic atmosphere engendered by the loved 
 one's presence. 
 
 " Well ? " he said, when he could no longer bear the 
 suspense. 
 
 The emotion begotten of these memories was such that 
 she could not trust herself to speak. 
 
 Instead, she shook her head, at which, without saying a 
 word, he came over and kissed her hair before leaving the 
 house. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 
 
 Although Jeannie had refused Titterton, his declaration 
 of love had unlooked-for consequences so far as she was 
 concerned. 
 
 Almost in spite of herself, she found herself taking more 
 than a passing interest in her appearance, worrying for no 
 reason at aJl about her figure and complexion ; she ordered 
 some almost gay and very becoming frocks ; infrequent 
 grey hairs were no longer discernible in her head. 
 
 More significant, however, were the mental changes 
 Jeannie knew, of which her little vanities concerning 
 frocks and frills, and anxieties respecting grey hairs were 
 the outward and visible sign. 
 
 Titterton's friendship had of itself disturbed the placid 
 stream of her uneventful fife, and had already half-awakened 
 her to the existence of unsuspected deeps and currents. 
 
 Save for her abiding love for Joey, she had beUeved 
 herself immune from strong emotion ; her sudden wrath 
 with EvangeHne at her father-in-law's dinner-table had 
 been a symptom of what was toward in her being. 
 
 Titterton's love avowal had rudely shattered her remain- 
 ing self-complacency with regard to her permanent escape 
 from the eternal capacity for loving of the desirable female. 
 
 The fact of Joey having returned home, and of his at 
 least listening to her admonitions respecting his future, 
 enabled her mind to occupy itself fully with the sex obsession 
 which had invaded it. 
 
 Often, she was assailed by an insidious suggestion which 
 urged that she was a fool to give so much thought to Joey, 
 
340 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 she having a duty she owed her still alluring self ; 
 that the days of her comeliness being numbered, it would 
 be madness not to gather the roses while she yet might. 
 
 For all that these insinuations frightened her, she, so far 
 as it was possible, avoided looking at Edgar's photograph. 
 
 When free from the attacks, she wondered at their 
 manifestations ; she did not know that, when subject 
 to them, she was but obeying an instinct of nature which 
 impels middle-aged women, and men for that matter, to 
 experience once more the joys and pains of love. 
 
 She often thought of Titterton, who, for all that she 
 had refused him, was still constantly about her, when he 
 made no reference to what had occurred on reaching 
 home from Putney. 
 
 Perplexed by her feelings for her admirer, anxious to 
 discover how much or how little she cared for him, she, 
 one day, when assailed by the promptings of her blood, 
 compared the sentiment he had excited with her old-time 
 passion for her husband, to discover that the two emotions 
 were not remotely comparable. 
 
 She had adored Edgar while, so far as she could see at 
 present, she had something between a warm friendship, 
 begotten of old acquaintance, and a supremely tender 
 regard for the man who wished to marry her. 
 
 If it did nothing else, the comparison told her that never 
 again, if she lived to the age of a thousand, would she care 
 for another man as she had loved Edgar. 
 
 Then, certain words of her husband recurred to her, 
 when he had told her that in aU love affairs there is one 
 who loves whUe the other is loved. 
 
 She had worshipped Edgar with every fibre in her being, 
 and she had many times asked herself in the old days if 
 she were the lover, he the beloved. 
 
 Whether or not this were so, there was no denying the 
 existence of this situation where Titterton was concerned. 
 
 At the same time, she was pleased when he was with 
 her, fretful if she fancied he neglected her. 
 
TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 341 
 
 For all these conflicting prepossessions, she made a 
 point of going to " Pyracantha " as often as possible in 
 order to comfort her failing mother-in-law with her 55^1- 
 pathy. 
 
 Then a day came when her searchings of spirit were as 
 forgotten as if they had never been. 
 
 This obliviousness to their existence was caused by 
 Joey, who casually announced to his mother that, at his 
 grandfather's urgent request, he was going into business 
 in Reuben's firm and was commencing work on the morrow. 
 
 To his mother's entreaties, protestations, reproaches, 
 the boy was exasperatingly indifferent. 
 
 As a last resource, she begged him to delay the matter 
 a week in order that they might consider the matter in 
 aU its bearings ; upon his proving obdurate, she tele- 
 phoned to Titterton at his hotel to learn that he had gone 
 out half an hour back. 
 
 She was despairingly wondering if he were bound for her 
 house, when she saw him come in at the gate. 
 
 To her consternation, Titterton sided with Joey, telling 
 her that in preferring business to the Church, the boy 
 showed enterprise of which she should be proud. 
 
 Their divergence of opinion almost led to a rupture ; 
 when he left her, she believed she was the most badly used 
 woman in the world. 
 
 This was not the sum of her troubles so far as Joey was 
 concerned. 
 
 The first day he returned from work he read a paper 
 during tea, and replied to her many questions concerning 
 his duties with evasive monosyllables ; when this was 
 over, he changed into his bicycling things and made ready 
 his bicycle, at which she asked him if he would be in for 
 dinner. 
 
 " Haven't the least idea," he told her as he rode away. 
 
 He did not come back till late, when he ate what had been 
 put by for him in silence ; then, he perfunctorily kissed 
 her before betaking himself to bed. 
 
342 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 The two following evenings he did not come home till 
 late and nearly drove her to distraction with fearing what 
 had befallen him. 
 
 On the morning after the second occasion, she summoned 
 her resolution and sharply reprimanded him for his be- 
 haviour, when he coldly told her that " If he couldn't 
 do as he pleased, he'd ' turn up ' home and go into ' digs ' 
 in London." 
 
 This threat completely routed Jeannie ; she wept bitter 
 tears directly he left home ; she refused to be comforted 
 by Titterton, who arrived soon after Joey's departure. 
 
 The two following evenings he was back in time for dinner ; 
 the third morning after their dispute, she said : 
 
 " Will you be back to-night, dear ? " 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " We are asked to the Trills'. I was hoping you would 
 come." 
 
 " Titterton going ? " asked the boy, as he intently 
 regarded his mother. 
 
 "Yes. Why?" 
 
 " He's all right ; you needn't get red, mater." 
 
 " Don't be absurd," replied Jeannie, who was flushing 
 in spite of herself. " I was hoping you were coming. I 
 like to have you with me, and I want you to be friends with 
 Ernest." 
 
 " Thanks. But I can't stick Radicals." 
 
 " Joey ! " 
 
 " Look at them. You should hear what Pengelly says 
 about them." 
 
 " I wasn't aware he was a person whose opinion was to 
 be deferred to." 
 
 " Don't you believe it, mater. Pengelly's all there. 
 And what he doesn't know about girls isn't worth knowing !" 
 
 She would have protested against his friendship with 
 Pengelly, but had learned from experience how opposition 
 confirmed Joey in anything on which he had made up his 
 mind. 
 
TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 343 
 
 " Anyway, if I'm not back in time to go with you, as 
 likely as not I'll come on later," declared Joey, and there 
 the matter rested. 
 
 When, at something after eight, Jeannie, who had been 
 escorted by the ever-faithful Titterton, sat in the Trills' 
 drawing-room, Joey was not present, although every 
 time the door opened his mother anxiously looked to see 
 if he had arrived. 
 
 The evening to which she had been asked was an indulg- 
 ence her host sometimes permitted himself when he invited 
 a few friends of like political convictions to his own : music 
 alternated with serious conversation. 
 
 The half-dozen men guests seemed all of a piece, being 
 bald, rather fatuously earnest men who were arrant 
 vegetarians ; their spare time was devoted to what they 
 called " social reform " ; so far as Jeannie could gather, 
 their chief predilection appeared to be the abusing and 
 passionate misrepresentation of their political opponents, to 
 whom they could not allow a worthy motive. 
 
 One or two of their women folk were also vegetarians and 
 looked it, but three or four more were surprisingly well 
 turned out. 
 
 It was on these, as well as Jeannie, that old Jackson kept 
 his eye ; he had a liberal supply of half-sheets of paper at 
 his elbow, while now and again he furtively patted his fat 
 fox-terrier friend, which, asleep under the table, was not 
 supposed to be in the room. 
 
 Directly Jeannie had arrived, Titterton, who was by a 
 long way the manliest male present, was monopolised 
 by a scented and more than commonly sleek - looking 
 Mrs. TrUl ; to Jeannie's annoyance, her friend appeared to 
 appreciate greatly his attractive companion. 
 
 For aU her preoccupations, Jeannie noticed an atmosphere 
 of anticipation about the gathering which was explained by 
 Trill, who, sitting by her, was curious to know why he had 
 seen nothing of Joey ; also, to learn what she thought of 
 the Poor Law Minority Report. 
 
344 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 It appeared that a Mr. Pidduck was expected ; he had 
 been a delegate to some International Peace Association 
 which had been meeting in Switzerland ; most of those 
 present were eager to learn his impressions of the recent 
 progress of the movement. 
 
 While Jeannie gave TriU indifferent attention, the voice 
 of a rather severe-looking, elderly woman, who wore some 
 beautiful lace, impinged on her ears. The latter was a Mrs. 
 Craig ; she was confidently, sentimentally looking forward 
 to the millennium of peace ; she argued that since England 
 and France had recently made friends, the same desirable 
 consummation would speedily be effected between the 
 former country and Germany. 
 
 TrUl had barely left Jeannie's side to accompany one of 
 the nicer-looking women in a song when the guest of honour 
 was announced, at which music was temporarily abandoned. 
 
 Jeannie was rather surprised at seeing that Pidduck was a 
 handsome, rather distinguished-looking man with keen blue 
 eyes ; he had an authoritative voice and wore very big boots, 
 yet, for all his good looks, there was something about him 
 that convinced her he had left a black soft felt hat in the 
 haU. 
 
 Directly he arrived, the more ardent poUticians crowded 
 about him when he expressed particular gratification at the 
 fact of a German delegate having assured him that the very 
 last thing his country was thinking of was war with this 
 country. 
 
 " What's he sa37ing ? " asked Jackson suddenly. 
 
 His son-in-law briefly conveyed the good news on a half- 
 sheet of paper. 
 
 " H'm ! What's Germany building thirty-two Dread- 
 noughts and ten Dreadnought cruisers for ? " asked Jackson, 
 valiantly ignoring Trill's frowns. 
 
 Pidduck explained how Germany was making herself 
 bankrupt in the process ; when this information was given 
 to Jackson, he said : 
 
 " Nations don't run such risks for nothing." 
 
TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 345 
 
 With one accord, Pidduck, Trill, and most of the others 
 set about proving to their ovm satisfaction the absurdity of 
 Jackson's remarks, the fact of his being unable to hear what 
 they were saying exasperating them and making them 
 irritable and voluble. 
 
 As the matter discussed held no interest for Jeannie, 
 she kept an eye on Titterton^ when she was pleased to see 
 that he now all but ignored the woman at his side and was 
 absorbed in the political discussion. 
 
 There was more than a suggestion of antagonism in his 
 manner to the views propounded ; perhaps the others 
 realised his dissent for they presently addressed their 
 remarks to him. 
 
 " This is a friend of Mrs. Baverstock's," explained Trill. 
 " I understand he's been a good deal abroad." 
 
 " And in Canada," added Jeannie. 
 
 Rather to her surprise, Titterton vouchsafed no acknow- 
 ledgment of this informal introduction ; as one possessed, 
 he stared with wide-open eyes and lips slightly parted at 
 Pidduck, who was now announcing his intention of going on 
 a lecturing tour in support of his convictions. 
 
 " What I shall advocate is disarmament," he began. 
 
 Titterton started, at which Pidduck continued as if 
 arguing with him : " I admit England has already given a 
 praiseworthy earnest of our intentions, but they have been 
 misconstrued. We must go one better this time and 
 prove to the world with no uncertain voice our pacific con- 
 victions. As a beginning, I would suggest that the home 
 fleet be dis " 
 
 He got no further. Titterton, his face aglow with passion, 
 had sprung to his feet, as he cried : 
 
 " Are you all mad ? " 
 
 " Sir ! " from Pidduck. 
 
 " You must be, or you wouldn't talk like that." 
 
 " Like what ? " 
 
 Titterton ignored the question and continued : 
 
 " Here we have the finest heritage the world has seen. 
 
346 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 and because you're insensible of its value and others want it, 
 and are straining every nerve to win it, you, and others of 
 the same opinion, whine about disarmament ! " 
 
 Pidduck, for the moment, was too taken aback by the 
 other's vehemence to reply : he merely spluttered in 
 astonishment at being so unexpectedly flouted. Titterton, 
 possessed by his subject, went on : 
 
 " As Mrs. Baverstock told you, I have been a lot abroad, 
 particularly on the Continent. There, I have mixed with 
 all sorts and conditions, and what is the burden of their 
 conversation outside Germany? I wiU tell you. 'What 
 fools you English are,' they say, ' not to have done to 
 Germany what she would have done to you were your 
 relative positions reversed. But now it is too late.' That 
 is what they say, and, instead of our uniting to meet the 
 greatest danger which has ever menaced this country, 
 we are quarrelling among ourselves, and the most futile 
 are preaching disarmament." 
 
 " You are one of the misguided ones," declared Pidduck, 
 with a superior smUe. " If you would go into the 
 matter " 
 
 " And never forget the German Emperor positively 
 rushed to the death-bed of the late Queen ! " interrupted 
 sentimental Mrs. Craig. 
 
 " I don't forget that. Neither do I forget the Germans 
 are straining every nerve to catch us up while they're doing 
 their best to blind us as to their intentions. And who can 
 blame them ? They know what they want, and take the 
 shortest cut to get there. I only want you to help prevent 
 its coming off." 
 
 Jeannie, so far as her distress at Joey's continued absence 
 would permit, was somewhat disturbed at the discussion 
 that had broken out ; since the friend she had brought had 
 been the cause, she wondered if she were responsible for 
 the untoward happening. 
 
 Then she was aware of the impressive figure Titterton 
 made while combating his opponents : his convictions 
 
TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 347 
 
 seemed to endow him with stature while his face was aglow 
 with missionary zeal. 
 
 Next she noticed (and this did not please her at all) 
 that Mrs. Trill was watching him with undiluted admira- 
 tion in her fine eyes. 
 
 Soon, however, Jeannie was aU but incapable of observ- 
 ing anything definite, her senses being nearly overborne 
 by the hubbub that arose : every one appeared to be speak- 
 ing at once in the endeavour to crush an heretical 
 opinion, whUe Trill was so excited at the uproar that 
 he was an3rwhere and everywhere, helplessly wringing his 
 hands. 
 
 Jeannie also perceived that old Jackson took advantage 
 of the confusion to pet openly his dog. 
 
 Her attention was diverted from Jackson by a discussion 
 concerning the prospective battleships built and building 
 for England and Germany. Most of those present flatly 
 contradicted one another with respect to these ; one 
 authority, who suffered from acute indigestion and looked 
 it, after making notes on one of Jackson's half -sheets of 
 paper, excitedly thrust this into any one's face, irrespective 
 of his or her opinion. 
 
 Pidduck vainly strove for a hearing ; at last, despairing 
 of making himself heard, he sat by Jeannie and insisted 
 upon his point of view. 
 
 For her part, she felt the room was going round, but she 
 would have cheerfully borne the discomfort if only Joey 
 had put in an appearance. 
 
 Finally, Titterton, by sheer physical persistence, 
 dominated the gathering ; although he was suffered to 
 proceed, his opponents occasionally interjected adverse 
 remarks or made petulant gestures of protest. 
 
 " It isn't at aU a question of building battleships," said 
 Titterton, " importajit as these are. It's a question of 
 national education and responsibility. Here, there is no 
 thought of what I can do for my country ; it's only what 
 can I get out of it. We are too lazy, too rich, and too fat, 
 
348 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 and too cowardly to do what men of other nations are 
 proud to perform." 
 
 "And what might that be ? " asked Pidduck. 
 
 " National service. This is England. Germany is 
 gladly enduring the sacrifices necessary to build a great 
 fleet : behind this is an army of seven miUion trained 
 men " 
 
 " Don't talk of soldiers. The sight of a regiment of 
 soldiers makes me positively ill," declared one of the more 
 attractive-looking socialists. 
 
 " I'U come to that directly," replied Titterton. " This 
 great German nation is educated in the belief that to 
 die gladly for the Fatherland is a German's first duty. 
 From top to bottom the nation is organised on a scientific 
 basis. It is disciplined to an extent to which we have no 
 conception, ?nd do you mean to say that a country whose 
 precept and practice is blood and iron will not ultimately 
 prevail against an undisciplined lot such as we are, who are 
 ruled by flabby sentiment ? Just think of it ! In a 
 world ruled by ruthless law, the folly of opposing sentiment 
 to blood and iron ! That a nation (assuming we were 
 aU like that) which hates the sight of soldiers marching, 
 can stand against one where a uniform is reverenced as a 
 symbol of duty ! " 
 
 Objections were made to his assertion ; heedless of these, 
 he went on : 
 
 " Our country, as a whole, is run on unscientific, un- 
 businesslike lines : it is obsessed by the curse of senti- 
 mentality. In this very village this afternoon I met a 
 procession of some sixty or seventy lunatics with keepers, 
 all kept in useless idleness at the public expense. 
 
 " Any healthy-minded community would put them pain- 
 lessly out of existence, but we And it's the same in 
 
 everything else. Hundreds of thousands of pounds are spent 
 every year in hospitals in coddling the unfit, in keeping alive 
 people nature intended to die. And it doesn't end there. 
 These weakhngs marry and multiply, and thus add immensely 
 
TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 349 
 
 to the sum of the world's misery, which is enough without 
 their assistance, God knows." 
 
 He continued talking ; as Jeannie listened, a half- 
 sheet of paper was thrust under her nose on which Jackson 
 had written : 
 
 " What's he saying ? " 
 
 She took the proffered pencil and told him, at which 
 he whispered. 
 
 " Is he a socialist ? " 
 
 " Strong Imperialist," she wrote, at which the old man 
 was hard put to it to restrain his delight. 
 
 Meantime, Titterton, undeterred by frequent interrup- 
 tions, went on : 
 
 " I have been away for many years and it may interest 
 you to know how I find home on my return. Most things 
 seem to be going wrong, particularly the great increase 
 in wealth on one hand, and in hideous debasing poverty 
 on the other." 
 
 For once, the socialists were in agreement. He continued : 
 
 " Apart from that, there seems a different spirit abroad : 
 one can't open an illustrated paper without seeing pages of 
 photographs of third-rate actresses and such-like people. 
 These poor creatures live by advertisement, one knows, 
 and one can't blame them for exhibiting as much of their 
 pretty persons as they dare. But it doesn't end there. 
 It wouldn't matter so much if it did. But now the great 
 world of society seems to have caught the craze for pubUcity ; 
 side by side with the actresses are snapshots of those, who 
 ought to know better, in intimate phases of life." 
 
 Jeannie's attention was diverted by Jackson's en- 
 thusiasm for the speaker, although he could not hear a 
 word of what was said. 
 
 Jackson, however, was soon repressed by TriU's frowns, 
 at which Jeannie again listened to Titterton. 
 
 " In Germany, the army is with all classes the most 
 popular subject of conversation. Here, all our working 
 men care about is betting on races they never see and 
 
350 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 talking professional football. If that isn't a symptom ot 
 decadence, I don't know what is. 
 
 " And there's another thing : owing to our criminal 
 indifference to agriculture, thousands of the best Englishmen 
 are emigrating to countries which aren't so short-sighted, 
 and their place is taken by the alien who has no patriotism 
 and an inferior standard of living. 
 
 " Yesterday, I passed down streets in the East End 
 where there were no English names over the shops, and 
 where a foreign language was spoken. AU these aliens 
 have ruined Englishmen by the thousand ; I hear they 
 only deal among themselves, and in the event of inter- 
 national trouble, they would be a hindrance instead of a 
 help." 
 
 After characteristic protests from his opponents, he 
 said : 
 
 " I've almost done, and then you can all jump on me. 
 
 " What I complain of in you anti-everythings is that 
 you're no sportsmen. I see in the papers that one of the 
 Imperial pioneers, who has been recently lecturing, lost 
 his sight in the war. One would think that that fact 
 would alone entitle him to a respectful hearing. Not 
 a bit of it ! He was howled at and execrated as if he 
 were a cowardly murderer instead of a hero." 
 
 He paused for very breath, at which a cultured socialism 
 was advocated as a remedy for the country's ills. 
 
 For a moment, Titterton ignored this suggestion, as 
 he said : 
 
 " And the pity of it is that the nation is sound at heart. 
 Only yesterday I read in the paper of a master mariner 
 who, for all that he lost his rudder in a storm, safely 
 mau'xuvred his ship into port. We want more men like 
 that : more men who can drop a shell into an enemy's 
 battleship at a range of four miles. And such men should 
 be honoured as they deserve to be honoured. 
 
 " You mentioned socialism, which after all said and 
 done means subsidising the unfit. In my humble opinion, 
 
TITTERTON SPEAKS HIS MIND 351 
 
 what we v«fant to put us right is a Man : one who will ask 
 us why every German schoolboy is educated to the idea 
 that the destruction of the British Empire is a sacred 
 duty ; who will convince us that, if the German Navy 
 were at the bottom of the sea, it would mean a hundred 
 years of European peace.'' 
 
 " We are never likely to see the perpetration of such a 
 crime," said Pidduck, while most of the others were aghast 
 at such a suggestion. 
 
 " I'm afraid not," sighed Titterton. " But whatever 
 calamities overtake this country, we have the satisfaction 
 of knowing the German Emperor hurried to the death-bed 
 of the late Queen." 
 
 The entrance of the refreshments occasioned a truce and 
 brought the fat terrier from beneath the table. 
 
 Considering the heated discussion, the rest of the evening 
 was fairly successful, although Jeannie would have been 
 happier if Joey had come, and if Mrs. Trill had not gone 
 out of her way to make a fuss of Titterton. 
 
 Such was her annoyance, that she would have much 
 preferred Titterton to talk of herself on the way home 
 instead of harping on politics as he did. 
 
 " I felt dreadfully old to-night," said Jeannie. " Didn't 
 I look it ? " 
 
 " Eh ? That would be impossible," replied Titterton 
 absently ; he was still possessed by his subject. " Our 
 mistake was in sitting tight when Germany took Schleswig- 
 Holstein. In international affairs, deferred obligations 
 accumulate at heavy compound interest. But what can 
 you expect of a nation that is besotted enough to allow 
 foreign pilots to ply on our rivers ? " 
 
 " I wonder if Joey will be in when we get back," said 
 Jeannie anxiously. 
 
 " All those chaps we met to-night are incurable senti- 
 mentalists. They believe the world is what they would 
 like it to be." 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't trouble much about politics," 
 
352 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 remarked Jeannie, as she quickened her steps in the direc- 
 tion of the house, where she devoutly hoped to find Joey 
 awaiting her return. 
 
 " At heart they're cowards," continued Titterton. 
 " They don't want to fight and they veneer their cowardice 
 with fine phrases." 
 
 When Jeannie anxiously entered the house, there was 
 no sign of Joey ; inquiry of Ethel told her that he had 
 not arrived in her absence. 
 
 " He'll turn up sometime," said Titterton reassuringly. 
 " I shall probably meet him on the way to the station." 
 
 " Must you go now ? " 
 
 " In ten minutes. Then I shall have to run." 
 She sat helplessly with her eyes on the hands of the 
 grandfather clock, at which he looked at her curiously 
 before saying : 
 
 " It reminds me " 
 
 " Yes ! " she exclaimed, as he hesitated. 
 
 " Never mind." 
 
 " But I wish to know," she cried, with a pretty petulance. 
 " Tell me." 
 
 " It reminds me of how Joe used to wait in the hope 
 of hearing from you when you were married." 
 
 She started violently before saying : 
 
 " My father ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't have told you." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " I haven't a moment to spare," he said, as he made for 
 the door. 
 
 " But " 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 She called to him, but he did not come back. 
 
 She was alone with the thoughts begotten of his remark. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 REVELATION 
 
 " You remember what you said the other night ? " 
 
 " What about ? " 
 
 " My father." 
 
 " I hoped you'd forgotten." 
 
 " I've thought of it ever since." 
 
 " What do you wish to know ? '' asked Titterton reluct- 
 antly. 
 
 Jeannie was on her way to visit her mother-in-law at 
 Putney ; she was accompanied by her faithful friend, 
 and had taken particular pains with her appearance for 
 his behoof ; the exacting vanity of the woman of forty 
 was in some measure appeased at noticing the frequency 
 with which his eyes sought her person. 
 
 " You said my worrying about Joey reminded you of 
 Joe's anxiety to hear of me when I was married ! " 
 
 " Did I ? " asked Titterton, who, by way of changing 
 the subject, added : " What time did Joey get back 
 last night ? " 
 
 " Not so very late. Did father worry very much about 
 me?" 
 
 " You really wish to know ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 At the same time, she placed a hand upon his arm and 
 gave him an appealing glance. 
 
 " It will only pain you if I tell you." 
 
 " It is my duty to know." 
 
 In as few words as possible, in order to lessen the shock 
 of his information, he told her how he had seen much of 
 23 
 
354 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Joe before his departure for Canada, and had divined that 
 he (Joe) was breaking his heart on account of his daughter's 
 neglect. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me at the time ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " I wonder what you would have said if I had ! " 
 
 " Did Joe ever teU you this ? " 
 
 " Not in so many words." 
 
 " You don't think he had anything else on his mind — 
 something he didn't tell you about which made you think 
 he was worrying about me ? " 
 
 " Of course, it may have been that." 
 
 " And it was such a long time ago : nearly twenty 
 years. Your memory mayn't be very accurate ! " sug- 
 gested Jeannie, eager to clutch at any straw that offered. 
 
 " I admit that," he said, being only too willing to assist 
 her escape from self-reproach. 
 
 Although Jeannie had been deeply distressed at her 
 father's death, Edgar's illness and departure for South 
 Africa, which had followed close on the heels of that 
 dread event, had blunted the edge of her grief at Joe's 
 demise. 
 
 The months of anxiety and suspense, which were hers 
 during Edgar's absence, had prevented her from realising 
 her father's loss ; her husband's death had more than 
 contributed to this consummation. 
 
 The lesser grief had been absorbed in the greater, and 
 during the years she had devoted herself to Joey's up- 
 bringing, she was reluctant to dwell on ans^hing pertaining 
 to Joe in order to concentrate all her energies on the 
 task she had set herself. 
 
 Memories of her father frequently invaded her mind, 
 but she involuntarily drew a veil over any behaviour of 
 hers in which she might have adjudged herself wanting. 
 
 She had small compunction in doing this ; she beUeved 
 she had endured so much that she was entitled, if it were 
 possible, to avoid further suffering. 
 
 Titterton's remark when they had come back from the 
 
REVELATION 355 
 
 Trills' had lifted the curtain that concealed her more 
 flagrant conduct to her father : the glimpse she had 
 obtained had unsettled her to such an extent that she 
 resolved to question Titterton on the first opportunity. 
 
 Now, although the little she had wrung from him con- 
 firmed her fears, she still sought to evade the conclusion 
 to which his information pointed. 
 
 From sheer force of habit, her mind strove to be interested 
 in anything alien to this preoccupation, consequently, 
 when Titterton, divining the trend of her thoughts, assisted 
 her by changing the subject to Joey, she eagerly availed 
 herself of the opportunity provided. 
 
 " What time do you expect Joey back ? " he asked. 
 
 " He never tells me when he's coming home." 
 
 " I suppose you are going back to-night ? " 
 
 " Oh yes. Are you coming to meet me ? " 
 
 " No," he replied decidedly. 
 
 " Not ? " she exclaimed, in surprise. 
 
 " I've been seeing too much of you as it is." 
 
 She looked at him in astonishment, at which he added, 
 as if to quaUfy what he had said : " For my peace of mind. 
 I had never forgotten the Jeannie I loved, and when I 
 came back I made up my mind to find out what had 
 become of you. When you told me you were free, it aU 
 
 seemed perfectly straightforward until But it's only 
 
 making it worse seeing you as I do. And that is why it's 
 to come to an end." 
 
 She started in spite of herself. He went on : 
 
 " I wanted to tell you this before, but couldn't bring myself 
 to. Sometimes one has less pluck than at other times." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " she asked, with some- 
 thing of an effort. 
 
 " Go back to Canada. You're the only thing that 
 attracts me here. And since " 
 
 " When ? " she interrupted. 
 
 " I don't know ; probably soon." 
 
 An awkward silence ensued during which Jeannie 
 
3S6 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 endeavoured to appraise her emotions at learning Titterton's 
 intention. 
 
 Presently, he said : 
 
 " I know you don't care a hang about me, and all you 
 think of is Joey, so while we're together, we'd better talk 
 about him." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " I wish it," he declared firmly. 
 
 For once, she did not respond to his invitation to speak 
 of her boy ; she was disposed to be interested in Titterton, 
 but, discovering he was obdurate, she said : 
 
 " What do you wish to know ? " 
 
 " Going on all right ? " he asked. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " What's he up to now ? " 
 
 " He gets worse and worse. He has letters addressed in 
 common girls' writing." 
 
 Titterton concealed a smile as he said reassuringly : 
 
 " You needn't worry about that." 
 
 She raised her eyes questioningly ; he went on : 
 
 " Joey is, to put it mildly, careful with his money. 
 Perhaps you've noticed it ? " 
 
 " He was always buying and selling stamps at school." 
 
 " I found out he knew the value of money in no time. 
 That sort of boy never comes to grief. He's too careful." 
 
 " But he's a friend who is anything but a good influence. 
 His name's Pengelly. Perhaps Joey mentioned him ? " 
 
 " More. I've met Master Pengelly." 
 
 " What is he really like ? " asked Jeannie quickly. 
 
 Titterton shook his head. 
 
 " Isn't he a fit companion for Joey ? " 
 
 " Anything but. But for all that, you needn't worry." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " He's too much of a coward to be really bad." 
 
 Later, when Jeannie left Titterton, she said a little 
 nervously : 
 
 " I'll see you before you go back ? " 
 
REVELATION 357 
 
 " I dare say," he moodily replied. 
 
 Jeaimie arrived at " Pyracantha " with her mind in a 
 turmoil : recollections of Joe were mingled with anxiety 
 for Joey, resentment at Titterton's defection. 
 
 Directly she entered the ornate drawing-room, the first 
 person she encountered was Lucy Hibling, whom she had 
 not seen for some weeks. To her surprise, her cousin by 
 marriage had lost the look, to which Joey had referred, of 
 a hopelessly disappointed woman, her drawn, much-lined 
 face being radiant with excitement. Directly she set eyes 
 on Jeannie, she approached her, and said before kissing 
 her : 
 
 " Of course, you have heard my good news ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't." 
 
 " Not ? I must teU you. Read this." 
 
 Here, she produced from her purse an advertisement 
 cutting from a newspaper which she handed to Jeannie. 
 
 It was as follows : 
 
 " Wanted, for high-class journal, lady, who frequents 
 West End and knows prominent society people by sight, 
 to write bi-weekly column of chit-chat. Apply, etc." 
 
 " I've got it," declared Mrs. Hibling triumphantly, 
 before Jeannie could make any comment. " It's the 
 chance of a lifetime. Don't you congratulate me ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " The pay's good, but of course that's nothing. I may 
 actually get to know some of the people I write about as 
 even quite tip-top people are nowadays so keen on seeing 
 their names in print." 
 
 " So long as you are pleased, there's nothing to be said," 
 remarked Jearmie. 
 
 " Pleased ! I'm delighted. It's taken twenty years oif 
 my Ufe." 
 
 When Jeannie went upstairs, she found her sweet mother- 
 in-law in bed and attended by a nurse. 
 
 For all her constantly diminishing vitahty, she raised 
 
358 THE SINS OF THE CHH.DREN 
 
 herself to greet Jeannie tenderly ; after dismissing the nurse, 
 she made many inquiries after her grandson, at which, 
 to spare her feelings, Jeannie deliberately prevaricated. 
 
 Presently, when the sufferer lay back exhausted, Jeannie's 
 senses persisted in playing her a sorry trick. 
 
 In spite of herself, it seemed that Joe was in the bed, 
 and as he had appeared during his last illness. 
 
 She strove to put the impression from her mind, but 
 although she succeeded for awhile, it constantly recurred. 
 
 She was so distressed by this phenomenon that she took 
 her leave earlier than she had intended when she made a 
 heavy-hearted journey home. 
 
 Ten o'clock that evening found Jeannie alone and dis- 
 consolate. Joey had not come back ; she had not the 
 least idea when he would return. 
 
 Concern at his absence was mingled with an indefinable 
 emotion on account of Titterton's resolve. 
 
 At the back of her mind, and continually gi'owing in 
 force, was an approximation to realising how much her 
 selfishness had contributed to the undoing of her father's 
 health, consequently to his death. 
 
 Now and again, she was conscious of the measured beat 
 of the grandfather clock which, as always, was ticking 
 with a magnificent indifference to anything that might be 
 toward. 
 
 Apprehension respecting Joey filled her mind, but even 
 as she watched the big hand's steady progress, she was 
 possessed by memories of her father. 
 
 Again and again she essayed to put them from her 
 thoughts, but with such poor success that she very soon 
 found herself not only dwelling on reminiscences of the days 
 she had lived at "Laurel" Villa, but pursuing fugitive 
 recollections till they assumed definite shape. 
 
 Everything she remembered had one common atmosphere, 
 this, the abiding love and sympathy with which Joe had 
 surrounded his Jeannie. 
 
 This distinguishing quality was in the nature of an 
 
REVELATION 359 
 
 immense reproach and relentlessly stirred her conscience 
 into an acute sensibility to her shortcomings where he 
 had been concerned. 
 
 In an access of blind remorse, she went to a bureau, 
 which had belonged to Joe ; unlocking the drawers that 
 contained many of his belongings, she tenderly examined 
 them. 
 
 There were receipts for payments he had methodically 
 kept ; memoranda of housekeeping items ; the all too 
 few letters she had written to him after her marriage to 
 Edgar ; accounts with his stockbroker for the investing 
 of the moneys he had scraped together. 
 
 Everything she looked at was a more or less tangible 
 evidence of his love and provision for her. 
 
 In putting back the things, her wet eyes perceived that 
 the newspaper covering the bottom of one of the drawers 
 was not flat ; she set about ascertaining the cause, which 
 proved to be a largish thin book with covers protected by 
 brown paper. 
 
 She opened it, to find it was what was known in the days 
 of her youth as a " Confession Album," a book in which 
 people wrote answers to a string of questions respecting 
 their predilections. 
 
 She glanced through its faded pages and found the 
 confessions of romantic Gertrude Stubbs, and other school 
 friends, those of Coop, the Misses Hitch (the sisters ex- 
 tolled honesty as the most seductive virtue), and of herself 
 both before and after knowing Edgar ; interspersed with 
 these were three of Joe's written on different occasions. 
 
 She smiled grimly at reading her artless preferences and 
 dislikes before her heart had been stirred by love ; then, 
 it appeared her ideal of happiness was to go to Ramsgate 
 with Joe. 
 
 Edgar and she had later made a " confession " on the 
 same evening when he had written that his favourite name 
 was Jeaimie ; his greatest delight, to eat sausages she had 
 cooked for supper. 
 
36o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 With her future husband looking over her shoulder, 
 she had laughingly set down that her pet aversion was 
 the name of Edgar ; her supreme joy, the prospect of never 
 seeing him again. 
 
 Her prepossessions respecting her father prevented her 
 from being moved by this evidence of happier days ; she 
 sought for Joe's confessions, which she eagerly read. 
 
 She could have saved herself the effort, one being typical 
 of the rest inasmuch as they all bore naive witness to his 
 single-hearted love for his daughter. 
 
 His favourite name was Jeannie ; his greatest delight, to 
 hear her joyous laughter ; his favourite book, thumbed 
 nursery rhymes she had read when a child ; his ambition, to 
 make her happy. 
 
 She was staring dully at these pages when it occurred to 
 her that, were her mind free of its present tribulation, and 
 she wrote a " confession " seriously, it would be eloquent 
 of her love for her son. 
 
 Thoughts of Joey reminded her how he had not yet come 
 home. She glanced at the clock, to see it was getting 
 on for eleven. 
 
 Several times she had told him how she was worried by his 
 prolonged absences, and that she would not mind so much 
 if she knew where he was going and when to expect him 
 back. 
 
 He had laughed at her fears ; it was his persistent indiffer- 
 ence to these apprehensions which pained her, inasmuch as 
 it told her he did not one whit appreciate her loving 
 devotion. 
 
 This conviction, allied to a further realisation of Joe's 
 love for her and of her one-time indifference to his affection, 
 filled her heart to overflowing. 
 
 Then, in an agony of self-pity, she found herself minutely 
 detailing the innumerable sacrifices she had made for Joey ; 
 the economies she had rigidly practised ; the countless cares 
 and anxieties she had known on his behalf. 
 
 She had always planned and striven for his welfare, and 
 
REVELATION 361 
 
 when he had suffered from the most trivial of aihnents, 
 she had worn herself out with ceaseless ministrations. 
 
 He had been her one concern and interest in life ; her very 
 aU. 
 
 Joyously, and at a moment's notice, she would have 
 given her Ufe for him. 
 
 But even as she dwelt on these things, her senses again 
 played her a sorry trick. 
 
 As, when she had stood at her mother-in-law's bedside 
 earlier in the day, Jeannie had persistently seen Joe 
 stretched in the bed, as he had appeared during his last 
 illness, so now, while she thought of aU she had done for 
 Joey, it seemed she had changed places with her father and 
 was suffering solely by reason of her own conduct to him. 
 
 She essayed to put the impression from her mind, but 
 with such indifferent success that, at last, she miserably 
 surrendered to its domination. 
 
 With what a surpassing tenderness he loved his pretty, 
 graceful daughter, and how indifferently she treated this 
 devotion, beiag selfishly absorbed ia her passion for the man 
 who was to be her husband. 
 
 He wondered if, when she had a child of her own, her 
 heart would soften to her loving father. 
 
 Then, it was as if she were enduring all the unnumbered 
 griefs, anxieties, and tribulations he had known on his 
 Jeannie's account ; the tale of suffering was so formidable 
 and so persistent that it seemed as if an interminable 
 procession of pain were potiring through her being. 
 
 Next, when he was iU, he prayed long and fervently he 
 should see her before he died. 
 
 Finally, he had recovered consciousness and foimd her 
 asleep when she should have been awake. 
 
 Although he had felt his end was near, and although he 
 ached to hear her voice once more, he forbore to awaken 
 her, and for fear she should take cold, he had exhausted 
 his remaining strength in putting the first handy thing 
 about her shoulders. 
 
362 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 These impressions left her dry-eyed, trembling, inert ; she 
 would have given much to ease her pain in tears. 
 
 The striking of the grandfather impinged on her agony 
 of mind, and made her start violently. 
 
 She lookedwith terrified eyes at the clock,which continued 
 ticking with characteristic indifference to her remorse for her 
 behaviour to her father ; her concern for Joey. 
 
 Then, as she listened to its beat, and was distraught by 
 reason of her son's being out so late, it occurred to her how 
 often her father must have sat listening to the clock's 
 ticking while waiting with weary heart for the daughter 
 who never came. 
 
 Suddenly, her eyes were opened. 
 
 As she had treated her father, so her son behaved to her. 
 
 And she knew from all she had seen and heard and read 
 that such ungrateful conduct on the part of children to 
 parents was deplorably common, indeed, the persistence 
 with which children neglected to appreciate loving fathers 
 and mothers stopped little short of making their remissness 
 attain the dignity of a natural law. 
 
 If this were true, it foUowed that the sufferings that were 
 hers were the inevitable fate of many fond parents, although, 
 with the abiding egotism of the human unit, she was con- 
 fident that the pangs others endured in a like extremity 
 were not comparable to hers. 
 
 A little later, she found herself wondering if, when 
 selfish children grew up and had famihes of their own, a day 
 came, as in her case, when they were supremely remorseful 
 for the pains they had unwittingly inflicted on those who 
 were beyond the reach of the most passionate penitence. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 PILGRIMAGE 
 
 " What's up with you, pretty mater ? " 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " You look so awfully ' down in the mouth.' " 
 
 Jeannie sighed. 
 
 " You want bucking up," continued Joey. " You ought 
 to get Titterton to take you to the ' Gaiety.' " 
 
 " I don't care for such places." 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " I don't care for such places." 
 
 " You ought to see some of the girls. There's one " 
 
 " If you don't hurry, you'U miss your train," she inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " Good-bye, and take care of yourself," he said, as he 
 kissed her quite affectionately. 
 
 " It isn't often you worry about me," she remarked. 
 
 " That's all right. I made ten quid yesterday." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " A little spec, in rubbers." 
 
 " What are you going to do with it ? " 
 
 " Buy for the next account." 
 
 When Joey had gone, Jeannie went upstairs and 
 hurriedly dressed for going out : then, she hastened to the 
 station and caught the next train to town. 
 
 It was the third day since she had realised the similarity 
 
 between Joey's indifference to her and her neglect of her 
 
 father ; that she had been responsible for the shortening 
 
 of the latter's days. 
 
 During the intervening time, she had been weighed down 
 
 363 
 
364 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 by a conviction of her many shortcomings ; this was the 
 more potent in her case because she had hitherto laid the 
 flattering unction to her soul that she had led a blameless 
 hfe. 
 
 The awakening that had overtaken her dismally shattered 
 this conviction ; she was overwhelmed by the realisation 
 of her faults, and in an access of humility, she abased 
 herself as one utterly unworthy. 
 
 She mentally arrayed herself in sackcloth and put ashes 
 upon her head. 
 
 Incidentally, she took a morbid pleasure in going through 
 Joe's belongings, and after tenderly examining them, 
 putting them neatly away, but ready to hand. 
 
 The cruet that had belonged to her mother, and which 
 had graced the table on state occasions, was once more 
 brought from the cupboard when, after being tenderly 
 furbished by Jeannie, it decorated the sideboard. 
 
 While engaged in this labour of love, she remembered 
 how Edgar had insisted upon the cruet being put 
 away as unfashionable, and how she had prevaricated 
 when Joe had commented on its absence. 
 
 ■Such were her griefs, that, for the time being, she shut 
 her eyes to Joey's selfishness, while Titterton was almost 
 forgotten. 
 
 Then, she became so obsessed by her remorse that, by 
 way of making some poor atonement for her behaviour, 
 she resolved to visit the more accessible of the places 
 identified with her father's life. 
 
 Some day in the near future she was to sign some papers 
 at her solicitor's relating to her affairs ; she resolved to get 
 this matter settled before commencing the pilgrimage on 
 which she had set her heart. 
 
 One spot she had fiercely resolved to avoid, this, " Larks- 
 lease " ; she felt she could not endure the poignant 
 memories which that place would excite. 
 
 She took a motor-bus from Liverpool Street to the Strand, 
 her sohcitor's offices being in Lancaster Place ; when she 
 
PILGRIMA&E 36s 
 
 had completed her business, she turned in the direction of 
 the underground in order to take train to Putney. 
 
 A theatre she passed caught her eye when she perceived 
 it was the one her father had frequented in the days of 
 his youth ; from the burlesques played on its board he 
 had been in the habit of quoting. 
 
 Careless of what passers-by might think, she stood in the 
 street and gazed with soft eyes at the front of the playhouse. 
 
 She wondered how often her father's feet had trodden the 
 vestibule, till she remembered how, being poor, he had 
 frequented gallery or pit. 
 
 She asked her way to the entrance to these places and 
 was directed to a side street, where she inspected two closed 
 doors which respectively admitted to the pit and gallery. 
 
 Sighing deeply, she resumed her progress to the station, 
 when she perceived through an open door two large frames 
 containing small photographs which were hung on the wall 
 of a passage ; above the door was a lamp on which was 
 painted " stage entrance." 
 
 No one being about just then, she made bold to enter 
 when she perceived that beneath the photographs were 
 printed the names of actors and actresses ; some were of 
 those of whom her father had often made mention. 
 
 Jeannie eagerly scanned them, to be more than disap- 
 pointed by their appearance ; for the most part, they 
 suggested to her that they were small tradespeople masque- 
 rading in fancy dress, at which she was disposed to be 
 pained that the antics of such folk had amused Joe. 
 
 When she realised that they had gladdened his evenings 
 and provided a storehouse of happy reminiscence, she 
 looked at them first with indulgent, then with grateful eyes. 
 
 Hearing footsteps approaching from the direction of the 
 stage, she hastened to the station. 
 
 When she got out at Putney, she crossed the bridge 
 where memories assailed her mind of Edgar's confession of 
 love after the watchnight service. 
 
 She had intended visiting the cemetery where Joe slept 
 
366 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 (she had not been there for a considerable time), but resolved 
 to go first to the towpath where he had so often fished and 
 sought wild flowers in her company. 
 
 As she had discovered on previous visits to her relations, 
 this had sadly altered since the days of her youth. 
 
 The enthusiastic, thirsty anglers had long ago packed 
 up their rods and gone for good ; the boys who had fetched 
 them beer in tin cans had grown up and doubtless forgotten 
 that there was ever an occasional flounder to be caught 
 in the Thames at Putney. 
 
 What had been wholesome river-bank was an ugly 
 promenade with railings, framed regulations, and imcom- 
 fortable iron seats ; the quarters of the rowing clubs, 
 which had once looked so important in the eyes of little 
 Jeannie, now seemed unimpressive, down-at-heel structures, 
 which spent their days in bewailing their lost prosperity. 
 
 She walked on. 
 
 The willow bushes, which had made continual wind music 
 for her childish ears, had been ruthlessly cut down, while on 
 the farther side of the river, where there had been acres of 
 wholesome market-gardens, were now the countless houses 
 of mean, yeUow-bricked Fulham. 
 
 When she came to the streeimlike backwater, which ran 
 parallel to the Thames, a further disappointment awaited 
 her, this now being little more than an evU-smeUing ditch ; 
 of wild flowers there was not a trace, even the humble 
 stitchwort scorning to bloom in such a place. 
 
 Farther on she came to where the backwater widened 
 before flowing beneath a wooden bridge into the river; 
 instead of noticing how this one-time spread of water had 
 shrunk, Jeannie's thoughts were occupied with Joe as he 
 had appeared when his honest face was aflush with anger 
 at the unsportsmanlike, as he had termed it, behaviour of 
 those who had dammed the stream in order to poach the fish. 
 
 She walked on, and came to the great sweep of towpath 
 along which as a little girl she had looked for Joe on his 
 way home from work. 
 
PILGRIMAGE 367 
 
 As she went, it seemed that the hand of time was put 
 back, and that any moment she could expect his stuggy, 
 gaitered figure to round the bend, when he would wave his 
 arms frantically before hastening to join her. 
 
 She was so overcome by this impression that she looked 
 about her to discover possible distraction from her troubled 
 thoughts. 
 
 This was provided by a nest of nursling thrushes which 
 her sharp eyes discerned in a tree overhanging the remains 
 of the backwater. It was evidently mother thrush's turn 
 to forage for worms, for her lord was mounting guard on 
 the edge of the nest. 
 
 Words of Joe recurred to her mind, words in which he 
 had told her how a day would come when she would wish 
 to leave her father, even as the nestlings would presently 
 desire to be rid of their parents' supervision. 
 
 She had passionately resented this suggestion ; now, she 
 bitterly realised the truth of aU he had said. 
 
 Other warnings of his came into her mind, particularly 
 that in which he had gently told her of the certainty of 
 trouble. 
 
 With the cocksure confidence of youth, she had dis- 
 regarded his admonition ; but were she to advise Joey now, 
 she would in substance repeat what her father had said. 
 
 In the event of her doing so, she was sure he would ignore 
 what she told him, even as she had scarcely heeded Joe. 
 
 Jeannie had not heart to go farther; the stream she 
 had once loved showed signs of drying up ; growths of 
 stinging nettles covered the steep bank down which she used 
 to race her father. 
 
 She was, also, convinced that a like disappointment 
 awaited her in the bit of water beyond the soapworks 
 where the boys used to fish for tiddlers with a worm and 
 a piece of thread. 
 
 When she retraced her steps, she noticed the tide was 
 coming in. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to her (and the reahsation puUed 
 
368 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 her up short) that the water had passed within two 
 miles of " Larkslease " before reaching where she now 
 stood. 
 
 As it had left a place where she had been supremely happy, 
 to arrive at a spot where she was acutely miserable, it 
 seemed that in so doing it was typical of her life since the 
 days when she had lived and loved at Wicksea. 
 
 Quarter of an hour later, she was in a bus and going in 
 the direction of Barnes Common which, in being endeared 
 to her by reason of the many excursions she had once 
 upon a time made there with Joe, was to be another station 
 in her pUgrimage. 
 
 She was not in the mood to get out and call on the 
 sufferer at " Pyracantha " ; instead, she glanced sym- 
 pathetically at the window of the room where Mrs. 
 Baverstock lay. 
 
 Barnes Common, which, for all its proximity to 
 " Pyracantha," she had not visited for years, provided 
 further disappointment. 
 
 The adjacent green fields were heavily burdened with 
 bricks and mortar, and jarred her by presenting unexpected 
 and ugly vistas. 
 
 The pond that had contained quantities of the rare 
 water-mussel had been drained and was now covered with 
 trim villas, while search failed to discover the bit of water 
 where Joe had netted the " water-boatman " which had 
 stung his finger. 
 
 Half an hour later, she stood before the site of what had 
 once been " Laurel " Villa, the site because with other 
 adjacent houses it had been recently razed; a board 
 announced that " flats would shortly be erected on this 
 desirable situation." 
 
 Jeannie had been ignorant of the demolition of the old 
 home, it having long since passed from her possession. 
 
 She stood helplessly, while a thousand and one memories 
 of her old home struggled to dominate her mind, before 
 she sadly realised that " Laurel " Villa, together with much 
 
PILGRIMAGE 369 
 
 that she associated with the old days, had gone out of 
 her life never to return. 
 
 When she got to the cemetery, she was appalled by the 
 great number of tombstones which had made their appear- 
 ance since her last visit, indeed, since the time when Joe 
 was buried, the place had grown from a hamlet to a crowded 
 city. 
 
 As Jeannie sought Joe's resting-place, it occurred to 
 her that this town of the dead had much in common with 
 those inhabited by the Uving, inasmuch as there were 
 fine central avenues for the rich and well-to-do, lesser 
 places for the middling folk, whUe a shabby, unwholesome- 
 looking comer was reserved for the poor and needy. 
 
 In the old days, the burying-ground had been bounded 
 on three sides by fields ; now, serried ranks of houses 
 had menacingly advanced as near the boundaries as they 
 could get ; it was as if the living were alarmed at the 
 multiplication of the dead and had determined to set 
 limits to their increase. 
 
 Jeannie had a little difficulty in finding what she sought ; 
 since her last visit, Joe's resting-place, which was then 
 isolated, had been surroimded by graves : as a further 
 reminder of the passing of the years, the simple headstone 
 was grey and weather-beaten, the lettering had faded, 
 and the railed-in grave was sadly overgrown with weeds. 
 
 Its neglected appearance fiUed Jeannie with self-re- 
 proaches ; a few moments later, she had taken off her gloves 
 and was down on her knees tearing out the rank growth 
 with her fingers. 
 
 It was a long and arduous business ; even when she had 
 made something of a clearance, there was stiU much to be 
 done. 
 
 After making up her mind what flowers she would bring 
 and plant from the garden at home, her eye caught sight 
 of a familiar name on a stone to the right of Joe's. It 
 was that of Coop, her father's old friend, who, she observed, 
 had died two years ago. 
 24 
 
3;o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 She was deeply touched by this discovery ; also, that 
 he had elected to be in the company of his old friend, 
 which desire was evidence of the esteem in which he had 
 held her father. 
 
 Presently, Jeannie found herself wondering if Joe told 
 his stories in the world to which he had gone, and in that 
 event if, as of old, they were greeted with Coop's explosive 
 laughter. 
 
 Whether or not this were possible, they had fought the 
 good fight and now rested side by side. 
 
 Then Jeannie thought of Joe in his profound sleep, 
 below where she stood, with his magnificent indifference 
 to the anguish in her heart. 
 
 Tears fell out of her eyes, while the burdeii of her thoughts 
 was: 
 
 " If only he could know how bitterly, bitterly she 
 grieved for the heartless way she had repaid the unselfish 
 love he had lavished upon her ! " 
 
 It was a long time before she could tear herself away 
 she resolved to return with the flowers the very next day. 
 
 On the way back, she passed many children, at which 
 it occurred to her what an immense volume of tender 
 love they represented on the part of their respective 
 fathers and mothers. 
 
 At the same time, she was, also, fully aware that in 
 the days to come the inherent selfishness of many of these 
 children would lay up an infinity of sorrow for those parents 
 who disinterestedly loved them. 
 
 When she reached home about seven, although Joey 
 had not come in, her thoughts were stiU concerned with 
 her father. 
 
 After she had eaten the merest dinner, she surrounded 
 herself with many of his belongings ; now and again, 
 her eye fell on the Sheffield cruet which decorated the 
 sideboard. 
 
 One thing she had hitherto forgotten came into her mind, 
 this, how he had stayed on at the Railway Clearing House 
 
PILGRIMAGE 371 
 
 when he was entitled to retire, and with the idea of putting 
 by more money for his Jeannie. 
 
 She shamefacedly recalled that whUe he was thus deny- 
 ing himself for her, she, beyond her abidmg love for Edgar, 
 had been concerned with social ambitions. 
 
 How trivial and meaningless these seemed in the light 
 of her experience of later years. 
 
 Apart from her husband, she had had the supreme 
 possession of her father's devotion, but she had disregarded 
 the thing that was above price. 
 
 Excepting Edgar, Joe and his love were the outstanding 
 features of her life, and by comparison everything else now 
 seemed flat, stale, and unprofitable. 
 
 At the same time, she urged in extenuation of her conduct 
 that she was not altogether to blame. 
 
 Youth was synonymous with ignorance in such matters, 
 and due appreciation of the beautiful things in life could 
 only be learned from experience such as hers. 
 
 But although she had been incapable of learning the 
 value of a great, unselfish love, it did not alter the brutal 
 fact that Joe was unaware of her immense remorse. 
 
 " If only he could know ! " was again the burden of 
 her thoughts. 
 
 Perhaps, because she had some hope of Joe ultimately 
 divining what was in her heart, was why that night she 
 prayed long and passionately at her bedside that He, in 
 His infinite mercy, might cause long-deaf ears to hearken. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 
 
 Three days later, Jeannie set out from home, when Joey 
 had gone to the City, with a heavy heart. She had again 
 visited the cemetery but, to-day, she was bound on a 
 different errand ; it was undertaken after a conversation 
 she had had with Joey the preceding morning. 
 
 The cruet had caught his eye upon the sideboard, at 
 which he had said : 
 
 " Why that ? " 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Bit old-fashioned, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Indeed ! " she had coldly remarked. 
 
 " Where did you dig it up ? " 
 
 " It belonged to my father." 
 
 The suggestion of resentment in her voice made him 
 regard her curiously. 
 
 " What was he ? " 
 
 " He was in the Railway Clearing House." 
 
 " The what ? " 
 
 " The Railway Clearing House." 
 
 " A clerk ? " 
 
 " He was the head of a department." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " 
 
 It was an unfortunate moment for Joey to make such 
 a remark ; Jeannie was possessed by sudden anger as she 
 said: 
 
 " My father was the best man who ever lived. If you 
 don't behave properly to me, you shall speak respectfully 
 of him." 
 
THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 373 
 
 Joey stared in open-mouthed surprise at this exhibition 
 of wrath in his normally gentle, indulgent mother. 
 
 " What on earth's happened ? " he asked, when he had 
 got over his first astonishment. 
 
 " That I won't have you saying anything against my 
 dear father." 
 
 " All right, mater." 
 
 " He was perfect." 
 
 Joey hung his head to conceal a grin, but Jeannie was too 
 quick for him. 
 
 " Why do you laugh ? " she asked sharply. 
 
 " No man is perfect, pretty mater. That's where your 
 innocence comes in ! " 
 
 " My father was." 
 
 " No doubt to you. But if you'd known everything, 
 I wouldn't mind betting he was just the same as " 
 
 " Stop ! " 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " If you say any more, we shall quarrel." 
 
 This discussion had taken place at the breakfast table ; 
 a httle later, when Joey had risen to go, and said " Good- 
 bye, mater," she merely replied : 
 
 " Good-bye." 
 
 " Don't you want to know what time I'll be back ? " 
 he asked in surprise. 
 
 " You must please yourself." 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " You usually do, don't you ? " 
 
 " But " 
 
 " And let me tell you this : however much you neglect 
 me, you'll regret it some day." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " When you marry and have children of your own ; go 
 now or you'll have to run," said Jeannie, at which a greatly 
 perplexed Joey took his way to the station. 
 
 Jeannie had rebelliously brooded over Joey's reflection 
 on her father ; she presently recollected that the latter's 
 
374 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 landlady had told her of a woman living in Hammersmith 
 he had been in the habit of visiting. 
 
 She had completely forgotten the circumstance, and as 
 she dwelt upon it, she the more resented the ordinary 
 construction which would be put on such an acquaint- 
 anceship : she was certain that her dearest Joe had led a 
 stainless life. 
 
 She essayed to forget the matter, but, try as she might, 
 it persisted in invading her mind. 
 
 At last, she surrendered herself to the fascination the 
 subject held for her, which capitulation was followed by a 
 fierce anger with herself at entertaining unworthy thoughts 
 of such a man as Joe. 
 
 To punish herself for her suspicions, also, to satisfy her- 
 self if there had been any foundation for their existence, 
 she resolved to try and discover the woman in question, 
 and in the event of doing so to endeavour to ascertain the 
 truth, even after so many years had elapsed. 
 
 There were endless difficulties in the way as she could 
 not remember the landlady's or the other woman's name ; 
 obstacles, however, strengthened her determination, she 
 regarding the effort to clear her father's memory as a further 
 atonement for her behaviour. 
 
 She was for starting for Putney and making inquiries at 
 once ; although she had forgotten the landlady's name, 
 she knew the house in which Joe had passed away, and 
 believed that if she were not stOl living there, she (Jeannie) 
 might be able to trace the woman, if still ahve. 
 
 A few minutes' reflection, however, convinced her of the 
 hopelessness of her projected quest, landladies belonging 
 to a migratory class ; also, to inquire of the average 
 Londoner for a woman of unknown name who had lived in a 
 certain house some twenty years back would be to make 
 the questioner liable to a suspicion of lunacy. 
 
 Jeannie, in despair of learning that on which she had 
 set her heart, was about to abandon the project, when it 
 occurred to her that, more likely than not, she would 
 
THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 375 
 
 find the landlady's name among the memoranda Joe had 
 left : this was stored in the bureau that had belonged 
 to him. 
 
 She acted upon the suggestion, when it did not take her 
 long to find that the name of the woman she wanted 
 was Mrs. Ebbage. 
 
 Possessed of this information, she resolved to commence 
 her search on the following day ; hence her journey to 
 town. 
 
 Arrived at Putney, she made for the little street where 
 Joe had lodged and died. 
 
 Here, disappointment awaited her : for the house was 
 empty, while a board announced that it was to let. 
 
 She made inquiries at adjacent dwellings, to hear that 
 the house had been vacant some time, and that the name 
 of the previous occupier was Lamb. 
 
 Jeannie remembered there were shops round the comer 
 and proceeded to these in the hope of tracing the landlady. 
 
 The information she received was unsatisfactory ; al- 
 though most of the shopkeepers remembered Mrs. Ebbage, 
 Jeannie successively learned that she was living in Rich- 
 mond ; that she was dead ; that she had gone to the 
 seaside ; that she had married again and emigrated to 
 Canada. 
 
 Jeannie despaired of getting anything definite, when a 
 sharp-eyed girl at a milk-shop flatly contradicted her 
 mother, who had said Mrs. Ebbage had moved to Southend, 
 by declaring she had gone to live in Wandsworth, and that 
 she (the informant) had seen her go into a house in Ravens- 
 croft Road a fortnight ago. 
 
 Upon hearing that the road in question was short and 
 the house Mrs. Ebbage had entered was about the middle 
 of the left-hand side, Jeannie set off for Wandsworth. 
 
 As she had expected, Ravenscroft Road was a down-at- 
 heel little street, but although she inquired at several 
 houses in the middle of the left-hand side, she could learn 
 nothing of Mrs. Ebbage. 
 
376 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Thinking the girl may have made a mistake as to which 
 side of the road she had seen the woman, Jeannie crossed 
 over, when the first door at which she knocked was opened 
 by an owlish-looking slut. 
 " Mrs. Ebbage ? " inquired Jeannie. 
 "What say?" 
 " Mrs. Ebbage ! " 
 
 The girl stared stupidly before saying : 
 " What nyme ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Baverstock ! " As she saw that the girl con- 
 tinued to look at her with staring eyes and dropped jaw, 
 she added : " Say Mrs. Edgar Baverstock, some one who 
 used to know her, would like to see her." Hardly were 
 the words out of her mouth, when a faded, small-featured, 
 middle-aged woman, who might once have been pretty, 
 came into the hall, to ask in a listlessly refined voice : 
 " Who is it you want, please ? " 
 " A Mrs. Ebbage. She used to let rooms." 
 " She doesn't live here," replied the woman, who looked 
 at Jeannie somewhat curiously. 
 " I'm sorry." 
 
 She turned to go, when the woman said : 
 " Excuse me, but did you sayyourname was Baverstock?" 
 " I did ! " 
 " Were you Jeannie PUcher before you married ? " 
 
 " I was. Why " 
 
 " I suppose you've forgotten Gertrude Stubbs at 
 Clarence College, who married Mr. Scott ? " 
 
 " You Gertrude Scott ? " cried Jeannie, who could hardly 
 believe that the faded woman before her was the romantic 
 beauty she had known in the days of her youth. 
 
 " Won't you come in ? " said Gertrude, with no particular 
 enthusiasm, notwithstanding which, Jeannie accepted the 
 invitation ; she remembered how her old friend's sweet- 
 heart had threatened to shoot himself unless she ran 
 away and married him ; she was eager to know how the 
 once pretty Gertrude had fared. 
 
THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 377 
 
 " Fancy meeting you, and after all these years. I heard 
 you'd married one of the Baverstocks, but forget who told 
 me. It's such a long time ago," said Gertrude, as she 
 listlessly led the way to a small and very stuffy room. 
 
 This was furnished in a mid- Victorian style with a 
 horsehair suite, a round table in the middle of the room, 
 and a gilt-framed mirror on the mantelshelf ; three oil- 
 painted portraits of two old women and one elderly man 
 decorated the walls. 
 
 The room had the cold, xminviting appearance of one 
 that is rarely used, but although Jeannie was anxious to 
 get impressions of her friend's home, she did not perceive 
 this formality by reason of the offensive atmosphere ; 
 she had noticed it faintly when standing at the door, 
 but now she was in the house, it seemed to overpower 
 her with its persistence. 
 
 It was as if doors and windows had never been opened, 
 and in consequence the greasy reek arising from the cooking 
 of innumerable scratch meals had permeated the very 
 walls of the dwelling. 
 
 " Sit down," continued Gertrude. " Whatever I may 
 have done, you certainly haven't lost your looks." 
 
 " Indeed ! " murmured Jeannie, who could not truth- 
 fully have returned the compliment. 
 
 " And how has the world used you all this time ? " 
 
 Jeannie briefly outlined her history since she had lost 
 sight of her friend. 
 
 " Where are you living now ? " asked Gertrude, after 
 hstening impassively. 
 
 " Woodbridge in Essex." 
 
 " Nice there ? " 
 
 " As good as you'll get near town." 
 
 " Rates high ? " 
 
 " They are rather." 
 
 " Rates are a worry," declared Gertrude wearily. " Rent 
 I understand and am usually ready for, but rates come 
 when I least expect them." 
 
378 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Jeannie curiously regarded her friend, who then asked : 
 
 " Beef gone up with you ? " 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
 " Perhaps you're lucky and don't have to worry about 
 things ? " 
 
 " I get along somehow." 
 
 " I read in a paper Eustace brought home that beef's 
 going up, and it worried me. Now I think of it though, I 
 believe it was an old paper." 
 
 " How is your husband ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " All right," declared Gertrude indifferently. " Any 
 family ? " 
 
 " A boy. He's nearly twenty." 
 
 " A boy ? " she asked, without exhibiting the least 
 interest. 
 
 " He's taller than I am," said Jeannie proudly. 
 
 Gertrude was silent. 
 
 " Tell me all about yourself," requested Jeannie, after a 
 dreary pause. " I've been talking of myself ever since I've 
 been here." 
 
 Instead of taking advantage of this invitation, Gertrude 
 asked: 
 
 " How much did you give for that coat and skirt ? " 
 
 Jeannie told her. 
 
 " I can't afford anything like that," sighed the other. 
 " I have to get my things second-hand." 
 
 " What does your husband do ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Can't he get anything ? " 
 
 " He doesn't try." 
 
 " Really ! " 
 
 " He's done no regular work for years." 
 
 " Doesn't it worry you ? " 
 
 " What's the use ! " 
 
 " I should have thought you couldn't help worry- 
 ing ! " 
 Gertrude helplessly shrugged her shoulders. 
 
THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 379 
 
 There was another pause ; this time, it was broken by 
 Gertrude, who said : 
 
 " I suppose you have a proper servant and late dinners ? " 
 
 By way of reply, Jeannie said : 
 
 " You must come and stay a few days." 
 
 " You don't mean it ? " remarked Gertrude indifferently. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I mean it ? " 
 
 '' Oh ! People say those things." 
 
 " I mean it : really, I do." 
 
 " Thank you," said Gertrude, with a faint approach to 
 warmth. 
 
 There was evidently much amiss with Gertrude, and 
 Jeannie more than suspected her husband to be the cause, 
 he probably being what Titterton would call a " waster." 
 
 Jeannie set about tactfully ascertaining if this were the 
 case, to meet with no particular success, Gertrude apparently 
 having no interest in life, herself, or anything about her, 
 and was in consequence disinclined to speak of anything 
 personal. 
 
 Another silence was broken by Gertrude, who asked : 
 
 " Who is the woman you were inquiring f or ? " 
 
 Jeannie told her it was some one she much wished to trace, 
 and this recalled her to the necessity of prosecuting her 
 search without further delay. 
 
 When she rose to go, however, Gertrude surprised her by 
 asking her to stay for midday dinner, but when Jeannie 
 declined, her friend looked so miserably disappointed that 
 she changed her mind. 
 
 " Thank you," said Gertrude. " Perhaps you'll come 
 into the kitchen while I see about it." 
 
 She led the way to the place mentioned when Jeannie's 
 love of neatness and cleanliness was horrified at perceiving 
 the hopeless disorder which obtained. 
 
 Unwashed breakfast-things, among which was the 
 skeleton of a herring. Uttered the table ; clothes were airing 
 before the fire ; kitchen utensils were anywhere and every- 
 where, while bags containing odds and ends of foodstuffs 
 
38o THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 had been put on chairs, while in some instances their contents 
 had been spilled on the floor ; the sour atmosphere, to which 
 Jeannie had got accustomed, was violently perceptible. 
 
 Much to Jeannie's surprise, Gertrude made no comment 
 on the dirt and confusion ; she did not appear to notice it, 
 indeed, the fact of her taking it all as a matter of course and 
 not referring to the prevailing imtidiness before a com- 
 parative stranger further informed Jeannie of the depths of 
 callous indifference to which Gertrude had fallen. 
 
 After removing a torn bag of flour from a chair, and 
 wiping it in order that her guest might sit, Gertrude made 
 up the fire and sent the slut (her name was Doris) to the 
 pork-butcher's for sausages for which her mistress was 
 some time finding the money. 
 
 When these were brought, Jeannie borrowed a kitchen 
 apron and insisted on giving a hand with the laying of the 
 table and the grilling of the sausages : while these were 
 cooking, Gertrude looked in her purse for money to send for 
 beer. 
 
 " Don't get it for me, dear. I never drink anything," 
 protested Jeannie. 
 
 " We'll have some beer if I can find the money." 
 
 " I've plenty of change," declared Jeannie, as she pro- 
 duced a shilling. 
 
 " I'm short and beer cheers me up," said Gertrude, when 
 the servant had gone. 
 
 The knives were stained, and Jeannie set about cleaning 
 them when Gertrude said : 
 
 " Don't clean any for me." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Isn't worth the bother." 
 
 " Won't your husband be in ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " I don't know," replied the other diffidently. 
 
 " Doesn't he tell you ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Supposing he comes ? " 
 
 " What then ? " asked Gertrude listlessly. 
 
THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 381 
 
 Jeannie looked at her with questioning eyes, but Gertrude 
 continued to wipe impassively the tumbler she had been 
 washing. 
 
 Directly the beer was brought, Gertrude poured out two 
 glasses and drank the best part of one before she had 
 any food ; it seemed to get in her head, for very soon she 
 spoke quickly with a tendency to run her words into each 
 other. 
 
 Presently, she said : 
 
 " Any chance of your marrying again ? " 
 
 " I could if I wished to." 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " To a man I knew when I was living at home." 
 
 " Money ? " 
 
 " Plenty." 
 
 '-' And he loves you ? " 
 
 " He wishes to marry me. I can't make up my mind." 
 
 A few moments later, she noticed tears in Gertrude's 
 eyes. 
 
 Jeannie essayed to comfort her, but her sympathy had 
 the effect of undoing her friend's remaining self-control ; 
 Gertrude wept unrestrainedly. 
 
 " Eat your dinner, dear," said Jeannie. " You wiU be 
 better then." 
 
 " Meeting you has upset me," declared Gertrude. 
 
 " I am sorry." 
 
 " Seeing you so happy and me " 
 
 " I'm afraid you're not happy," said Jeannie, as the other 
 was unable to finish her sentence. 
 
 " How could I be ? " asked Gertrude presently. 
 
 " Is it to do with your husband ? " 
 
 Gertrude nodded. 
 
 " And you married with such prospects of happiness ! " 
 
 " That was then. He hasn't worked properly for years. 
 And he's taken up with some one else." 
 
 " Another woman ? " 
 
 " She's a Mrs. Fawcett. I don't think there's anything 
 
382 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 in it. I wouldn't much mind if Eustace would only be 
 amiable. Sometimes he doesn't speak for days." 
 
 " I am sorry," declared Jeannie, in all sincerity. 
 
 Gertrude went on : 
 
 " That's one of the reasons I wanted you to stay. If he 
 came in and found a pretty, smart-looking woman, it might 
 make him amiable to me." 
 
 A little later, she said, as she strove to restrain her 
 tears : 
 
 " Usually I'm used to it. But your coming and all made 
 me remember. And you've hardly eaten any sausage." 
 
 Jeannie, who was in no mood for eating, looked com- 
 passionately on the troubled woman ; as she gazed there came 
 to her mind memories of the old days when Gertrude in 
 the pride of her youth and romantic comeliness had looked 
 confidently forward to a life which would be ever fragrant 
 with romance. 
 
 Then Jeannie thought of the happy-go-lucky carelessness 
 with which they had each regarded the vista of years 
 which had so promisingly stretched before them ; they had 
 both looked forward to a happy, sunny future, and they had 
 each learned the inevitable lesson that for the great majority 
 of mankind the way of life was hard and bestrewn with 
 innumerable pitfalls. 
 
 At the same time, she did not attempt to hide from 
 herself that she had fared considerably better than her 
 friend, indeed, she lingered on this evident fact as in so 
 doing it lightened her own burden of sorrow. 
 
 Jeannie stayed longer than she had originally intended, 
 for when she made another effort to go, in order to resume 
 her search for Mrs. Ebbage, such a pitful look came into 
 Gertrude's eyes as she asked her to stay for tea that she had 
 not the heart to refuse. 
 
 She was sorry for, and genuinely sympathised with, her 
 friend ; also, she was thankful to obtain some interruption, 
 however short, of her own sufferings. 
 
 For a time, as if to show gratitude for Jeannie's company 
 
THE SEQUEL TO ROMANCE 383 
 
 Gertrude was communicative, when she told Jeannie how 
 all her old relations had dropped her ; that she had not a 
 friend in the world, and that she and her husband were 
 living on the hundred a year her mother had left her. 
 
 Presently, however, she relapsed into her former passivity, 
 which was so helpless and hopeless that it appalled warm- 
 hearted Jeannie. 
 
 About four, Gertrude was making tea, when a key was 
 heard in the latch of the front door, at which a look of 
 dismay invaded her face as she said : 
 
 " Eustace ! He'll be angry I've brought you in here." 
 
 " What shall I do ? '; 
 
 " Keep quiet. He mayn't come here. If he does, I'll 
 try and get him away before he sees you." 
 
 A few moments later, Jeannie perceived from the corners 
 of her eyes, a tall, middle-aged, remarkably handsome man, 
 with grey hair and dark eyes, lounge against the kitchen 
 door ; he was smoking what seemed to be a very good 
 cigar ; apparently he did not see his wife's visitor. 
 
 " Good afternoon ! " said Gertrude. 
 
 Her husband vouchsafed no reply. 
 
 " You didn't come in to dinner ! " she remarked. 
 
 He took no notice. 
 
 " I found some papers of yours which I put in your 
 room." 
 
 He continued smoking as before. 
 
 " I believe the gas is escaping upstairs. I wish you'd go 
 and see." 
 
 He still ignored his wife, and Jeannie, whose nerves had 
 been jarred by his indifference, repressed an inclination to 
 cry out. 
 
 At last, made desperate by his exasperating rudeness, 
 Gertrude said : 
 
 " Don't you see I've a visitor ? " 
 
 Scott's fine eyes looked about the kitchen till he saw 
 Jeannie, when surprise and gratification were expressed 
 in his face. 
 
384 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " You've heard me speak of Jeannie Pilcher ? There she 
 is, and she's now Mrs. Baverstock," explained Gertrude. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Baverstock, how truly delighted I am to 
 meet you," he declared effusively, as he advanced on Jeannie. 
 " Why didn't you tell me before, dearest ? " he asked of his 
 wife. " And why on earth did you askher in this kitchen ? " 
 
 Jeannie was so annoyed at the change in his manner 
 that she took the earliest opportunity of going, and would 
 not allow Scott to accompany her to the station, a courtesy 
 he was eager to perform. 
 
 She, also, contrived for Gertrude to see her to the door, 
 when Jeannie said : 
 
 " Don't forget to come down." 
 
 " I've nothing nice enough to come in." 
 
 Jeannie was so moved by her friend's extremity that she 
 produced her purse and gave Gertrude two sovereigns. 
 
 The unexpected gift somewhat roused Gertrude from her 
 appealing apathy ; after thanking Jeannie, she said : 
 
 " Mrs. Fawcett had a new hat the month before last. 
 If Eustace sees me in something smart, he may be more 
 amiable when we're alone." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 JOE'S LADY FRIEND 
 
 It was owing to Gertrude that Jeannie succeeded in 
 discovering her father's landlady. 
 
 Jeannie did her best, but without achieving any results ; 
 it was only when she confided her lack of success to her 
 friend on her third visit to Wandsworth that the latter 
 volunteered her assistance. 
 
 Jeannie forthwith gave Gertrude the necessary informa- 
 tion, stipulating she should pay any expenses to which 
 her friend might be put. 
 
 Four days after this arrangement had been made, 
 Jeannie was at home when about three in the afternoon 
 she received a telegram which said : 
 
 " Mrs. Ebbage, now Mrs. Bond, 23 Paradise Street, 
 Stockwell.— Scott." 
 
 Jeannie at once set off for this address ; it was not 
 till she again saw Gertrude that she learned how the 
 former Mrs. Ebbage had been found. 
 
 It appeared that Gertrude had earned the gratitude 
 of a postman, who had been bitten by a neighbour's 
 savage dog, by speaking for him and preventing him from 
 losing his pay while laid up, which would otherwise have 
 been the case. 
 
 She had consulted this man, who, with the facili- 
 ties at his command, had traced Mrs. Ebbage (she had 
 recently married again) and had furnished her present 
 address. 
 
 Jeannie had the haziest idea where Stockwell was 
 situated, consequently it was something after six when 
 25 
 
386 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 she turned into Paradise Street, a squalid thoroughfare 
 which belied its name. 
 
 After Jeannie had knocked twice at 23, she heard 
 the footsteps of some one approaching who was troubled 
 with a cough ; very soon, the door was opened a couple of 
 feet by a white-faced, haggard-looking, elderly workman. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Bond at home ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Yus." 
 
 " She was Mrs. Ebbage, I think ? " 
 
 " Yus, yus." 
 
 " Tell her that Mrs. Baverstock would like to see her." 
 
 The man looked perplexed, at which Jeannie asked : 
 
 " Is there any reason why I shouldn't ? " 
 
 " Missus ain't well. I'U see." 
 
 The man shuffled along the passage and presently 
 returned, to ask the caUer to walk in ; she followed him 
 to the kitchen, where a strange sight met her eye. 
 
 Before a blazing fire, although it was a hot May day, 
 reclined on an American wicker sofa a fat and jolly- 
 looking woman whom Jeannie at once recognised as her 
 father's landlady ; twenty years had scarcely made a 
 difference to her appearance ; as on the last occasion 
 Jeannie had seen her, she was clad in a soiled wrapper. 
 
 The place was none too clean ; mixed up with the 
 kitchen things were many patent medicine bottles, more 
 or less empty, and several pill boxes. 
 
 " 'Ow are you, dear ? " asked Mrs. Ebbage in a faint 
 voice, directly she caught sight of her visitor ; at the same 
 time, she offered her hand, which Jeannie from motives 
 of expediency took. 
 
 " I've had such trouble to find you," said Jeannie. 
 
 " It oughtn't to be difficult, me being almost a public 
 character as you might say, and as I'm always telling 
 Bond." 
 
 Here she glanced at her husband who, while fetching 
 bread and dripping from a cupboard, was seized with a fit 
 of coughing. 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 387 
 
 " Indeed I " remarked Jeannie. 
 
 " I'll bet you thought me with my bad 'ealth was dead 
 an' done for years ago. Although I looks after meself, I 
 shall never make very old bones." 
 
 " I tried to find you in Wandsworth," remarked Jeannie. 
 
 " I was there a lot two or three weeks back." 
 
 " I heard you had been seen there." 
 
 " I went to a 'ouse in Ravenscroft Road after an old 
 ' visitor ' who owes me for rent and coals." Here, memory 
 of the defaulting lodger endowed Mrs. Bond with a robust 
 anger which was at variance with her professions of ill- 
 health. 
 
 " It served me something crool," declared Mrs. Bond, 
 as she remembered to speak in a weak voice. " And not 
 to get anythink except abuse ! It made me so bad, I 
 had to lie on me back for two days. Isn't that gospel. 
 Bond ? " 
 
 " Yus, yus," he replied, as he set about making his tea. 
 
 " Since you're so fond of looking after yourself, can't you 
 give me the ' Green ' pill I take at six? " she asked of her 
 husband. 
 
 Bond neglected his tea to get his wife the pill and water 
 in a tumbler ; after the patient had swallowed the former 
 with every elaboration of affected nausea, Jeannie mis- 
 chievously asked: 
 
 " Don't you get your husband's tea ? " 
 
 The invalid was so taken aback by this question that 
 it was some time before she could reply : 
 
 " Me, a dying woman'. " 
 
 Jeannie did not wish to oifend Mrs. Bond, so she said : 
 
 " I quite forgot. I beg your pardon." 
 
 " Granted. Bond ! Offer the lady a cup." 
 
 " No, thank you, I've had mine. I wanted to find you 
 as I wished to ask you something about my father, whom 
 you may remember." 
 
 For all her extremity, Mrs. Bond waxed eloquent in 
 praise of Joe's virtues ; she had never forgotten him by 
 
388 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 reason of his being the only ' visitor ' who had met his obliga- 
 tions with unfailing punctuality. 
 
 Then, while Bond frequently interrupted his tea to attend 
 to the real or fancied needs of his wife, Jeannie, by easy 
 stages, led the conversation to the subject of Joe's mysteri- 
 ous friend. Directly she mentioned her, Mrs. Bond cried : 
 
 " That there Miss 'Acker ! " 
 
 "Was that her name? Then you haven't forgotten 
 her ! " exclaimed Jeannie thankfully. 
 
 " I'U never do that to me dying day. Soon after your 
 pa died, I was that bad, I took six bottles of ' HaUey's ' 
 tonic ; it was jess pulling me round, and I was starting 
 on the seventh when that there Miss 'Acker came and 
 raised ' heU and Tommy ' because your pa hadn't left 
 her anythink. It fair got me in the liver ! " 
 
 " Do you remember where she lived? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " Mansion House Street, Hammersmith, No. 17. By 
 the 'T.O.V.'" 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 " The ' Temple of Varieties ' as it used to be called," 
 said Mrs. Bond languidly. 
 
 Jeannie, having obtained the information she wanted, 
 was anxious to go, but Mrs. Bond had entered upon a 
 description of how she had been given up for lost until 
 she had been rescued from an untimely grave by the 
 beneficially drastic action of advertised patent medicines. 
 
 Perhaps she noticed Jeannie was restless during these 
 intimate confidences for, by way of propitiating her caller, 
 she presently said : 
 
 " I often heard of you when I was in Putney." 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 "There's always a lot of talk about swells like the 
 Baverstocks. And I dare say you've heard of me being a 
 sort of public character as you might say?" 
 
 " You mentioned that before ! " 
 
 " And that's why I tell Bond he'd such a stroke of luck in 
 marrying me." 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 389 
 
 " He doesn't look very strong," remarked Jeannie. 
 
 " He so worrits about me, seeing me fade before his eyes," 
 sighed the patient, to add to her husband : " Get them 
 papers of ' Green ' pills, ' HaUey's ' tonic, and the ' DubUn ' 
 linament." 
 
 While Bond looked for what was wanted, bread and 
 dripping in hand, Mrs. Bond said: 
 
 " I was that sorry to hear when you lost your husband." 
 
 Jeannie bit her lip. 
 
 " I heard of it the first day I used the ' Dublin ' linament 
 for rheumatism ; that's how I remember it." 
 
 Jeannie rose to go. 
 
 " You mustn't go till you've had them papers." 
 
 " But I don't want any medicine." 
 
 " It's to see me,'' snapped Mrs. Bond. 
 
 Just then. Bond approached with the prospectuses of 
 patent medicines which contained common woodcuts of 
 a self-conscious Mrs. Bond ; these were accompanied 
 by copious details of her aggravated symptoms and conse- 
 quent despair untU she had come upon an exact description 
 of her ailments in the advertised specifics ; as a last desper- 
 ate resource she had taken these, to obtain immediate relief, 
 which was followed by an incredibly rapid recovery. 
 
 " One way and another, I b'leeve the medicine I've 
 took would float a Margate steamer," said Mrs. Bond. 
 " And the piUs I've swallowed 'ud fill that there scuttle." 
 
 Jearmie's inquiries in Mansion House Street, where 
 the road dips far below the level of the pavement, to clear 
 the railway arches, provided, contrary to expectation, 
 some information, the woman who had tenanted 17, 
 twenty years back (she had only moved across the street), 
 teUing her that Miss Hacker and her httle niece had dis- 
 appeared some time back in a sudden access of prosperity ; 
 more than this the woman, whose name was Rudkin, 
 could not furnish. 
 
 Jeannie took counsel with Gertrude (she did not wish 
 her solicitors to have anything to do with the matter). 
 
390 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 and, as a result of their deliberations, advertisements were 
 put in the popular Sunday papers saying that, if Miss 
 Hacker, who lived at 17 Mansion House Street, Hammer- 
 smith, in 1890 or thereabouts, would communicate with 
 the advertiser, she would hear of something to her advan- 
 tage. 
 
 In the interval of waiting for replies, Jeannie was still 
 a prey to remorse ; she spent hours in striving to recall 
 everyday incidents of her home life at " Laurel " Villa : 
 the many instances of selfishness or remissness that she 
 could remember having exhibited towards her father 
 caused her long-drawn pain ; this was occasionally miti- 
 gated when she was able to recall infrequent acts of tender- 
 ness. 
 
 Although she was gratified that there was some possi- 
 bility of finding Miss Hacker, and thus enabling her to 
 discover the truth of her father's relations with the latter, 
 she was distressed at Mrs. Bond's telling her how the other 
 woman had made a disturbance when she had called on 
 the landlady after Joe's death ; the fact of her expecting 
 some sort of a legacy suggested that their relations had 
 been intimate. Should they have been what she feared, 
 it would only add fuel to the flames of her remorse, 
 inasmuch as her neglect had been responsible for her 
 father's conduct. 
 
 When she received the replies to her advertisements 
 from the newspaper of&ces, she was astonished by the 
 number of Miss Hackers (their initials were unanimously 
 illegible) who had lived in Mansion House Street, Hammer- 
 smith, at the time mentioned ; moreover, the letters had 
 much in common, being written on flimsy paper and 
 apparently with a foul nib which had been dipped in a 
 meagre supply of ink ; they were indited from obscure 
 addresses. 
 
 With Gertrude's assistance, the letters were sorted into 
 districts, after which Jeannie occupied the best part of each 
 day in calling upon and interviewing her correspondents. 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 391 
 
 It was a dismal business for Jeannie. 
 
 The instincts of her class, upbringing, convictions, 
 indeed, of her very being, revolted against the women 
 she met, who were all more or less of a class to them- 
 selves. 
 
 Also, for the most part, they were in what were to them 
 the terrible " forties," when the much-raddled cheeks betray 
 their furrows, the belladonna-drugged eyes have lost their 
 lustre, the figmre has gone grossly to pieces, and the remain- 
 ing teeth, which are the stay of the dental plate, refuse to 
 perform longer their office. 
 
 As one woman they received Jeannie in rooms that 
 reeked of stale scent and toilet specialities while wearing 
 dirty dressing-gowns, when it did not take her long to 
 discover they were all arrant impostors. 
 
 She would not suffer Titterton or even Gertrude to 
 accompany her on these visits, although her quest took her 
 into queer places ; she believed that the revulsion she 
 acutely experienced was a further atonement to her father's 
 memory. 
 
 One thing she learned. 
 
 Often, when interviewing these women, she would 
 catch sight of her own reflection and that of the person 
 she was talking to in the glass ; the startling contrast 
 the two faces presented told her of the great gulf 
 existing between women Uke herself and those who were 
 vicious. 
 
 At last, when she had despaired of finding the Miss 
 Hacker her father had known, a belated letter arrived 
 from a woman who declared her aunt was the person 
 advertised for ; it was written from a house in the 
 Lambeth Road. 
 
 Jeannie made inquiries by letter ; the reply suggesting 
 that she had found the person she sought, she made an 
 appointment for the following afternoon. 
 
 When, with considerable trepidation, Jeannie knocked at 
 the door of the forlorn-looking house at something after 
 
392 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 four, she wondered if she were going to see a woman who at 
 all differed from the many she had already interviewed. 
 
 Almost directly, she was aware that a head had been 
 thrust from the first-floor window and quickly withdrawn ; 
 a few moments later, some one ran downstairs and opened 
 th^ door. 
 
 '' Are you the lady that wrote ? " asked a pretty, blowsy 
 girl with a big red mouth. 
 
 " I'm Mrs. Baverstock," said Jeannie. 
 
 " Aunty isn't very well, but I've done me best with her. 
 Please come hup." 
 
 Jeannie followed the girl, who, she noticed, wore open- 
 work silk stockings and high-heeled shoes, to a sitting-room 
 on the first floor, where a woman seated on a sofa before a 
 table at once riveted her attention. 
 
 It was not so much the remains of great personal beauty 
 which attracted her as the appearance and atmosphere of 
 Miss Hacker ; although she was obviously a confirmed 
 dipsomaniac, there was no denying that she had a person- 
 ality of sorts. 
 
 Perhaps this had been responsible for a life which was 
 written in her face for those who had eyes to see. 
 
 Jeannie noticed with a shudder that the woman's hard, 
 almost brutal, expression suggested lifelong indulgence in 
 base passions ; moreover, there was a reckless defiance in her 
 bearing which was eloquent of one who sins, not from 
 misfortune, but from choice ; of one who revels in evil- 
 doing. 
 
 Yet, for all her obvious subservience to things of the 
 flesh, this wreck of once aUuring humanity still possessed 
 an indefinable fascination ; her movements were occasion- 
 ally graceful, while her head was nobly set upon her ample 
 shoulders. 
 
 As Jeannie noticed these things, her heart sank ; she 
 feared it was all too probable that her father had suc- 
 cumbed to the manifold attractions Miss Hacker had once 
 possessed. 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 393 
 
 Then her attention was arrested by the woman's eyes : 
 these, which were of a deep blue, were hard, opaque, 
 expressionless, while the whites were shot with blood and 
 tinged with yellow ; when these were fixed on Jeannie, it 
 recalled to her mind the staring eyes she had seen in the 
 heads of dead and flayed oxen in butchers' shops. 
 
 Otherwise, Miss Hacker looked as if, much against her 
 will, she had been dragged from the untidy bed in the 
 adjoining room (Jeannie caught a glimpse of it through the 
 barely shut folding doors) and washed, and dressed, and kept 
 sober, and propped up by the table to receive the expected 
 visitor, which indeed was the case. 
 
 What Jeaimie did not know was that Miss Hacker was on 
 the verge of her third attack of delirium tremens. 
 
 Jeaimie had previously written to say that if this Miss 
 Hacker were the woman she wanted, she would give her two 
 pounds ; in the event of her being able to give certain 
 information, she would pay a further eight. 
 
 Jeannie's doubts as to the possibility of this being the 
 Miss Hacker she sought were quickly set at rest by the 
 pretty niece, whose name was Florrie, producing old 
 envelopes of letters and telegrams addressed to her aunt 
 at the Mansion House Street address : these she had 
 rummaged from boxes. 
 
 Jeannie's emotion at discovering the woman who had been 
 the solace of the last months of Joe's Ufe was interrupted 
 by Florrie, who was divided between civility to Jeannie and 
 a desire to keep her aunt in good humour. 
 
 The more Jeannie saw of the latter, the more she was 
 convinced of her mental extremity : at the least sound, she 
 would start violently ; now and again she would weep for no 
 reason at all. 
 
 Then Jeannie produced her purse and put two pounds 
 on the table ; the sight of the money fascinated the aunt, 
 who could not take her eyes from the gold ; she wept 
 copiously when Florrie grabbed the sovereigns, Ufted her 
 pretty skirts, and hid them in her stocking. 
 
394 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " What about the other height pounds ? " asked 
 Florrie, who, impressed by the refinement and social 
 position of the visitor, assumed what was intended to be 
 a fine society manner which sat ill on her seductive 
 vulgarity. 
 
 " I must first see if you can tell me what I want to 
 know," replied Jeannie. 
 
 She forthwith gave details of Joe's appearance and of the 
 period when he had visited Miss Hacker : to Jeannie's 
 consternation, the woman's mind was a blank on the 
 subject ; in reply to persistent inquiries, she feebly shook 
 her head. 
 
 Despairing of losing the eight sovereigns, Florrie took the 
 matter in hand ; with a mixture of cajolery and threats, 
 she fought hard to coax from her aunt the required in- 
 formation. 
 
 " Show her the money, dear. See if that'll do anything," 
 at last said Florrie desperately. " She'U always do anything 
 for the • needful.' " 
 
 Jeannie did as she was bid ; Miss Hacker's eyes were 
 fascinated by the sight of the gold, but when Florrie 
 further questioned her, she feU to whimpering. 
 
 " Blow her ! She's worse than I thought. She 
 deserves to be kept off drink for a week ! " cried Florrie. 
 
 " Wouldn't that do her good ? " asked Jeannie. 
 
 " I don't know when she's worse : when she has it, or 
 when she hasn't. But give her a rest. Then I'll try 
 again." 
 
 They waited, during which Jeannie noticed that Miss 
 Hacker frequently and furtively regarded a cupboard 
 on the other side of the fireplace to that on which she 
 sat. 
 
 " Know what she's after ? " asked Florrie. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Brandy. It's kept in that cupboard. If she got hold 
 of that, there'd be a fair chimozzle." 
 
 Jeannie, whose nerves had been jarred by this adventure 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 395 
 
 and the insight it had given her into other and less reputable 
 horizons than her own, was seriously considering the 
 advisability of leaving the money on the table and fleeing 
 from the house, when Florrie said : 
 
 " There's another old box on the landing upstairs ; 
 aunt was always a oner for storing rubbish ; I wondered 
 if there was hany letters there as 'ud teU you what you 
 want." 
 
 " How long would it take to look through it ? " asked 
 Jeannie. 
 
 " Not long. I'll get it if you like, and you would know 
 your pa's writing at a glance." 
 
 " If you wouldn't mind ! " 
 
 " Not at haU. Keep an eye on auntie while I'm 
 gone." 
 
 Florrie left the room, at which Jeannie knew an acute 
 discomfort at being left alone with the dipsomaniac. 
 
 Florrie was absent longer than she expected, but her 
 fears respecting Miss Hacker were soon allayed at noticing 
 she had fallen asleep. 
 
 To beguile the interval of waiting, Jeannie got up and 
 looked from the window on to the sorry squalor of the 
 Lambeth Road, but only for a moment. 
 
 Hearing a violent movement, she turned quickly, 
 to see Miss Hacker thrust aside the imprisoning table 
 and make for the cupboard, from which she snatched a 
 bottle of brandy ; pulling the cork with her teeth, she 
 swallowed mouthfuls of the raw spirit, at which Jeannie 
 perceived the woman's sleep had been a device to put her 
 off her guard. 
 
 A moment later, Florrie entered the room with a stout, 
 cardboard hat-box. 
 
 " You've bally weU done it," cried Florrie, at seeing what 
 was toward. " Now she's on the job." 
 
 Jeannie was minded to go, but was rooted to where she 
 stood by the violent alteration which took place in Miss 
 Hacker. 
 
396 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 A bestial expression invaded and possessed her face ; 
 her lips twitched ; her lifeless eyes looked as if they were 
 about to fall from her head ; her arms worked con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 Even then, with a supreme effort, Jeannie might have 
 torn herself away, but she was held to the room by Miss 
 Hacker's behaviour. 
 
 Clinging to the mantelshelf for support, she laughed 
 unmusically to herself, at first softly, then harshly. 
 
 Suddenly, she drew herself to her full height and 
 defiantly faced Jeannie with dead eyes as she said : 
 
 " Want to know about my life ? " 
 
 " Y — yes," faltered Jeannie. 
 
 " I'U tell you. Different to yours, y — know." 
 
 Without waiting for encouragement, she launched out 
 into intimate details of the more momentous incidents 
 in a life of cunning amorous adventure, speaking with a 
 facile and brutal coarseness of things that seared Jeannie's 
 senses like a corrosive fluid. The latter involuntarily put 
 out her hands as if to protest against the stream of sinful 
 confidences which flowed without intermission from the 
 woman's lips. 
 
 But Miss Hacker was not to be stayed. 
 
 AU too soon, Jeannie was dominated by her violence ; 
 while, in spite of herself, she listened with an understanding 
 which was shocked beyond measure, she was aware that 
 Florrie, wholly indifferent to her aunt's mental abandon- 
 ment, had lighted a cigarette. 
 
 A seemingly endless procession of mercenary infamies 
 was paraded before Jeannie's eyes. 
 
 It was as if some malign influence were taking a foul 
 delight in stirring the lees of a sordidly lascivious and 
 imaginative woman's soul. 
 
 At last, the revelations became so appalling that Jeannie 
 was about to stuff her fingers in her ears when she 
 heard the name of Joe Pilcher mentioned ; she listened 
 intently. 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 397 
 
 To her keen disappointment, Miss Hacker spoke of 
 other men, but just when Jeannie despaired of hearing 
 further of her father, the other woman said : 
 
 " Old Joe was a caution if ever there was one." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Jeannie, with all her nerves on 
 edge. 
 
 " Used to visit me twice a week. Walked over from 
 Putney Wednesdays an' Fridays, an' walked back. No 
 hansoms for him." 
 
 " What — what did he come for ? " Jeannie forced her- 
 self to ask. 
 
 Miss Hacker did not reply to this question, but 
 said: 
 
 " Once I asked him to lend me a racy book. What 
 d'ye think he brought ? No Maria Monks — Pickwick 
 Papers. How I did laugh when he had gone." 
 
 " What did he come for ? " repeated Jeannie ; Miss 
 Hacker still ignored her question as she continued : 
 
 " One night he broke down and told me he was cracking 
 up over a married daughter he never saw. He was a 
 Simple Simon." 
 
 Jeannie bit her lip ; the other went on : 
 
 " That's a fact. Broken up he was, and never so much 
 as had a drink to cheer himself up." 
 
 Jeannie's breath came fast. 
 
 " You ask me what he came for ? There wasn't much 
 wickedness about him." 
 
 " Please go on," pleaded Jeannie, as Miss Hacker 
 paused. 
 
 " He was the straightest gentleman I ever struck. Never 
 once so much as offered to kiss me, although I had then all 
 my looks and my teeth. And I gave him chances 
 enough when I heard money rattling in his pocket. If 
 it hadn't been for others, he'd have given me the fair 
 sick." 
 
 " What did he come for then ? " asked Jeannie breath- 
 lessly. 
 
398 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 " Come for ? Because he was lonely. Used to pay me 
 ten bob a time to read and talk to him." 
 
 " Sure ? Are you sure ? " cried a madly excited 
 Jeannie. 
 
 " Sure. Sure," repeated Miss Hacker. She then 
 turned to her niece to say : 
 
 " Yer know that broken elephant we found the other 
 day in that rubbish ? " 
 
 " Yes, moth — auntie ! " 
 
 " He give it to you." 
 
 " Have you still got it ? " asked Jeannie quickly. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " I want to see it. Please — please try and find 
 it." 
 
 Jeannie pleaded so earnestly that Florrie threw away 
 her cigarette and set about finding the toy elephant. 
 
 It was not very long before she came upon it, and directly 
 Jeannie saw the toy, she snatched the broken, shabby 
 plaything as she said : 
 
 " I'll give you a sovereign for it." 
 
 " Go on ! " 
 
 " Will you take it ? " 
 
 " You try me ! " rephed Florrie, who believed the visitor 
 must be what she called " balmy." 
 
 " And here is the other eight pounds," said Jeannie, 
 at which Florrie grabbed the money and, despite Miss 
 Hacker's violent protests, placed it in her stocking with 
 the other two sovereigns. 
 
 Jeannie scarcely noticed this action ; clasping her 
 treasure to her heart, she made for the door. 
 
 " Do 'ave a cup of tea," suggested Florrie, who scented 
 further easily gotten spoil. 
 
 " No, thank you. Good-bye." 
 
 " Don't hurry. Have a fag ! " 
 
 But Jeannie with her broken elephant had vanished 
 from the room. 
 
 Although her sufferings were increased a thousand- 
 
JOE'S LADY FRIEND 399 
 
 fold at realising she was responsible for having driven Joe 
 to such a creature as Miss Hacker in order to lessen his 
 loneliness, Jeannie endured her torments gladly, thank- 
 fully by reason of her father, contrary to her unworthy 
 suspicions, having led a stainless Ufe. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE SCENT OF THE MAY 
 
 Jeannie was a unit in a subdued gathering which had 
 assembled at " Pyracantha " to take a last farewell of 
 Mrs. Baverstock, whose very hours were numbered. 
 
 Joey, the Hiblings, BeviU and his wife waited with 
 Reuben and Mabel in the drawing-room, while the doctors 
 were doing their utmost to alleviate the agonies of the 
 stricken woman. 
 
 Her condition was such that it was at considerable 
 intervals that the members of the family presently went 
 upstairs one by one ; when it was Jeannie's turn, the 
 sufferer begged her to come again the last thing at night. 
 
 Jeannie, in addition to her grief at her sweet friend's 
 extremity, had endured so much of late that, when she 
 left the sick-room, she was disinclined for conversation ; 
 she moped by herself in a corner of the drawing-room. 
 
 For all her isolation of spirit, she was compelled from 
 time to time to speak to those who addressed her, one of 
 the most insistent being Joey, who had recently been 
 keeping late hours. 
 
 After making futile efforts to cheer his mother, he said : 
 
 " Some one was asking after you last night." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Can't you guess ? " 
 
 " How is he ? " 
 
 " AU right. He's going back to Canada soon " 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 "Unless " 
 
 " What ? " 
 
THE SCENT OF THE MAY 401 
 
 " Never mind. We've been having a fair old ' beano ' 
 together, but last night he was awfully down on his 
 luck." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I can guess, if you can't, pretty mater. And when 
 I said we should all probably be sent for here, he 
 said " 
 
 " WeU " 
 
 " Never mind," remarked Joey mischievously. 
 
 She would have questioned him further had not Mabel 
 come over to her just then and insisted on talking. 
 
 She scarcely referred to the loss she was about to sustain, 
 at which Jeannie asked : 
 
 " Doesn't your mother suffer very much ? " 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 Jeannie repeated her question. 
 
 " She says she doesn't very much," replied Mabel, " so I 
 don't see how she can." 
 
 " I'm not so sure. She looks dreadful." 
 
 " Anyhow, she doesn't know what it is. , And that's 
 much to be thankful for." 
 
 Later, when Reuben approached Jeannie he, also, 
 attempted to cheer her : not succeeding, he said : 
 
 " Still worrying about Joey going into business ? " 
 
 " Y — yes ! " replied Jeannie. 
 
 " That's where you're wrong, my dear Jeannie." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " I'm, unfortunately, an old man, but I've seen more of 
 life than you have, so let me tell you this. The secret of 
 happiness is not to bother oneself about others, but to think 
 more of self. Self, self and again self." 
 
 Between nine and ten Jeannie was again summoned to 
 the sick-room where her heart was wrung by the blanched 
 face of Edgar's mother. 
 
 The latter was unable to speak for awhile, but she 
 motioned for the nurse to leave the room and for Jeannie 
 to sit at the bedside. 
 26 
 
402 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 Presently, she was able to say : 
 
 " I wanted to ask your forgiveness, my sweet Jeannie." 
 
 " What for, dearest ? " 
 
 With an effort, the doomed woman summoned what little 
 strength was left her to whisper : 
 
 " Not coming to you when you married my boy. I 
 liked you from the first : you had soft eyes and I knew your 
 heart was kind. But when I wanted to come, it made 
 trouble with Reuben." 
 
 " Forget all that ! " urged Jeannie. 
 
 " I cannot and do not wish to. You were a good wife to 
 my dearest boy whom I shall soon meet again, and a good 
 mother to his son. He will be glad to know that. God 
 bless you." 
 
 Jeannie's emotion prevented her from speaking. 
 
 A little later, Mrs. Baverstock said : 
 
 " You are still young and have much before you. But 
 let me tell you this : If you wish to be happy, live for 
 others." 
 
 " I know ; I know," sobbed Jeannie. 
 
 Presently, she dried her eyes and was aU concern for the 
 patient's comfort, at which Mrs Baverstock said : 
 
 " I have much to be thankful for. Although I have 
 known all along what is the matter with me, I haven't 
 suffered so much as some. God has been very kind ! " 
 
 " You have known all along ? " asked Jeannie fearfully. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " They— we thought " 
 
 " I know. I said the contrary as I did not wish to 
 distress you all." 
 
 Jeannie was for sitting up all night with the sick woman, 
 but Mrs. Baverstock would not hear of it ; Jeannie only 
 fell in with her wishes upon the sufferer promising to send 
 for her in the night if she were worse. 
 
 Then, she held the fraU woman for quite a long time in 
 her arms whUe nothing was said ; as she was releasing her 
 hold, Mrs. Baverstock asked : 
 
THE SCENT OF THE MAY 403 
 
 " Would you do one thing for me ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Read me this : you are the only person here I care to 
 ask," she said, as she took a Bible from the table at her side 
 and opened it at a certain chapter : she then handed it to 
 Jeannie, who read while Mrs. Baverstock listened with closed 
 eyes: 
 
 " ' And as Jesus passed by, He saw a man which was blind 
 from his birth. 
 
 " ' And His disciples asked Him, saying, Master, who did 
 sin, this man, or his parents, that he was bom blind ? 
 
 " ' Jesus answered. Neither hath this man sinned, nor his 
 parents : but that the works of God should be made 
 manifest in him. 
 
 " ' I must work the works of Him that sent me, while it is 
 day : the night cometh, when no man can work.' " 
 
 She read to the end of the chapter when, upon glancing 
 at Mrs. Baverstock, she saw she had fallen asleep. 
 
 Jeannie waited some time, but as the other did not awaken 
 she kissed her, and after summoning the nurse, she stole 
 from the room. She kept awake for quite a long time 
 expecting to be sent for ; two or three times she crept to the 
 sufferer's door, but not hearing anything untoward she went 
 back to bed and presently fell asleep. 
 
 When Jeaimie awoke, the sun was high in a glorious sky, 
 at which she wondered at the stillness that obtained in the 
 house. 
 
 She was not left long in ignorance : very soon, the nurse 
 entered her room with her cup of tea, to tell her that Mrs. 
 Baverstock had passed away in the small hours ; although 
 conscious almost to the end, she would not suffer Jeannie to 
 have her rest disturbed by being summoned. 
 
 When Jeannie had got over the first shock at this dread 
 news and at this final instance of the dead woman's abiding 
 unselfishness, a strange thing happened. 
 
 Whether or not it was a consequence of the glad spring 
 day, reaction of her still youthful blood from the presence 
 
404 THE SINS OF THE CHILDREN 
 
 of Death, or a desire for happiness after her recent tribula- 
 tions of the spirit, she was ashamed to discover that she 
 was possessed of a passion for happiness. 
 
 In spite of herself, her thoughts obstinately dwelt on a 
 version of a text she had read the previous evening which 
 her mind persisted in forming. 
 It was as f oUows : 
 
 " I must love while it is day : the night cometh when no 
 woman can love." 
 
 She vainly attempted to shake off this unseemly pre- 
 possession, but such was its force that as soon after breakfast 
 as she could conveniently get away she put on her hat and 
 sought the gladness of the day which seemed to put an edge 
 upon her craving for happiness. 
 
 When she left the house, she had a distinct impression 
 that some one she knew very well was hovering in its 
 vicinity, at which she turned sharply in the direction of the 
 river ; although she had not looked, she was certain she was 
 being followed by Titterton. As she went, she occasionally 
 thought of Edgar, but just now she surrounded his memory 
 with a tender haze which she did not care to penetrate. 
 
 In the High Street, she was startled at hearing her name ; 
 she turned, to see she had been addressed by Scott, who was 
 accompanied by a woman. 
 
 " How is my dear Mrs. Baverstock? " he asked effusively. 
 
 " Fairly well ! How is Gertrude ? " 
 
 "Eh? She's all right. Let me introduce you to a friend 
 of mine, Mrs. Fawcett." 
 
 Jeannie very coldly bowed to the woman indicated, when 
 to her surprise she saw that, contrary to her expectation, 
 she was a plain, insignificant little frump who was dowdily 
 turned out. 
 
 Jeannie was anxious to go, but was detained by Scott, who 
 said :' 
 
 " Who's that chap eyeing you from the other side of the 
 road ? I believe he has been following you." 
 
 Without looking, Jeannie said a curt " Good-bye " and 
 
THE SCENT OF THE MAY 405 
 
 walked on, but when she arrived at the bridge her feet 
 instinctively sought the towpath. 
 
 Although she had not looked, she knew she was stUl being 
 followed by the man who wished to marry her. 
 
 As she went, she altogether disregarded the glories of the 
 day, the teeming life of the river, the very occasional 
 people she met ; she had only thought for a means of 
 deliverance from the shadow of a loveless old age. 
 
 Life was so uncertain, things so easily went wrong, she was 
 so at the mercy of forces over which she had no control 
 that she was eager to love : beyond being a means of 
 providing happiness without alloy, it was a certain stay in 
 time of trouble. 
 
 For aU this desire to love and to be loved, she could not 
 determine if she cared sufficiently for Titterton to marry him 
 on the chance of love following their union. 
 
 As she was troubled by indecision, she remembered 
 having been told that in all affairs of the heart there is one 
 who loves while the other is loved. 
 
 She knew Titterton loved her, but was convinced that, as 
 yet, she had no deeper feeling for him than a tender regard. 
 
 She hurried on when she heard her name called from 
 behind. 
 
 She did not turn, at which Titterton called again ; by the 
 sound of his voice she divined that he had stopped. 
 
 As she essayed to arrive at a definite conclusion, her 
 thoughts flew off at a tangent to Joey, when, for a very brief 
 while, she realised that Titterton wielded a considerable 
 influence over him, indeed, far more than she did herself ; 
 this reflection the more inclined her to the man who wished 
 to win her for his own. 
 
 If she could only make up her mind ! 
 
 The calling of her name once more brought her back to 
 the immediate present when she was possessed by a further 
 access of indecision ; her steps faltered ; her heart beat 
 fast. 
 
 She was minded to go on, but was arrested by the scent 
 
406 THE SINS OF THE CHIIJ)REN 
 
 of May, which not only weakened her resolution, but seemed 
 to hold her in amorous thraU. She looked about her, to see 
 that a tree overhanging the once streamlike backwater was 
 responsible for the insistent perfume. 
 
 Also, she perceived the nest in which she had seen the 
 little thrushes on the occasion of her recent pilgrimage to the 
 towpath. 
 
 To-day, believing they could fly, they, to their parents' 
 consternation, were bent on leaving the nest. 
 
 This event took her back to a similar occurrence she had 
 witnessed in the long ago, and not very far from where she 
 stood. 
 
 She was then a little girl, and the incident had given rise 
 to Joe's prediction that a day would come when, in common 
 with the majority of young people, she would be eager to 
 leave her father and her home. 
 
 She had hotly contended that, whatever it might be with 
 others, she coiild never part from her ever-dearest Joe. 
 
 But that was then. 
 
 Now, she was more or less reconciled to the inevitability 
 of sooner or later losing Joey, at which her mind was free 
 to think of her immediate future. 
 
 Her thoughts flew to the man who was waiting ; she would 
 have given many years of her life if, in a passion of abandon- 
 ment, she could forget her perplexities and sufferings in his 
 arms. 
 
 But since she was uncertain if she loved him, this was 
 impossible. 
 
 Her fear of losing him was such that she told herself that, 
 after all, she might be mistaken ; that she would bitterly 
 repent if she sent him away for good. 
 
 She was disposed to go to him, but was restrained by 
 conscience, which told her how such a surrender might be 
 owing to the influence he exercised over Joey. 
 
 If only she could make up her mind ! 
 
 Then her version of the text from St. John came into her 
 mind. 
 
THE SCENT OF THE MAY 407 
 
 " I must love while it is day : the night cometh when no 
 woman can love." 
 
 This stimulated her pitiful craving for happiness which 
 she fondly (perhaps, foolishly) believed was the birthright 
 of the human unit. 
 
 It was this desire, reinforced by the influences of the 
 spring day, and the lust of life begotten of the passing away 
 of Mrs. Baverstock, which made her believe that love for 
 Titterton had, at last, dawned ia her heart. 
 
 Whether or not this emotion were genuine, Jeannie 
 suddenly turned with a little cry. 
 
 She hoped she was not deceiving herself as she advanced 
 upon her lover with hands outstretched. 
 
 Prinied iy Morrison & Gob LmrrED, Edtxburgk 
 
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