"Mr. Enderby! er, er! you'll excuse my mentioning it, but when a lady of Mrs. Maddox's position takes the trouble to call upon Mrs. Enderby, with the kind view of tendering her some good advice, I really think she is entitled to be treated with civility and consideration."

Maurice's face hardened, and there was a dangerous glitter in his eye as he replied,

"Mrs. Maddox, sir, entered Mrs. Enderby's drawing-room apparently to malign her husband; she was ruder, as was also Mrs. Praun, than I had believed it possible that any lady could be. I have further to point out that my private affairs are no business of yours, and I will trouble you not to meddle with them for the

future."

"Sir!" exclaimed General Maddox, "do you mean to in

"I insinuate nothing," interposed Maurice quickly. "I have said what I meant to say, and am now going to lunch, and have the honour to wish you good morning."

As for General Maddox, he sank back in an arm-chair, gasping with indignation. His usual portly presence was in a state of collapse pitiable to witness; it was probably a quarter of a century since any one had presumed to tackle the pompous old general in this fashion.

"By Jupiter! I'll have him out," he muttered at last, ignoring for the moment that the duel was as obsolete in England as the tilt-yard, and that even in its most flourishing days the priest's cassock carried exemption. After a little he got up, and as he walked home said, "No! there is only one thing to do, hunt the fellow out of Tunnleton; and, by Jupiter! I'll do it.”

The glorious July days rolled sunnily by, and the country around Tunnleton is in all its glory. The woods and fields are full of wild flowers, and the hedges thick with dog-roses and wild honeysuckle, the meadows alive with sturdy lambs, and the corn, though standing strong and green upon the ground, yet here and there begins to show slight indications of changing to a golden hue.

The parade is deserted, and nothing but the severe exigencies of shopping bring the fair ladies of Tunnleton to the High Street. The hum of insects is in the air, the very birds give vent to low querulous twitterings as if entering their protest about the state of the thermometer. The cattle stand languidly switching their tails till the aggressive army of flies proves too much for their patience, when they stampede in wild ungainly gallops round their pastures. Tunnleton lies at the bottom of a basin, and consequently the little air there is barely reaches it. The shopkeepers stand sweltering in their shirt-sleeves at their doors; no one would think of buying and selling, save from dire necessity, in such weather. The dogs lie upon the door-steps with their lolling tongues and panting sides, mutely appealing in their canine breasts

against the irony of dedicating such days peculiarly to them. It is one of those glorious old English summers such as are all but dim memories.

Tunnleton society has betaken itself to the open air. It is cricketing, lawn-tennising, picnicking, munching fruit and consuming claret-cup. There were perpetual open-air gatherings of one sort or another, and Maurice Enderby could not but see that from a great many of these his wife and himself were excluded; there could be no doubt of it; people who had called upon them in the first instance, and who had appeared anxious to make their acquaintance, now neglected to ask them to such entertainments as they might be giving. It did not require much penetration to see that there was a hostile influence at work, and that he had made implacable enemies of the two generals he felt no doubt. Of course, the rector, his friends the Chyltons, and some others welcomed him as cordially as of yore; but amongst the people who had not exactly dropped his acquaintance, but had apparently struck him off their invitation list, Maurice was a little surprised to find the Molecombes. Mr. Molecombe was the senior partner in Molecombe and Chylton's bank, and had, on Frank Chylton's representation, been one of the first people to call and offer civility to the Enderbys; however, of the cause of their defection he was destined to be speedily enlightened.

He was passing through the deserted High Street on one of those errands that formed part of his daily work, when he encountered one of the Miss Torkeslys; as before said, no one ever went out in Tunnleton without meeting a Torkesly.

"Good morning, Mr. Enderby," she exclaimed, with all the volubility characteristic of her race. "Have you heard the news?" "No," replied Maurice, as he shook hands; "I was not aware that there was anything stirring-not even a breeze," he added, smiling.

"Oh yes, I assure you, Mr. Enderby, a marriage-a real marriage. And I suppose it will take place in the autumn. She is such a nice girl, and I am so fond of her. I am going up now to congratulate her. I am sure they must be pleased! A young good-looking husband with lots of money, what more could any one want? I don't believe she cares much about him, you know. And I should think she is a good deal older than he is, but it will do all very well, no doubt, and I am sure I am delighted. And, you know, it really was getting time dear Edith was settled."

"Excuse me, Miss Torkesly, but I really have no idea of whom you are speaking."

"No, I forgot you don't go about quite so much as you-I mean —that is, you gentlemen don't interest yourselves so much in marriages and engagements as we do."

"But won't you enlighten my ignorance?" replied Maurice. "Of course, of course you will be delighted to hear it, such

friends as they are of yours, and you so intimate with the Chyltons, and all!"

Maurice said nothing. He felt that this feminine windbag must have its way.

"Yes," continued the young lady, complacently; "Edith Molecombe has accepted Mr. Madingley, and, of course, the wedding will be a very grand affair when it does come off; and I do hope they will ask us to the breakfast. Good morning. I really have no time to stand gossiping," and with a gracious smile and bend of her head Miss Torkesly resumed her weary pilgrimage; for the Molecombes lived about a mile outside the town, and under that fierce midday sun the walk thither was really no small sacrifice at the altar of friendship.

"Yes," muttered Maurice, as he strolled on, "that would easily account for the Molecombes dropping me. I know Mr. Madingley has never forgiven me for putting him down, and, without knowing anything positive about it, I should guess he had the capacity of being what Dr. Johnson admired, a good hater,'" and then Maurice thought later in the afternoon he would stroll up to the Chyltons and have a talk with them. So when the sun waxed low in the heavens, dropping like a ball of fire into his bed in the west, Maurice and his wife started for the Chyltons. They lived in a pretty villa standing in the middle of a large garden. To say grounds would be a misnomer, it was really nothing more than an extensive garden-well shrubbed, well treed, and tastefully laid out. Sitting under a horse-chestnut on the verge of the flowergemmed lawn was Mrs. Chylton, a tea-equipage at her side, and her two children playing at her feet.

"I am so glad to see you, Bessie," she cried, as she rose to welcome the new-comer, "and you too, Mr. Enderby. How good of you to come up and lighten my solitude! I was suffering from a bad headache in the early part of the afternoon, and so gave up all thoughts of the Molecombes' garden-party. By the way, how is it that you are not there?"

"For the best of all possible reasons-we were not asked," rejoined Bessie.

Mrs. Chylton said nothing more, but she was a firm friend of the Enderbys, and resolved to take the earliest opportunity of favouring the Molecombe family with her opinion on the subject.

"I suppose you were very much astonished at the announcement of Edith's engagement?" said she.

"Well, yes; but, as I only know Mr. Madingley by sight, I was not likely to have any suspicion of what was coming."

"No," interposed Maurice," and then, as you know, Mrs. Chylton, in consequence of my quarrel with Generals Maddox and Praun, a good many houses in the place are now closed to me."

"Yes, they no doubt have considerable influence in Tunnleton, and a certain number of people would be sure to take their side,

but after the shameful conduct of their wives I don't see, Mr. Enderby, that you could have done anything else."

"No, a man cannot allow his wife to be insulted. General Maddox further had the presumption to attempt to lecture me upon keeping my wife in order.”

"What!" cried Laura Chylton.

"He had. That really was the gist of a conversation he thought proper to commence with me when we found ourselves left together the next day in the morning-room of the club, but I don't think he is likely to try his hand at that again," and then Maurice gave Mrs. Chylton an account of that interview.

Mrs. Chylton burst out laughing when Maurice described with a good deal of humour the conclusion of his passage of arms with the general.

"Oh, Mr. Enderby!" she cried; "did you really say that to him? He will never forgive you. I don't suppose his dignity has received such a shock for years; and General Maddox without his dignity is nothing. Frank must hear this-it will be nearly the death of him; he'll be home from the Molecombes about seven. If you can put up with cold lamb and salad for dinner, be good people and stop. It's not sermon night, Mr. Enderby, so you have no excuse."

"I shall be very glad indeed," said Maurice.

"Now that's neighbourly," replied Laura. "Smoke if you want to; you'll find the papers and magazines in Frank's room. Bessie and I are going to have a good long lazy gossip."

CHAPTER XIX.

"WHAT A BORE I'VE BEEN."

FRANK CHYLTON came home to dinner, and, as his wife prophesied, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks at Maurice's account of his skirmish with General Maddox.

"I don't blame you," he said; "old Maddox richly deserved it, but it isn't calculated to quench the ill-will with which he regards you. No, depend upon it, he and his immediate friends will make the very most of this trumped-up story, and they can, to some extent, make the place unpleasant to you, no doubt."

"We must endeavour to bear his enmity with what resignation we can. If his friendship is to be burdened with a right to administer advice on the part of Mrs. Maddox, I infinitely prefer to be without it-eh, Bessie?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Enderby, laughing merrily. "I am quite content to figure as the bad child who wouldn't take its powder in spite of all assurances that it was for its good. I suppose they were very full of Edith's engagement this afternoon?'

"Yes, it was a perfect feu de joie of congratulations. She looked happy and conscious, and Madingley more at his ease and less of a fool than a man usually does under the circumstances."

"Is Mr. Molecombe very pleased, Frank?" inquired his wife. "Very, I should say- Very satisfactory, good county family, heir to a nice property-yes, thank you, it will do, Chylton,' he replied, when I congratulated him. You know his short jerky manner of talking."

"Well, I suppose it is a good thing for her," rejoined Laura, "though personally I can't say I ever quite fancied Mr. Madingley -I can't tell you why, but it is so."

"I think I can, Mrs. Chylton, but pray put no particular stress upon my opinion, as I'll admit to being somewhat prejudiced against him. What you are conscious of is this-that Mr. Madingley is not quite a gentleman."

"You are right, Maurice," replied her husband. "He opened a very liberal account with us when he first came, and, as far as money is concerned, there is no reason to suppose but what he has plenty; but you're right, it crops out whenever you have much to do with him. Once get through the French polish, and you'll find an arrogant cad at the bottom of it.”

"Come, Bessie," cried Laura Chylton, laughing; "when the gentlemen get so very pronounced in their opinions, it is best to leave them to themselves ere worse comes of it."

"Now, Maurice," said Frank, as soon as the ladies had left the room," I've something on my mind concerning you. I hate mysteries and therefore I'm going to out with it at once. I don't want in the least to pry into your private affairs, but what induced you in the face of this scandal to pay £200 into our bank last week? Of course, Molecombe knows it, and forgive me if it sounds like an impertinence, it is a big sum for a man in your position to lodge to his account, and I need hardly say gives additional handle to the story of your having won money by horse-racing."

"Stupid of me!" exclaimed Maurice. "I wanted cash to draw against, to satisfy my tradespeople; I came unexpectedly into some money, and, never thinking of the construction you have put upon it, paid it into your bank."

Frank Chylton said nothing, but he looked uneasily at his companion. Maurice caught the glance, hesitated for a minute or two, and then said:

"You've been a staunch friend, Frank, and are entitled to know the whole story, and, providing you will give me your promise not to open your lips without my permission, I will tell it you."

Chylton readily gave the required promise, and then, without further preamble, Maurice related the story of Uncle John's eccentric wedding present, and what had come of it so far. Frank listened attentively.

"I don't know anything about such things," he said, when