“Agreed.  But she knows that already.”

“Then, David is an only child.  Don’t you think you could say that men who have never had a sister are peculiarly gentle and considerate to women?”

“Oh, Grizel!  But I think I can say that.”

“And—­and that having been so long accustomed to doing everything for themselves, they don’t need managing wives as men brought up among women need them.”

“Yes.  But how cunning you are, Grizel!  Who would have believed it?”

“And then——­” She hesitated.

“Go on.  I see by your manner that this is to be a big one.”

“It would be such a help,” she said eagerly, “if you could be just a little less attentive to her.  I know you do ever so much of the housework because she is not fond of it; and if she has a headache you sit with her all day; and you beg her to play and sing to you, though you really dislike music.  Oh, there are scores of things you do for her, and if you were to do them a little less willingly, in such a way as to show her that they interrupt your work and are a slight trial to you, I—­I am sure that would help!”

“She would see through me, Grizel.  Elspeth is sharper than you think her.”

“Not if you did it very skilfully.”

“Then she would believe I had grown cold to her, and it would break her heart.”

“One of your failings,” replied Grizel, giving him her hand for a moment as recompense for what she was about to say, “is that you think women’s hearts break so easily.  If, at the slightest sign that she notices any change in you, you think her heart is breaking, and seize her in your arms, crying, ’Elspeth, dear little Elspeth!’—­and that is what your first impulse would be——­”

“How well you know me, Grizel!” groaned Sentimental Tommy.

“If that would be the result,” she went on, “better not do it at all.  But if you were to restrain yourself, then she could not but reflect that many of the things you did for her with a sigh David did for pleasure, and she would compare him and you—­”

“To my disadvantage?” Tommy exclaimed, with sad incredulity.  “Do you really think she could, Grizel?”

“Give her the chance,” Grizel continued, “and if you find it hard, you must remember that what you are doing is for her good.”

“And for ours,” Tommy cried fervently.

Every promise he made her at this time he fulfilled, and more; he was hopeless, but all a man could do to make Elspeth love David he did.

The doctor was quite unaware of it.  “Fortunately, her brother had a headache yesterday and was lying down,” he told Grizel, with calm brutality, “so I saw her alone for a few minutes.”

“The fibs I have to invent,” said Tommy, to the same confidante, “to get myself out of their way!”

“Luckily he does not care for music,” David said, “so when she is at the piano he sometimes remains in the kitchen talking to Aaron.”