By and by, as the spring drew on and the time of the marriage was coming nearer, the important business of taking and furnishing a house for Sheila’s reception occupied the attention of the young man from morning till night.  He had been somewhat disappointed at the cold fashion in which his aunt looked upon his choice, admitting everything he had to say in praise of Sheila, but never expressing any approval of his conduct or hope about the future; but now she showed herself most amiably and generously disposed.  She supplied the young man with abundant funds wherewith to furnish the house according to his own fancy.  It was a small place, fronting a somewhat commonplace square in Notting Hill, but it was to be a miracle of artistic adornment inside.  He tortured himself for days over rival shades and hues; he drew designs for the chairs; he himself painted a good deal of paneling;, and, in short, gave up his whole time to making Sheila’s future home beautiful.  His aunt regarded these preparations with little interest, but she certainly gave her nephew ample means to indulge the eccentricities of his fancy.

“Isn’t she a dear old lady?” said Lavender one night to Ingram.  “Look here!  A cheque, received this morning, for two hundred pounds, for plate and glass.”

Ingram looked at the bit of pale green paper:  “I wish you had earned the money yourself, or done without the plate until you could buy it with your own money.”

“Oh, confound it, Ingram! you carry your puritanical theories too far.  Doubtless I shall earn my own living by and by.  Give me time.”

“It is now nearly a year since you thought of marrying Sheila Mackenzie, and you have not done a stroke of work yet.”

“I beg your pardon.  I have worked a good deal of late, as you will see when you come up to my rooms.”

“Have you sold a single picture since last summer?”

“I cannot make people buy my pictures if they don’t choose to do so.”

“Have you made any effort to get them sold, or to come to any arrangement with any of the dealers?”

“I have been too busy of late—­looking after this house, you know,” said Lavender with an air of apology.

“You were not too busy to paint a fan for Mrs. Lorraine, that people say must have occupied you for months.”

Lavender laughed:  “Do you know, Ingram, I think you are jealous of Mrs. Lorraine, on account of Sheila?  Come, you shall go and see her.”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you afraid of your Puritan principles giving way?”

“I am afraid that you are a very foolish boy,” said the other with a good-humored shrug of resignation, “but I hope to see you mend when you marry.”

“Ah, then you will see a difference!” said Lavender seriously; and so the dispute ended.