upon what was left to him.  He noticed further that as Vincent talked, his eyes fixed on his interlocutor, his vigorous hands caressed with a slow circular motion the rounded arms of his chair.  “What a three-ringed circus that fellow is,” he thought.  “I bet that the lady thinks he hasn’t another idea in his head but introducing an old friend, and all the time he’s taking her in, every inch of her, and three to one, what he’ll talk about most afterwards is the smooth hard feeling of those polished arm-chairs.”  Vincent was saying, “. . . and so, we heard in a round-about way too long to bother you with, about the small old house next door being for sale, and how very quiet and peaceful a spot this is, and the Company bought it for Mr. Welles for a permanent home, now he has retired.”

“Pretty fine of them!” murmured the older man dutifully, to the lady.

Vincent went on, “Oh, it’s only the smallest way for them to show their sense of his life-time devotion to their interests.  There’s no estimating what we all owe him, for his steadiness and loyalty and good judgment, especially during that hard period, near the beginning. You know, when all electrical businesses were so entirely on trial still.  Nobody knew whether they were going to succeed or not.  My father was one of the Directors from the first and I’ve been brought up in the tradition of how much the small beginning Company is indebted to Mr. Welles, during the years when they went down so near the edge of ruin that they could see the receiver looking in through the open door.”

Welles moved protestingly.  He never had liked the business and he didn’t like reminders that he owed his present comfort to it.  Besides this was reading his own epitaph.  He thought he must be looking very foolish to Mrs. Crittenden.  Vincent continued, “But of course that’s of no great importance up here.  What’s more to the purpose is that Mr. Welles is a great lover of country life and growing things, and he’s been forced to keep his nose on a city grindstone all his life until just now.  I think I can guarantee that you’ll find him a very appreciative neighbor, especially if you have plenty of gladioli in your garden.”

This last was one of what Welles called “Vincent’s sidewipes,” which he could inlay so deftly that they seemed an integral part of the conversation.  He wondered what Mrs. Crittenden would say, if Vincent ever got through his gabble and gave her a chance.  She was turning to him now, smiling, and beginning to speak.  What a nice voice she had!  How nice that she should have such a voice!

“I’m more than glad to have you both come in to see me, and I’m delighted that Mr. Welles is going to settle here.  But Mr. . . .” she hesitated an instant, recalled the name, and went on, “Mr. Marsh doesn’t need to explain you any more.  It’s evident that you don’t know Ashley, or you’d realize that I’ve already heard a great deal more about you than Mr.