“Ah,” she said lightly, “there are lots of things you never saw me do, Jack, which I am capable of, all the same.”  Whereupon Saidie burst out laughing as at some prodigious joke.

“Good for you, Bella!  All right, dear!  I’m not one to tell tales out of school.”

“Are you a married man, sir, may I ask?”

Doss put his thumbs under his arm-pits and looked scrutinisingly into Meynell’s face.  “I should say not.”

“No, I’m a bachelor, and likely to continue one.”

“Well,” remarked Mrs. Doss sentimentally, “I don’t know nothing jollier than courting time.  Such little ordinary things seem sweet like, then.”

“Hark at the old girl,” chuckled Doss.

“You can’t kidd me, Doss.  You know it, too.  I think of our own billing and cooing, sir—­his and mine.  I was not a draw in those days; the last turn in the bill at the “Middlesex” was about my mark, and Doss, he hadn’t risen, neither.  We used to walk ‘ome that lovin’ up Drury Lane, and Doss, he would say, ‘fish, Tilda,’ and I would say, ‘if you could fancy a bit, Sam.’  And in he would pop for two penny slices and chips.  And eat—­lor’, how we did eat.  When I look back on that fish, sometimes I could cry.  Money and fame ain’t everythink in the world, believe me, they ain’t.  You may be ’appy in your ’umbleness.”

All this was gall and wormwood to John Chetwynd, and he approached his wife again and whispered.

“It is getting late—­are these people never going?”

“Not until they have had supper, most certainly.”

“And do you expect my friend to join you?”

“You can please yourselves.  I don’t think either of you would be much acquisition in your present frame of mind.  Mrs. Doss, somebody interrupted you; you were talking about a kindred soul and an attic.  Money and position are not everything you were saying.  I agree with you.  Give me an easy life and no stilts.”

John Chetwynd could stand it no longer.

“Madam,” he said, addressing Mrs. Doss; “I must really apologise, but Mr. Meynell and I have important business to discuss, and—­”

Mrs. Doss might be vulgar, but she was not obtuse.  Seeing she and her husband were not wanted, she sprang to her feet.

“Sam—­right about face; we must be off ’ome.”

“Nonsense, you must have some supper before you go,” said Bella.

“Oh, I think we will be toddling, thanks.  Are you coming with us, Saidie?”

“No, I’m not,” returned that young woman, sturdily.  “Since this house is the joint property of Dr. John Chetwynd and his wife, I reckon I shall stop awhile.  Bella, you are not going to turn me out, are you?”

“Not I. I can’t imagine what Jack means by behaving so inhospitably.  I hope you will all stop.”

But Mr. Doss, exceedingly affronted at the slight offered him, had tucked his wife’s arm under his own and was already at the door.