Burton smiled.

“Well, really,” he said, “I don’t see anything to worry about in what you have told me.”

“Don’t you!” Ellen replied.  “Well, just you listen to me and answer my question.  I left Alf alone with you while I changed my—­while I looked after the washing the day you came, and what I want to know is, did you give him one of those things that you talked to me about?”

“I certainly did not,” Burton answered.

Then a light broke in upon him.  Ellen saw the change in his face.

“Well, what is it?” she asked sharply.  “I can see you know all about it.”

“There were the two beans you threw out of the window,” he said.  “He must have picked up one.”

“Beans, indeed!” Ellen replied, scornfully.  “Do you mean to tell me that a bean would work all this mischief in the child?”

“I happen to know that it would.”

“Comes of picking up things in the street!” Ellen exclaimed.  “I’ll give it him when I get back, I will!”

“You must forgive me,” Burton said, “but I really don’t see what you have to complain about.  From what you tell me, I should consider the boy very much improved.”

“Improved!” Ellen repeated.  “An unnatural little impudent scallywag of a child!  You don’t think I want a schoolmaster in knickerbockers about the place all the time?  Found fault with my clothes yesterday, hid some of the ornaments in the parlor, and I caught him doing a sketch of a woman the other day with not a shred of clothes on.  Said it was a copy of some statue in the library.  It may be your idea of how a boy nine years old should go on, but it isn’t mine, and that’s straight.”

Burton sighed.

“My dear Ellen,” he said, “we do not look at this matter from the same point of view, but fortunately as you will say, unfortunately from my point of view, the change in Alfred is not likely to prove lasting.  You will find in another few weeks that he will be himself again.”

“Don’t believe it,” Ellen declared.  “He’s as set in his ways now as a little old man.”

Burton shook his head.

“It won’t last, I know it.”

“Lasts with you all right!” she snapped.

Burton opened his little silver box.

“It lasts with me only as long as these little beans last,” he replied.  “You see, I have only two left.  When they are gone, I shall be back again.”

“If you think,” Ellen exclaimed, “that you’re going to march into Clematis Villa just when you feel like it, and behave as though nothing has happened, all I can say, my man, is that you’re going to be disappointed!  You’ve kept away so long you can keep away for good.  We can do without you, me and Alf.”

Burton still held the box in his hand.

“I suppose,” he ventured slowly, “I couldn’t persuade you to take one?”

Ellen rose to her feet.  She threw the scarf around her neck, buttoned her gloves, and shook out her skirt.  She picked up the satchel which she had been carrying and prepared to depart.