Metamorphosis!  Richard Mutimer speculates on asthetic problems.

‘You, gentlemen, I dare say will be wicked enough to smoke,’ remarked Mrs. Waltham, as she rose from the table.

‘I tell you what we shall be wicked enough to do, mother,’ exclaimed Alfred.  ’We shall have two cups of coffee brought out into the garden, and spare your furniture!’

’Very well, my son.  Your two cups evidently mean that Adela and I are not invited to the garden.’

’Nothing of the kind.  But I know you always go to sleep, and Adela doesn’t like tobacco smoke.’

’I go to sleep, Alfred!  You know very well that I have a very different occupation for my Sunday afternoons.’

‘I really don’t care anything about smoking,’ observed Mutimer, with a glance at Adela.

’Oh, you certainly shall not deprive yourself on my account, Mr. Mutimer,’ said the girl, good-naturedly.  ’I hope soon to come out into the garden, and I am not at all sure that my objection to tobacco is serious.’

Ah, if Mrs. Mewling could have heard that speech!  Mrs. Mewling’s age was something less than fifty; probably she had had time to forget how a young girl such as Adela speaks in pure frankness and never looks back to muse over a double meaning.

It was nearly three o’clock.  Adela compared her watch with the sitting-room clock, and, the gentlemen having retired, moved about the room with a look of uneasiness.  Her mother stood at the window, seemingly regarding the sky, in reality occupying her thoughts with things much nearer.  She turned and found Adela looking at her.

‘I want just to run over and speak to Letty,’ Adela said.  ’I shall very soon be back.’

‘Very well, dear,’ replied her mother, scanning her face absently.  ‘But don’t let them keep you.’

Adela quickly fetched her hat and left the house.  It was her habit to walk at a good pace, always with the same airy movement, as though her feet only in appearance pressed the ground.  On the way she again consulted her watch, and it caused her to flit still faster.  Arrived at the abode of the Tews, she fortunately found Letty in the garden, sitting with two younger sisters, one a child of five years.  Miss Tew was reading aloud to them, her book being ‘Pilgrim’s Progress.’  At the sight of Adela the youngest of the three slipped down from her seat and ran to meet her with laughter and shaking of curls.

‘Carry me round! carry me round!’ cried the little one.

For it was Adela’s habit to snatch up the flaxen little maiden, seat her upon her shoulder, and trot merrily round a circular path in the garden.  But the sister next in age, whose thirteenth year had developed deep convictions, interposed sharply—­

‘Eva, don’t be naughty!  Isn’t it Sunday?’

The little one, saved on the very brink of iniquity, turned away in confusion and stood with a finger in her mouth.