Mrs. Otway admitted him; Alexander, she said, was away on business, but would soon return.  On entering the large room, Piers was startled at the change in its appearance.  The well-carpeted floor, the numerous chairs of inviting depth and softness, the centre-table, the handsome bureau, the numerous pictures, and a multitude of knickknacks not to be taken in at one glance, made it plain that most of the money he had lent his brother had been expended at once in this direction.  Bridget stood watching his face, and at the first glimmer of a smile broke into jubilation.  What did he think?  How did he like it?  Wasn’t it a room to be proud of?  She knew it would do his kind heart good to see such splendours!  Let him sit down—­after selecting his chair—­and take it all in whilst she got some tea.  No wonder it took away his breath!  She herself had hardly yet done gazing in mute ecstasy.

“It’s been such a feast for my eyes, Mr. Piers, that I’ve scarcely wanted to put a bit in my mouth since the room was finished!”

When Alexander arrived, he greeted his brother as though with rapturous congratulation; one would have thought some great good fortune had befallen the younger man.

“Biddy!” he shouted, “I’ve a grand idea!  We’ll celebrate the occasion with a dinner out; we’ll go to a restaurant.  Hanged if you shall have the trouble of cooking on such a day as this!  Get ready; make yourself beautiful—­though you’re always that.  We’ll dine early, as Piers has to leave us at nine o’clock.”

Outcries and gesticulations confirmed the happy thought.  Tea over, Piers was dismissed to the bedroom (very bare and uncomfortable, this) to don his evening suit, and by six o’clock the trio set forth.  They drove in a cab to festive regions, and, as one to the manner born, Alexander made speedy arrangements for their banquet.  An odd-looking party; the young man’s ceremonious garb and not ungraceful figure contrasting with his brother’s aspect of Bohemian carelessness and jollity, whilst Bridget, adorned in striking colours, would have passed for anything you like but a legitimate and devoted spouse.  Once again did Piers stifle his conscience in face of the exhilarating bottle; indeed, he drank deliberately to drown his troubles, and before the second course had already to some extent succeeded.

Alexander talked of his journalistic prospects.  Whether there was any special reason for hopefulness, Piers could not discover; it seemed probable that here also the windfall of fifty pounds had changed the aspect of the world.  To hear him, one might have supposed that the struggling casual contributor had suddenly been offered some brilliant appointment on a great journal; but he discoursed with magnificent vagueness, and could not be brought to answer direct questions.  His attention to the wine was unremittent; he kept his brother’s glass full, nor was Bridget allowed to shirk her convivial duty.  At dessert