Mr. Prohack. Arnold Bennett

forget which?"

      "No, no. You're all mixed up. That wasn't Angmering."

      "Well, you have such funny friends, darling. Tell me, then."

      "Angmering never ran away with anybody except himself. He went to America and before he left I lent him a hundred pounds."

      "Arthur, I'll swear you never told me that at the time. In fact you always said positively you wouldn't lend money to anybody. You promised me. I hope he's paid you back."

      "He hasn't. And I've just heard he's dead."

      "I felt that was coming. Yes. I knew from the moment you began to talk that it was something of that kind. And just when we could do with that hundred pounds—heaven knows! Oh, Arthur!"

      "He's dead," said Mr. Prohack clinchingly, "but he's left me ten thousand a year. Ha, ha!—Ha, ha!" He put his hand on her soft shoulder and gave a triumphant wink.

III

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      "Dollars, naturally," said Mrs. Prohack, after listening to various romantic details.

      "No, pounds."

      "And do you believe it? Are you sure this man Bishop isn't up to some game? You know anybody can get the better of you, sweetest."

      "Yes," said Mr. Prohack. "I know I'm the greatest and sweetest imbecile that the Almighty ever created. But I believe it."

      "But why should he leave you all this money? It doesn't stand to reason."

      "It doesn't. But you see the poor fellow had to leave it to some one. And he'd no time to think. I expect he just did the first thing that came into his head and was glad to get it over. I daresay he rather enjoyed doing it, even if he was in great pain, which I don't think he was."

      "And who do you say the woman is that's got as much as you have?"

      "I don't say because I don't know."

      "I guarantee she hadn't lent him a hundred pounds," said Mrs. Prohack with finality. "And you can talk as long as you like about real property in Cincinnati—what is real property? Isn't all property real?—I shall begin to believe in the fortune the day you give me a pearl necklace worth a thousand pounds. And not before."

      "Lady," replied Mr. Prohack, "then I will never give you a pearl necklace."

      Mrs. Prohack laughed.

      "I know that," she said.

      After a long meditative pause which her husband did not interrupt, she murmured: "So I suppose we shall be what you call rich?"

      "Some people will undoubtedly call us rich. Others won't."

      "You know we shan't be any happier," she warned him.

      "No," Mr. Prohack agreed. "It's a great trial, besides being a great bore. But we must stick it."

      "I shan't be any different. So you mustn't expect it."

      "I never have expected it."

      "I wonder what the children will say. Now, Arthur, don't go and tell them at dinner while the maid's there. I think I'll fetch them up now."

      "You'll do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Prohack sharply.

      "Why not?"

      "Because I can't stand the strain of telling them to-night. Ha-ha!" He laughed. "I intend to think things over and tell them to-morrow. I've had quite enough strain for one day."

      "Strain, darling?"

      "Strain. These extremes of heat and cold would try a stronger man than me."

      "Extremes of heat and cold, darling?"

      "Well, just think how cold it was this morning and how warm it is to-night."

      "You quaint boy!" she murmured, admiring him. "I quite understand. Quite. How sensitive you are! But then you always were. Now listen here. Shall I tell the children?" She gave him a long kiss.

      "No," said he, making prods at her cheek with his finger, and smiling vaguely. "No. You'll do nothing of the kind. But there's something you can do for me."

      "Yes?"

      "Will you do it?"

      "Yes."

      "Whatever it is?"

      "If you aren't going to play a trick on me."

      "No. It's no trick.

      "Very well, then."

      "First, you must have one of your best headaches. Second, you must go to bed at once. Third, you must sprinkle some eau-de-cologne on the bed, to deceive the lower orders. Fourth, you must be content with some soup for your dinner, and I'll smuggle you up some dessert in my pocket if you're hungry. Fifth, you must send word to those children of yours that you don't wish to be disturbed."

      "But you want to treat me like a baby."

      "And supposing I do! For once, can't you be a baby to oblige me?"

      "But it's too ridiculous! Why do you want me to go to bed?"

      "You know why. Still, I'll tell you. You always like to be told what you know—for instance, that I'm in love with you. I can't tell those kids to-night, and I'm not going to. The rumpus, the conflict of ideas, the atmospheric disturbance when they do get to know will be terrific, and I simply won't have it to-night. I must have a quiet evening to think in or else I shan't sleep. On the other hand, do you suppose I could sit through dinner opposite you, and you knowing all about it and me knowing all about it, and both of us pretending that there was nothing unusual in the air? It's impossible. Either you'd give the show away, or I should. Or I should burst out laughing. No! I can manage the situation alone, but I can't manage it if you're there. Hence, lady, you will keep your kind promise and hop into bed."

      Without another word, but smiling in a most enigmatic manner, Mrs. Prohack passed into the bedroom. The tyrant lit a cigarette, and stretched himself all over the sofa. He thought:

      "She's a great woman. She understands. Or at any rate she acts as if she did. Now how many women in similar circumstances would have—" Etc. Etc.

      He listened to her movements. He had not told her everything, for example, the profiteering origin of the fortune, and he wondered whether he had behaved quite nicely in not doing so.

      "Arthur," she called from the bedroom.

      "Hullo?"

      "I do think this is really too silly."

      "You're not paid to think, my girl."

      A pause.

      "Arthur," she called from the bedroom.

      "Hullo?"

      "You're sure you won't blurt it out to them when I'm not there?"

      He only replied: "I'm sorry you've got such a frightful headache, Marian. You wouldn't have these headaches if you took my advice."

      A pause.

      "I'm in bed."

      "All right. Stay there."

      When he had finished his cigarette, he went into the bedroom. Yes, she was veritably in bed.

      "You are a pig, Arthur. I wonder how many wives—"

      He put his hand over her mouth.

      "Stop," he said. "I'm not like you. I don't need to be told what I know already."

      "But really—!" She dropped her head on one side and began to laugh, and continued to laugh, rather hysterically, until she could not laugh any more. "Oh, dear! We are the queerest