ii- . 
 
 /<5- 
 
 L
 
 " 'THE VOICE THAT SPEAKS TO ME HERE
 
 Bab.s the 
 Impossible 
 
 By SARAH GRAND 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE HEAVENLY 
 TWINS" ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 ARTHUR I. KELLER 
 
 MDCCCC1 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS 
 YORK AND LONDON
 
 Copyright, I9 oo, by SARAH GRAND. 
 *SU right* resent*.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ; ' THE VOICE THAT SPEAKS TO ME HERE '" . . . . Frontispiece 
 
 IN HER HURRY SHE TIPPED UP THE TABLE" . . . Facing p. 4 
 
 ''YOU LOOK ALMIGHTY SOLEMN 1 " " 54 
 
 ''YOU ARE TOO KIND, I'M SURE,' SAID MISS SPICE" . " 78 
 
 ''YOU ARE QUITE A PALMIST*" " I2O 
 
 ' 'HE IMPRINTED A KISS ON MY LIPS ' " " 130 
 
 ' 'CONFOUND THOSE CATS!' HE SAID" " i?8 
 
 'A CURIOUS CHANGE PASSED OVER MR. JELLYBOND 
 
 TINNEY" " 220 
 
 ' ' I SEED MISS LORRAINE A-COMIN* OOP T* DRIVE ' " . 222 
 
 ' ' YOU GIVE ME NOTHING BUT NATURE, AND I'M 
 
 HUMAN'" " 234 
 
 ''THAT BOY'S DEATH LIES AT YOUR DOOR'" ... " 272 
 
 'SHE SAT STARING AT HIM, HORRIBLY FASCINATED". " 286 
 
 ' 'I MUST GET OUT INTO THE AIR; I'M SUFFOCATING*" " 306 
 
 'BARBARA WAS SINGING TO BABS" " 338 
 
 1 ' YOU ARE GOING WITHOUT EVEN HAVING PROPOSED 
 
 TO ME'" " 378 
 
 ' ' YE UNDERSTAND, I TRUST, WHOSE WRONGS I'VE 
 
 REVENGED'" " 396 
 
 ' ' YOU MIGHT AT LEAST HAVE WAITED UNTIL I WAS 
 
 MARRIED'" " 414 
 
 ' SHE CAME INTO VIOLENT COLLISION WITH SQUIRE 
 
 NORMANTON " " 432 
 
 ' ' YOU ARE GOING TO MARRY AUNT LORRAINE !' " . . " 452 
 iii
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Do you think that only those who have reached 
 maturity are interesting ? You forget that the bud 
 may be sweeter, and often in form is more beautiful, 
 than the full-blown flower ; and surely dimly fore- 
 shadowed possibilities, by causing pleasurable con- 
 jectures, delight the mind and exercise it more 
 wholesomely than those dry facts which have but 
 to be acquired, and leave nothing to be anticipated, 
 hoped for, or feared, because they leave nothing 
 doubtful. Pause, then, a moment here and con- 
 template these children.
 
 PROEM 
 
 THERE, on the brow of the hill, pausing involuntarily, 
 as though taken unawares, and with a sigh of satis- 
 faction in joy of the prospect, the wayfarer lingered 
 awhile. Below, and round about, there curved an un- 
 dulating valley, a happy, fertile space of wood and water, 
 meadow and arable lands, bounded by gentle eminences, 
 and on the highest, dominating all, an old gray tower. 
 The wild woods climbed to the foot of the tower and 
 there stood sentinel, dark and threatening, as though 
 they guarded a treasure. Lower down the hill was the 
 mansion to which the tower belonged ; but because of 
 the giant trees its presence was scarcely to be suspected. 
 It was the tower that commanded attention. On the 
 other side of the valley the smoke betrayed a village, 
 which was also not to be seen because of the sheltering 
 trees. Concealment was the characteristic of the whole 
 neighborhood. It was as if the inhabitants had com- 
 bined to hide their dwellings. At the first glance it 
 seemed as if the valley were uninhabited ; but a search- 
 ing eye discovered the gables of some few gentlemen's 
 houses nestling among the woods ; not many, though, 
 for the estates of the land-owners thereabouts were all 
 extensive. Kingconstance, of Dane Court ; Normanton, 
 of Normanton Hall, the Wyldes, of Wyldeholme ; and 
 
 vii
 
 PROEM 
 
 Cadenhouse owned all the property in sight, and much 
 besides; and the population of the neighborhood con- 
 sisted, for the most part, of the tenants and laborers on 
 their various estates. On a still day, in a district which 
 seemed so sparsely populated, the many and various 
 sounds of life which were heard ascending from unseen 
 sources produced a strange effect. The barking of dogs, 
 the lowing of cattle and cackle of poultry, hammerings 
 and shoutings and snatches of song, uprose continu- 
 ally, but muffled, as though they were echoes of olden 
 times, full fraught with mysterious significance. And 
 above all was the sound of bells. 
 
 From the square church tower of Danehurst, and from 
 an invisible spire farther away and another nearer at 
 hand, across the quiet fields they floated up to the brow 
 of the hill the notes intermittent, recurrent, persistent; 
 notes of joy and sadness, chime and toll, marriage and 
 burial ; the ordinary inevitable warning of the hour 
 from quarter to quarter, which means so much or so 
 little, according to the mood it strikes ; and the Sabbath 
 jangle, in which was invitation to rest, to pray, to aspire, 
 to be at peace ; all tinged with melancholy, and all 
 curiously remote. Indeed, so remote in its aspect was 
 the whole beautiful region that it was hard to realize that 
 there entered into it any experience not of romance or 
 fairy, that under the picturesque chimney-stacks of 
 those great houses, behind the gables of those pointed 
 roofs, sheltered by opinion, cradled in luxury for ages, 
 with the inherited ease and refinement of a privileged 
 class to aid them in their social intercourse, far from 
 the blatantly wicked world it was hard to realize that 
 there humanity seethed the same as in sordid surround- 
 ings in its passions, its ambitions, its greatness, and its 
 
 viii
 
 PROEM 
 
 littleness, that there, as elsewhere, the delights of love 
 were embowered and the bitterness of hate. It was 
 an impression of perfect serenity that the mind received 
 from the scene. In the contemplation of that happy 
 valley, with its running streams like ribbons of silver, 
 shining and sparkling, its quiet fields and stately woods, 
 all nestling in the sheltering embrace of the gentle, pro- 
 tecting hills, the desire for love itself grew faint as break- 
 ing wavelets in a summer calm, and thoughts of evil in 
 association with the place jarred like a discord. Buddha 
 himself might have found a Bo tree there and entered 
 into ecstasy undisturbed. 
 
 So it seemed, for the country all round was curiously 
 out of the world for this age of ours. It was seventeen 
 miles from a railway station, and the fault, if fault it 
 were, had been the fault of the Cadenhouse of that day, 
 who, when the question of railways arose, had had no 
 mind to have his lovely lands defaced, and all the heaven- 
 ly tranquillity of the vale disturbed by a shrieking mon- 
 ster of iron and unrest, bringing in its wake the vulgar 
 herd, with defilement of smoke, and blight of sulphur 
 and scalding steam. He objected, and the inhabitants 
 had upheld him in his objection. They had prayed 
 that the trains might pass them by on the other side of 
 the county, and their prayer had been granted much 
 to their subsequent chagrin when they found themselves 
 left high and dry in their village of Danehurst, on the 
 confines of what men call progress ; near enough to be 
 moved by the wind of it, and to appreciate their loss, but 
 too far off to have the emotions infused into them which 
 should have stirred them from the stagnation of genera- 
 tions and roused them to energy and enterprise. So 
 nobody was satisfied nobody, that is to say, but Caden-
 
 PROEM 
 
 house, son of the objector the Cadenhouse of to-day, 
 our Cadenhouse. 
 
 He had in his early youth travelled much and seen 
 much of mankind, and then, because he wanted to com- 
 prehend, he came home. People go to the cities to see 
 life ; but when they want to know life they return to the 
 quiet fields. Human nature is the same everywhere, 
 but it is in single specimens, and not in the restless mass, 
 stripped of all individuality and moulded by friction into 
 conventional forms, that the student still finds traits 
 which are worth his research. 
 
 The old gray tower belonged to Lord Cadenhouse, and 
 there he spent much of his time. By the many, he him- 
 self and his tower were freely discussed for a certain 
 mystery that attached to them. What he did there 
 exactly people could not guess whether he studied 
 astronomy or astrology, whether he sought to commune 
 with the highest by means of fasting and prayer, or with 
 the lowest by means of charms and incantation, whether 
 his knowledge were ordinary or occult, had not been ex- 
 plained to them ; but they knew he did something un- 
 usual, if not uncanny, such as sitting up alone at night, 
 and therefore they held him in the same kind of con- 
 sideration in which they held other phenomena when 
 they suspected potential qualities that might at any mo- 
 ment result in surprises. Popular interest in him might 
 lapse, but it never failed. He formed the stand-by of 
 conversation at all gatherings. The other land-owners 
 were strangely reserved about him. They spoke freely 
 of Billy Normanton and his little weakness for whiskey 
 in the evenings, of young Wylde, who had the reputation 
 of being much the same by nature as by name, and of 
 Mrs. Kingconstance, the widow, and how she was handi-
 
 PROEM 
 
 capped, so far as marrying again might go, by having 
 to nurse the property for that delicate boy Montacute. 
 They pitied her, too, for being saddled with that sister- 
 in-law of hers, poor Miss Lorraine Kingconstance, and 
 did not expect her two daughters to be much of a comfort 
 to her, either Julia would want some managing, my 
 word ! and as to Lorraine the younger commonly called 
 Babs the Impossible why, didn't the name amply de- 
 scribe her ? But when it came to Cadenhouse, criticism 
 ran dry. They had no fault to find with him, but that 
 in itself was a fault. They felt a certain aloofness in 
 him which did not please them. But of all this Caden- 
 house himself had no suspicion. It had not occurred to 
 him that he and his tower would be talked about at all. 
 
 Cadenhouse loved the tower, and had found fertilizing 
 food for thought in the associations that clung about it. 
 It had been built for a watch-tower in olden times. The 
 lands about were near enough to the sea-coast to be liable 
 to incursion. Roman and Norseman and Norman had 
 been there in turn, harrying the people ; and there were 
 still found bones and weapons, and ornaments cunning- 
 ly wrought in precious metals, eloquent traces of the hu- 
 man being, the same then as now in his primitive at- 
 tributes, the wild beast in him glorying in bloodshed, 
 and the reproductive animal artfully adorning himself 
 to allure. Many a mighty man had been spied from 
 the top of the tower and speared at its foot, and many a 
 beautiful, healthy, happy creature. Blood ! it was 
 always blood ! And, although the tide of war which 
 swirled about the tower had ebbed away ages ago, the 
 tradition remained. The history of the tower is the 
 history of civilization. The law of love has established 
 churches to enforce it, and it is on the lips of many
 
 PROEM 
 
 priests, but in the hearts of how few ! The power of love 
 is little suspected and less understood ; but the power of 
 hate is glorified. Love is preached, but hate is practised. 
 Yet slowly, in spite of everything, the law fulfils itself. 
 The tide has turned. About the tower where blood 
 flowed freely once, and dastardly deeds of cruelty were 
 approved, the grass grows green. The watcher on the 
 summit no longer fears the foe he gazes to other pur- 
 pose now. On bright, clear days he looks down tran- 
 quilly on the tranquil land green, fertile, well wooded, 
 well watered on husbandmen ploughing or reaping or 
 sowing, on garnered grain and grazing cattle, and every 
 evidence of happy industry, of peace and plenty ; while 
 away in the distance, yet well within sight, there sparkles, 
 bright blue and mysterious, a beautiful strip of sea. 
 White-winged yachts flit over it, ocean steamships pass 
 to their ports, fleets of fishing-smacks with ruddy sails 
 drop out from under the hill and stream away single file 
 to their fishing-grounds, full-rigged ships haunt the ho- 
 rizon, and near the shore moves an occasional pleasure- 
 boat, idle, aimless, but not inactive. Nothing more beau- 
 tiful, more indicative, than that prospect of earth and 
 sea and sky was ever seen. There was included in the 
 limitless expanse all that makes life lovely here, while 
 in the mystery of its blue distances, in its immensity, 
 were suggestions of the infinite, and of that which 
 argues in us for something beyond our finite faculties 
 and for eternity. 
 
 xii
 
 BARS 
 THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BABS the Impossible sat on the edge of her bed, 
 looking up, with the face of an angel and a heart 
 full of guile. She was looking at the portrait of 
 an ancestor of hers on the wall opposite. Her 
 ancestor had merry eyes that followed her all about the 
 room. He had been put there in disgrace for having 
 had himself so badly painted ; but he did not seem to 
 mind. Neither did Babs when she was sent there in 
 disgrace, which was pretty often. 
 
 " I'm bored," she said in herself, addressing the por- 
 trait. " What shall I do next?" 
 
 And, as if from the portrait in answer, there came to 
 her the words : 
 
 "There is a power whose care 
 
 Traces thy way along the pathless coast, 
 The desert, and illimitable air, 
 Lone wand'ring, but not lost." 
 
 Babs sat with her eyes on her ancestor, reflecting 
 deeply. It was not the first time the oracle had delivered
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 to her that same inscrutable suggestion, and she could 
 not make it out. 
 
 One of the blinds was up, but there was nothing 
 special to look at outside. On a sudden, however, a 
 strange light flowed across the valley from the summit 
 of the hill opposite. It shone right into the chamber 
 where Babs sat, and she transferred her attention to 
 it. She knew that light of old. As a rule, it was 
 elusive, but there were times when it glowed like a 
 sentient thing with colors that came and went to show 
 emotion. Now for a moment it flashed forth red, green, 
 and milky white ; but instantly it had assumed its 
 elusive appearance, and shone a soft, luminous haze 
 in the distance. So rapid was the transformation that 
 Babs thought she had been deceived in her first im- 
 pression. 
 
 " Cadenhouse has come home," she said to herself, 
 solemnly ; then she arose. 
 
 She had had a busy day, but a day of doubtful de- 
 lights. Pursuits that she had entered upon in eager an- 
 ticipation of pleasure had not proved to be so very amus- 
 ing, after all. In contemplation of them, her plans had 
 all been promising, but when she tried to work them 
 out something for which she had not allowed came into 
 the game, and made it perplexing and difficult, instead 
 of easy and agreeable. 
 
 First of all, there had been lessons and the ever-recur- 
 ring disputes with her governess. Babs disliked books. 
 She never had the slightest curiosity to know what was 
 in them, although she was fifteen. What she understood 
 by learning did not allure her. She had no ambition to 
 be master of any subject, and it was in vain that Miss 
 Minton, her governess, had striven to stir up a proper 
 spirit of emulation in her. 
 
 " You will be sorry for it by-and-by," Miss Minton had
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 said to her only that morning in the school-room. " Look 
 at Julia" 
 
 "Physical impossibility," said Babs, impertinently. 
 "Julia isn't here." 
 
 Miss Minton compressed her lips and shook her head. 
 
 " It's not that you haven't brains of a kind, Lorraine," 
 she said, " for you certainly have. If you were really 
 stupid, 1 should pity you and be kind and patient with 
 you, and not attempt to force you ; but as it is, 1 don't 
 know what to do. I'm here to teach you I'm paid to 
 teach you ; and although it is not my fault that 1 teach 
 you nothing, 1 have conscientious scruples about taking 
 money which 1 do not earn. " 
 
 " Give Julia a double dose of teaching, then," said 
 Babs, " to balance your scruples." 
 
 " Lorraine, 1 must insist upon being respected." 
 
 " Oh, 1 respect you right enough your character, you 
 know," Babs assured her, cordially, "it's in your argu- 
 ments I find the flaws." 
 
 Miss Minton paused, frowning with perplexity. 
 
 "Julia," she recommenced at last, with the precision 
 of suppressed irritation "Julia does the highest honor 
 to my poor efforts. She will be a credit to her family. 
 When she comes out people will be amazed at her brill- 
 iant accomplishments." 
 
 " When I come out they'll be amazed at my brilliant 
 ignorance," said Babs ; "and that will amuse them most 
 it's not so common." 
 
 Miss Minton had a fine, earnest, expressive face. She 
 was one of the new generation of teachers, who study 
 human nature and know something of its endless vari- 
 ety. She did not attempt to apply the same rule to Babs 
 that answered with her more conventional sister Julia ; 
 but she had tried, and tried again in vain, to find the 
 word that should appeal to Babs to persuade her. 
 
 " Lorraine," she began once more, after another pause, 
 
 3
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I feel disheartened. When you go out into the world, 
 believe me, you will look back upon these wasted days 
 and bitterly regret the spirit of opposition which is mak- 
 ing you decline to profit by the great advantages that 
 God has given you. I don't think I am unkind to you, 1 
 don't think I am unsympathetic ; but if you have any 
 complaint to make of me, if you could be different were / 
 different, tell me." 
 
 Babs's sensitive face flushed. 
 
 " Please don't speak to me like that, Miss Minton," 
 she exclaimed. " I think you're a brick, and 1 always 
 say so. But that doesn't alter me, you know." 
 
 "Don't say 'brick,' dear." 
 
 " Well, pearl, then. You're a pearl of great price, Miss 
 Minton worth your salary, every penny of it, and all we 
 can give you in the way of gratitude besides." 
 
 Miss Minton sighed. 
 
 " Such ridiculous exaggeration fails of its effect," she 
 said. 
 
 " No, but, Miss Minton, 1 do mean you're a good sort," 
 Babs protested. 
 
 "A good sort !" Miss Minton ejaculated. " Your 
 whole tone is deplorable." 
 
 ". 1 know," said Babs. 
 
 " But if you'd try, dear," Miss Minton pleaded. 
 
 * It isn't a bit of use," Babs answered, cheerfully "not 
 a bit." 
 
 * That's because you don't try." 
 
 "No, it isn't ; it's because 1 have tried, and I know. 
 The more I pore over those beastly books " 
 
 Miss Minton tapped on the table sharply with the ruler. 
 Babs started, and raised her eyebrows interrogatively. 
 
 " What kind of books ?" Miss Minton demanded. 
 
 " Those objectionable books," Babs reeled off, un- 
 abashed. " The more I try to master them, the less 1 
 learn. But when I don't try when I persevere long 
 
 4
 
 "IN HER HURRY SHE TIPPED UP THE TABLE"
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 enough in not trying then things come to me things 
 that I seem to understand better than the things that 
 have been explained to me, if you know what I mean." 
 
 " It sounds very like nonsense," said Miss Minton, dry- 
 ly. " But at any rate, we can't go on like this. You 
 don't know a single lesson to-day, and here you have 
 been sitting all the morning with a book before you and 
 your eyes on the view from that window, not making 
 the slightest attempt to learn. I cannot conscien- 
 tiously let you go on like this. I must tell your mam- 
 ma." 
 
 Babs's eyes had again sought the distant prospect 
 while Miss Minton was speaking. 
 
 " Mamma be blowed 1" she ejaculated, dreamily. 
 
 " Lorraine !" 
 
 " Gently wafted away, then, if you like that better," 
 said Babs. 
 
 " Really, Lorraine, your language is " 
 
 " A sign of the antiquity of my family," said Lorraine, 
 casting her eyes about as if she were looking for some- 
 thing. " Language always goes to the bad in old fam- 
 ilies. It's the new people who are genteel. We're nearer 
 to nature." 
 
 She rose as she spoke, and in her hurry tipped up the 
 table with a sudden jerk, so that everything on it, includ- 
 ing the inkstand, slid down into Miss Minton's lap, made 
 a dash for the door, and had disappeared before the gov- 
 erness knew what was happening. 
 
 Miss Minton picked up the things patiently, and put 
 the room tidy, lingering over the task because she felt 
 it her duty to appear before Mrs. Kingconstance to show 
 her ink - stained gown and complain of Babs ; and 
 Miss Minton hated to have to complain of Babs. Even 
 as she put the room to rights she began to make excuses 
 for her. She thought the weather had something to do 
 with her perversity, for the wind was cold, the sky was 
 
 5
 
 J 
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 lowering, and the day altogether was sombre and sad 
 a day to make the sensitive shiver. 
 
 But there are some enviable beings who, during their 
 blissful span of life, set atmospheric pressure at naught 
 and never know which way the wind blows. Mrs. King- 
 constance was one of these. If the sun shone, she or- 
 dered the carriage ; if the rain fell, she ordered a fire ; 
 but in either case she was quite content. No foolish 
 wish to alter the unalterable had ever disturbed her. She 
 had never tried to plumb hidden depths of heart and 
 soul, nor sought to see beneath the surface of society- 
 She had no notion, in fact, that society was anything but 
 surface. As the people she met appeared to her, so she 
 understood them to be. She herself was one of those of 
 whom it is said that they are always the same. This is 
 meant for a compliment by the unobservant, who, hav- 
 ing no wisdom themselves, nor power to apply the wis- 
 dom of others, go unwitting of the word that holds up to 
 us " infinite variety " as the one charm that is ageless 
 and deathless. 
 
 Life was no enigma to Mrs. Kingconstance, for the 
 simple reason that she was content with such knowledge 
 of it as she possessed. Progress did not enter into her 
 state ; it was stagnant. She had no vague longings 
 for she knew not what, no vain regrets. The little world 
 of her experience satisfied her, and it was natural that it 
 should, for she found herself exactly w r here she wished to 
 be. Her income was ample, and, being the widow of a 
 large land-owner and mother of a young inheritor, for 
 whom it was her congenial duty to keep up the family 
 mansion and nurse the estates, she looked down upon 
 life from a desirable but not too elevated position, and 
 that is by far the best place from which to obtain a satis- 
 factory view of it. It is less enchanting to be upon the 
 heights than to look upon them. Who is so thrilled as 
 your snob of good birth when royalty smiles upon him ? 
 
 6
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Royalty itself knows no thrill to be compared to it. Sit- 
 uated as Mrs. Kingconstance was, such glimpses as she 
 obtained of the most scandalous social intrigues took on 
 the interest of picturesque romance, and even horrors of 
 battle, of suffering at sea, of privation, of disease, did.not 
 disturb her, but, on the contrary, being stripped by gen- 
 tlemanly journalists of shrieks and groans, distorted 
 features, scattered brains, torn limbs, and bleeding 
 wounds, these events merely appealed to her as items of 
 interest sufficiently exciting to be a welcome variety. 
 She could sip her afternoon tea complacently while read- 
 ing accounts of horrid crimes in the best newspapers. 
 Only, of course, she always said the right thing on such 
 subjects, such as " Dear ! dear !" and " How very dread- 
 ful !" which was natural, for who expects a handsome 
 woman of thirty-eight, with health, wealth, and position, 
 to do more ? 
 
 It was comfort that Mrs. Kingconstance aimed at in 
 everything, and that not only for herself, be it said to her 
 credit, but for everybody in her establishment. If the 
 comfortable happened to clash with the picturesque, she 
 preferred the comfortable. She had substituted sashes 
 with plate-glass for lattice windows all over the house, 
 because they fitted best. " Lattices are all very well in 
 poetty," she said, " but pretty words don't keep the cold 
 out." And in order to prevent damp and insure heat she 
 had caused the old, mellow red-brick mansion to be cov- 
 ered with a great coat of gray cement. She had no sen- 
 timent about old furniture, either. She particularly dis- 
 liked worm-eaten wood. Design was all very well, but 
 she must have everything made in nice ne\v wood, well 
 seasoned. Her own sitting-room was naturally charac- 
 teristic. Everything in it was a luxury. Inlaid satin- 
 wood, great down cushions, broad couches, deep easy- 
 chairs, the sheen of silk and satin coverings, the har- 
 mony of various tints and tones of delicate color, the 
 
 7
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 pictures, the china, all combined to produce an eminently 
 luxurious effect. Not a note jarred. Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance simply called it comfort. But then she had never 
 known what it was to be a day without lovely, costly 
 things to refresh her mind and delight her eyes. Habit 
 had made them the mere common necessaries of life to 
 her, and she had no idea of their value apart from their 
 usefulness and the pleasure they gave. About her all 
 was redundant, and she herself threatened to be the 
 same. 
 
 There is a touch of mimicry in nature, to which human 
 nature is also liable, so that we often see in people some- 
 what of the quality that specially distinguishes their sur- 
 roundings. There is action and reaction in this. Mrs. 
 Kingconstance was responsible for the luxury about her; 
 but the luxury about her was in turn responsible for what 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was becoming. She was already 
 more ample than a woman of thirty-eight need be in ac- 
 tive life. Not that she was fat, but fat was threatening. 
 At present she was only just full-blown ; but she lolled 
 too much on luxurious cushions, she tasted every morsel 
 of her food too scrupulously when it was specially to her 
 liking which it generally w r as and she cultivated con- 
 tent to an extreme that was dangerous. Thankfulness 
 for her lot in life distinguished her. "My fate might 
 have been otherwise," she would say by way of reproof 
 to her sister-in-law, Miss Kingconstance, who was not at 
 all of her disposition ; but such as it is, 1 am thankful 
 for it. We ought to be contented with our lot in life." 
 And then she would nestle in her easiest chair, with just 
 a glance at the clock, perhaps. But she never permitted 
 herself to wish that the time might fly ; she prided her- 
 self upon that. Not even would she wish for the most im- 
 portant time of the day to come quicker the dinner-time. 
 
 The interview with Miss Minton was over. It had ruf-
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 fled Mrs. Kingconstance considerably for the moment, 
 but by the time she retired to her own sitting-room after 
 luncheon there was very little of that sensation left. She 
 had recovered her equanimity by the simple expedient of 
 transferring her own responsibility to another person. 
 Miss Minton had declared that something must be done 
 that it would not do to let Babs have it all her own way. 
 Mrs. Kingconstance agreed, but she never dreamed of 
 troubling her own head as to what should be done. She 
 sent, instead, for the vicar of the parish, and was now 
 tranquilly awaiting his arrival. She had great confi- 
 dence in the Honorable and Reverend Wilfred Wynd- 
 ham Worringham more confidence in the " Honorable," 
 perhaps, than in the " Reverend." Most of the people 
 about there had. They might forget that he was a 
 " Reverend " by profession, but they never forgot that he 
 was an " Honorable " by courtesy. That is the kind of 
 thing to which people attach importance seventeen miles 
 from a railway station. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was clever with her fingers. She 
 made beautiful real lace with bobbins on a satin pillow. 
 And now, while she waited, she worked. It was delicate 
 work, requiring much nicety of touch ; but she moved 
 her white fingers among the bobbins rapidly, and with 
 little care, as it seemed, like one who has acquired skill 
 and facility by long practice ; and, as she worked, the 
 gems in her rings flashed iridescent in the fire-light, and 
 the expression of her countenance varied from one de- 
 gree of amiability to another. The weather without and 
 the warmth within combined to comfort her by force of 
 contrast. Bitter squalls of wind and rain beat upon the 
 windows, but the thick plate-glass and the well-fitting 
 sashes defied their onslaught, while the amber red of the 
 fire glowed all the brighter for the chilly gray back- 
 ground of sombre sky. 
 
 Presently the door began to open, as if of itself, in a
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 languid way. Mrs. Kingconstance happened to glance 
 towards it at the moment, otherwise she would not have 
 known that it was opening, so gently was it done. There 
 was something mysterious in the almost imperceptible 
 motion of it. If spirits opened doors instead of passing 
 through them, they might be expected to open them so. 
 But Mrs. Kingconstance watched the movement undis- 
 turbed, her face meanwhile melting from mild expectancy 
 into a smile of greeting as a slender, elegant lady of no 
 certain age sauntered in with a listless step, looking 
 more, however, as if she hated the exertion than as if she 
 were unequal to it. She shut the door as she had opened 
 it slowly, slowly. 
 
 " You are late to-day, Lorraine," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 said. " I hope you are well ?" 
 
 The lady answered, carelessly : " Indifferent well, 1 
 thank you. And you ?" 
 
 " The same, thanks," Mrs. Kingconstance said, smil- 
 ing ; then added, " A quaint old phrase." 
 
 " Yes, and expressive," was the reply. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance went on with her work. The lady 
 her sister-in-law, Miss Kingconstance sank slowly 
 into an easy-chair by the fire, and sat with her eyes 
 thoughtfully fixed on the flame. 
 
 " Indifferent well," she muttered, at last. " I was just 
 thinking. We go about everything in a half-hearted 
 way ; and the best we do is but indifferent well done." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance smiled vaguely, her fingers mov- 
 ing the while among her bobbins rhythmically. 
 
 " So you are not going away for a little change, after 
 all ?" she ventured, after a pause. 
 
 " No," the other rejoined ; then she rose restlessly and 
 began to saunter about the room. " What is the use ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " It might do you good." 
 
 " As likely as that I shall ever do any good myself. If
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 change could have done me any good, we have change 
 enough here change of weather, change of season, and 
 the great change from the bare branch to the green leaf, 
 which should enliven us all, but never affects me, except 
 in so far as it moves me to observe that it does not do so. 
 lam numb; I am dead; I have ceased to care." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance continued to make lace tranquil- 
 ly. Her normal condition of content, due to physical 
 well-being, was not to be disturbed by such a trifle as an- 
 other person's unhappy state of mind. 
 
 There was another pause after her companion had 
 ceased to speak, during which Miss Kingconstance re- 
 turned to the fireplace and stood looking down into the 
 fire. Once or twice she sighed heavily, then she mut- 
 tered, in a voice like an inarticulate sigh, 
 
 " Dead, long dead, long dead, 
 And my heart is a handful of dust." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance looked at her with a tentative 
 smile. 
 
 " We must have some more coals, I think," she said, 
 then waited a moment ; but as the other lady did not 
 move, she was obliged to put down her work and get up 
 and ring for them herself. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance awoke to the fact of her remiss- 
 ness. 
 
 " Pardon me," she said. " I ought to have rung." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, why ?" Mrs. Kingconstance rejoined, 
 good-naturedly, as she settled herself and her bobbins 
 once more. " It is good for me to get up. I sometimes 
 think I sit too long at a time." 
 
 " Very likely," was the dry rejoinder ; " but that is no 
 excuse for me. I ought to have rung. You were sitting 
 you had your hands full ; 1 was standing, with noth- 
 ing in my hands, and near the bell. No excuse for 
 me. There never was ; there never is." 
 
 ii
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I can't see why you should have rung, my dear/' 
 Mrs. Kingconstance reiterated, comfortably. 
 
 " We should always be on the alert to do such things 
 for each other. It is just such trifles that promote the 
 harmony of life." 
 
 " Oh, quite so," said Mrs. Kingconstance ; then, catch- 
 ing at the word " harmony," " Have you practised to- 
 day ?" she asked. " It would be nice if you would play 
 something now." 
 
 " No, I cannot. There is no music in me. I am all out 
 of tune." 
 
 " Ah, that is the weather," Mrs. Kingconstance ob- 
 served. 
 
 Meanwhile, outside, the wind blew, great drops of rain 
 pattered upon the window-panes at every gust, and the 
 bleak March day threatened to close in rapidly. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance had sunk once more into the seat 
 beside the fire, and sat looking up at the leaden sky, with 
 a face as sombre and black as the level, murky, unbroken 
 gray firmament above her. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance glanced up at the clock. 
 
 * Tea-time," she remarked. " I rather expect the vicar, 
 and I want to see him particularly." 
 
 " I rather want to see him myself, the Honorable noo- 
 dle." 
 
 " Ah, Lorraine, your naughty trick of nicknaming !" 
 said Mrs. Kingconstance. " But we mustn't forget that 
 the vicar is a gentleman, and has feelings to be hurt. It 
 would not do to let him know his nickname, however 
 appropriate." 
 
 " No," said Miss Kingconstance ; " you are quite right, 
 and I hope you won't mention it to him." 
 
 Almost immediately afterwards a servant announced 
 Mr. Worringham, and the vicar entered an ascetic, be- 
 nevolent, amiable-looking old gentleman, somewhat pre- 
 cise in manner, but simple and kindly withal. 
 
 12
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Tea was brought in at the same time, and it was hard 
 to say which was the most welcome as a diversion to 
 Mrs. Kingconstance, she smiled so impartially on both. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance took no notice of either, and, not- 
 ing her attitude, the vicar lowered his voice. 
 
 " A bad day ?" he said, raising his eyebrows interroga- 
 tively. 
 
 " Threatening," said Mrs. Kingconstance, signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 " What's threatening ?" Miss Kingconstance broke in, 
 turning round on them unexpectedly. 
 
 Both were embarrassed for a moment, then Mr. Wor- 
 ringham said, 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Lorraine ?" 
 
 "How do I do?" 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders expressively, then turned 
 again to the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance flushed. 
 
 " I wonder where the children are ?" she hastily inter- 
 posed. " I have not heard them about the whole after- 
 noon. Surely they have not gone out in the wet. You 
 didn't meet them, did you, Mr. Worringham ?" 
 
 Mr. Worringham had not met them. 
 
 " Babs cares nothing for weather." Mrs. Kingconstance 
 pursued, " and really it does not seem to do her any harm. 
 She is not sensitive. But she drags Julia and Monta- 
 cute after her wherever she goes, and it's no use talking 
 to her. She grows more and more unmanageable every 
 day. Can you advise me, Mr. Worringham ? The other 
 children are as good as gold ; but I can do nothing with 
 Babs." 
 
 " Poor, dear Babs 1" Miss Kingconstance murmured, 
 softly. 
 
 " Perhaps," Mr. Worringham mildly suggested, " you 
 are not strict enough with Lorraine. I mean er that, 
 in fact, when you say she must not do a thing, you 
 
 13
 
 do not always make her obey. Now Lorraine is clever 
 in her way she is very clever in her own way, 
 don't you know ; not book clever I won't say that 
 but vshrewd. I will explain what I mean. Excuse 
 me for being a little personal; but you are too good- 
 natured, my dear lady, too amiable, and er in this 
 case I might almost say too indulgent. It is natural, of 
 course, and it is hard for mothers to do violence to their 
 own feelings, even for the sake of their children; but 
 then, you see, dear lady, it is your duty." 
 
 " Of course I am anxious to do my duty," Mrs. King- 
 constance rejoined, sitting up with a self-denying air. 
 " But you were going to explain ?" 
 
 1 Mr. Worringham searched about in his mind for what 
 he had intended to say. 
 
 " Told to do a thing and isn't made to do it," Miss King- 
 constance prompted, impatiently. 
 
 " Ah, yes, yes," he said. " I was going to explain ; of 
 course, of course. When you tell her to do something, 
 you see, you must be sure that she does it. For instance, 
 you say at breakfast, or it may happen that you say I 
 do not, of course, assert that this has actually occurred ; 
 but something like it may have occurred, or sooner or 
 later exactly this very thing will occur, don't you know. 
 It is just as well to be prepared." 
 
 A sense of edification began to irradiate the habitual 
 complacency of Mrs. Kingconstance's comely counte- 
 nance. But the good vicar had lost the thread of his dis- 
 course and come to another full stop. 
 
 " 'You say at breakfast, for instance/ " Miss King- 
 constance prompted again, irritably. 
 
 " Er yes, yes," said the vicar, catching the cue. " You 
 might say, for instance, don't you know, ' Nov. 7 , Lorraine 
 or Babs, if you like you are not to go out this morn- 
 ing.' And an hour afterwards what do yon do ? She 
 comes and coaxes, and you yield to her coaxing, and let
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 her go after saying that she mustn't, don't, you see ? 
 And that is a want of in fact, a want of firmness. That 
 is where you mothers fail. You want more firmness." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance set her soft lips, and began to 
 rehearse the part of firm mother with decision. Miss 
 Kingconstance looked at her and smiled derisively. 
 
 15
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BABS had an idea in her head that afternoon. 
 There was something she wanted to do, and 
 when Babs had an idea, it was generally carried 
 out, for Babs was practical. Grown-up people 
 generally dubbed her ideas unlady-like when they came 
 to know of them ; but Babs recked little of what they 
 thought, the grown-up people. " Mamma is herself and 
 I am myself," she would explain, " and we don't think 
 of the same things. If mamma thought what I think, 
 she'd do what I do. I know she would ; but she doesn't 
 seem to know it herself. I never bother my head about 
 what she thinks and does it isn't my business but 
 she's always worrying after me. I wish she wouldn't." 
 On that particular cold, wet, March afternoon, Babs was 
 heading an expedition. The party consisted of herself 
 and her brother and sister, and just at the time that Mrs. 
 Kingconstance was wondering what had become of the 
 children, Babs was leading them resolutely, single file, 
 down dripping lanes, where the cart- ruts were channelled 
 deep with running water, and along narrow paths across 
 fields of the muddiest. She did not seem to notice the 
 discomfort of the day herself. All weather was pretty 
 much the same to Babs, provided she could evade the au- 
 thorities and get out. And now, although the wind bat- 
 tered her, and at every gust the drops rained cold upon 
 her from the tall hedgerows and the branches of the trees, 
 she stepped out cheerily, noting with keen interest every 
 object by the wav, but never losing sight of her purpose 
 
 16
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 for an instant. The demeanor of the other two was very 
 different. The boy, who came last and seemed to be the 
 youngest of the three, although in reality the eldest, 
 struggled along against the wind with bent head, gazing 
 on the ground. His attitude suggested endurance rather 
 than enjoyment. He was a fragile-looking creature, 
 with pale blue eyes, a white face, and colorless fair hair 
 not made for a life of action, evidently, yet holding his 
 own with dogged determination against the difficulties 
 and discomforts of the moment. Not so with his sister 
 Julia. She and Babs were about the same height, and 
 might have been any age from twelve to sixteen ; but it 
 was impossible to say which was the elder of the two, and 
 no sisters could have been more unlike in appearance. 
 Julia was dark, with black hair, clear brown skin and 
 bright color, and large, bold brown eyes eyes that met 
 all other eyes directly, and were not to be abashed. She 
 walked stiffly, with her head held high, and an expres- 
 sion of. self-esteem on her countenance, which was not 
 pleasant in so young a girl. Indeed, her whole manner 
 was self-assertive, and she gathered her skirts up about 
 her out of the wet in a way which suggested a more co- 
 quettish regard for her personal appearance than is usual 
 or desirable at her age. Her determined mouth might 
 have led a casual observer to suppose that she was the 
 one of the three who would take the lead in everything. 
 It was not so, however. While her brother and sister 
 were for open tactics, her influence w r as bound to be sec- 
 ondary; but any chance for deflection would put the 
 game into her hands. 
 
 Although Babs presented a complete contrast to her 
 sister in appearance, being fair, with fine golden-yellow T 
 hair, milk-white skin just tinged with pink, and tender 
 blue eyes, it was the more radical difference of character 
 which betrays itself in the general demeanor, in manner 
 and movement, rather than in form, feature, and coloring, 
 B 17
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 the different mode of thought and habit of observation, 
 that made the most striking part of the dissimilarity. As 
 they followed each other down the narrow path, Julia 
 turned her dark eyes vigilantly from right to left, and 
 picked her steps, being careful to avoid the discomfort of 
 getting wet ; but the dark eyes noted only unpleasant 
 obstacles to be avoided. She did not see it when the day 
 began to clear and the clouds rolled away in heavy 
 masses, all tinged with burnished copper where the sun's 
 rays struggled to pierce them. Neither did she notice 
 the twitter of birds in the hedgerows, nor the fresh odors 
 that arose from the damp earth, nor the sparkle of crys- 
 tal drops on bare brown branches. It was simply a nasty, 
 wet afternoon to Julia, and she was very sorry she had 
 allowed herself to be persuaded to come out. Not that 
 she had been persuaded. The other two did not want 
 her much, but she would come which did not prevent 
 her blaming everybody but herself for the discomfort. 
 
 But Babs took no notice of her sister's discontent. She 
 carried a little basket in her hand, and swung her arm as 
 she walked along, in her own careless way, with light, 
 elastic step, splashing her dress with mud and wetting 
 her boots, because everything the sky, the clouds, the 
 trees, the fields, the birds, the beasts claimed her atten- 
 tion, everything except the ground at her feet. 
 
 When any word was exchanged between the three, it 
 was generally Babs who broke the silence, and it was her 
 brother she addressed as a rule, being sure of his sym- 
 pathy. Julia was much too busy taking care of herself 
 to notice what the other two said, but once or twice she 
 asked tartly how much farther they had to go, and carped 
 at the invariable answer : " We shall be there directly." 
 
 They had not met a soul since they came out until, in 
 a winding lane flanked by high hedges, they came upon 
 a little lady with flaxen ringlets mincing along, holding 
 up her dress with a finger and thumb on either side, and 
 
 18
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 pointing her toes to pick her steps, as if she were gliding 
 through the figures of a minuet. 
 
 " Here's Twitters/' Julia remarked ; then, with that 
 rather loud affectation of bluntness which passes with 
 some people for kindly condescension, she called to her : 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Spice ?" 
 
 Miss Spice minuetted up to them with little noddings 
 and gesticulations, shaking her ringlets back and gig- 
 gling youthfully. 
 
 " Oh, my dears, what a day ! Well, I'm sure ! What 
 has brought you all out ? Excuse shaking hands ; I 
 daren't let go my dress." 
 
 " What brought you out, Miss Spice ?" said Babs. 
 
 " Oh, my dears ! Aunt Sophia, you know." She 
 dropped her voice mysteriously, and bespoke secrecy 
 with sundry nods and winks. " A little something for 
 tea, you know, to tempt her. Must fetch it. And how 
 is your dear mamma ?" 
 
 " Oh, she's all right," said Babs. 
 
 " And your poor dear Aunt Lorraine ?" 
 
 " There is nothing the matter with Aunt Lorraine, 
 Miss Spice," Julia rejoined, bridling. 
 
 " Oh, my dear ; no, of course not," Miss Spice has- 
 tened to agree, apologetically. " I am glad she is quite 
 well, as usual. I must hurry off. Aunt's tea. Good- 
 bye ! Good-bye, dears !" 
 
 She picked up her dress on either side, made them a 
 little courtesy, and minuetted off, pointing her toes to 
 cross the mud-puddles elegantly, her flaxen ringlets curl- 
 ing and uncurling at every step like animated main- 
 springs. 
 
 " Well, I do call that impertinence I" Julia exclaimed, 
 hardly waiting for Miss Spice to be out of hearing. 
 " ' Poor dear Aunt Lorraine,' indeed ! As if a fool in 
 our family were not of more consequence than a hero 
 in hers." 
 
 19
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " There you are !" said Babs. " That's the inhuman- 
 ity of the county again. County people are all for them- 
 selves." 
 
 " If you don't mind, Babs, you'll end by being a Radi- 
 cal/' her brother said, impressively. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind," Babs answered, carelessly. "Aunt 
 Lorraine calls the county inhuman, and Aunt Lorraine 
 is not such a fool as some people suppose." 
 
 " She's just cracky," said Montacute. 
 
 " She may be that, but she's not a fool," Babs obsti- 
 nately asseverated. 
 
 " Then why did she let the burglars out ?" Julia de- 
 manded. 
 
 " I expect she did it for fun," Babs answered, discon- 
 certed, but not to be driven from her loyal defence. 
 
 They were climbing down a steep, narrow, rugged path 
 between two coverts, and came in sight of a shallow, un- 
 pleasant-looking pond, in which the path apparently 
 ended. The heavy rain had swollen the ditches, and all 
 the low-lying ground at the foot of the hill was under 
 water. 
 
 " Oh, Cute, look !" said Babs. " What shall we do ?" 
 
 She ran down to the water's edge as she spoke. On the 
 other side of the pond a hillock rose abruptly out of the 
 water. It was crowned by a young plantation, and its 
 deep green sides were a mass of white and purple violets, 
 the perfume from which reached the young people where 
 they stood. 
 
 Babs stamped. 
 
 " Mamma must have them/' she said, with decision ; 
 but she was baffled. 
 
 " So this is your fine mystery ?" Julia exclaimed, 
 crossly. " I don't see why you wouldn't tell me." 
 
 " We meant to surprise mamma with them/' said Mon- 
 tacute. 
 
 " What has that to do with it ?" 
 
 20
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Our surprises don't come off, somehow, when you 
 know about them beforehand." 
 
 " Do you mean to accuse me of telling ?" 
 
 " You generally tell," said Babs, still intent upon the 
 violets. 
 
 " So I should," said Julia, shifting her ground. " It's 
 sly and deceitful to hide things from mamma." 
 
 " What kind of things ?" Montacute asked, politely. 
 
 " Any kind," Julia snapped. 
 
 " Well, you are silly," he rejoined. 
 
 " Why am I silly ?" she demanded. 
 
 " Because if your argument makes it deceitful for us 
 to prepare surprises for mamma, it must make it deceit- 
 ful for mamma to prepare surprises for us. Your logic 
 won't hold water." 
 
 " What do you know about logic ?" Julia jeered. 
 
 " Not much, if my acquirements are to be measured by 
 yours," said Montacute. 
 
 " I must do it," Babs broke in. 
 
 The other two suspended hostilities. 
 
 " Do what ?" they demanded, speaking together. 
 
 "Go across." 
 
 " That dirty water !" Julia cried, with disgust. 
 
 " If anybody goes across, it shall be me," said the boy. 
 
 " No, no," said Babs, decisively. 
 
 " I can't let you girls do that sort of thing, you know," 
 he persisted. 
 
 " Many boys make their sisters do that sort of thing," 
 Babs said, tactfully. 
 
 " But I am a gentleman," said the lad. 
 
 " I know," said Babs. " You needn't risk a cold to 
 prove it." 
 
 " Nonsense about cold," he said, and began to take off 
 his boots. 
 
 Both girls caught hold of him. 
 
 " You're not going in," they objected. 
 21
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Let go !" he cried, trying vainly to shake them off. 
 
 " Not till you promise you won't," said Babs. 
 
 " Do promise," said Julia, maliciously. " It does look 
 so absurd to see a boy being held by two girls." 
 
 Babs instantly dropped his arm and gave her sister 
 a meaning look, which Julia met derisively. The boy 
 stood still, deeply hurt. He was sensitive on the subject 
 of his delicacy. 
 
 " He could shake us off easily enough if he chose," said 
 Babs, abasing herself to pour balm on the wound ; " but 
 he's too much of a gentleman to be rough with girls. 
 You'll let rne go in, Cute, won't you ? I've set my heart 
 on getting the flowers myself." 
 
 The boy turned without a word and began to walk 
 back slowly up the steep path by which they had just 
 descended, his interest in everything suddenly extin- 
 guished. His delicate health and stunted growth were 
 a grief to him. 
 
 Babs looked sorrowfully after him as he went, then 
 turned to her sister. 
 
 " I'd say you were a beast, Julia, if the comparison 
 were not an insult to honest animals." 
 
 " You are noted for your refinement," Julia retorted. 
 
 Babs shrugged her shoulders and peered down into 
 the loathsome-looking water. There might be horse- 
 leeches in it, and there were certainly horrid little animals 
 that turned up their tails like scorpions, and Babs had a 
 fastidious gentlewomanly shrinking from crawling creat- 
 ures ; but even while she hesitated she was tucking up 
 her skirts and preparing to plunge in. She did not go 
 through the form of removing her already wet shoes and 
 stockings. 
 
 Julia sat on a stone and watched her, all her interest 
 centred on the anticipation of mishaps. Once Babs 
 slipped on a stone and came down ; but she held 
 her countenance calmly impassive, even when the ice- 
 
 22
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 cold muddy water came up to her chin, because Julia 
 laughed. 
 
 When the violets were gathered she returned to the 
 bank and began to arrange them. 
 
 "Do be quick!" said Julia. "We shall never get 
 home." 
 
 " What's keeping you ?" said Babs. 
 
 * I don't wi.sh to go alone." 
 
 " Well, I've just done ; but I should be quicker if you'd 
 help me." 
 
 " I can't do that. I should dirty my hands." 
 
 " What harm would that do you ?" 
 
 " It spoils one's hands so, washing them often." 
 
 " Oh, Julia, my dear !" Babs exclaimed, " you'll cer- 
 tainly end by inventing a glass case in which to keep 
 yourself, that the dust may not light upon you. Talk 
 about Aunt Lorraine ! When you're an old woman " 
 
 But Babs never finished the phrase, for Julia jumped 
 up, snatched the basket of violets from the ground, and 
 tore off up the hill with it. 
 
 Babs made a move to follow her, then stood still. 
 
 " I could easily overtake you, my dear," she said to 
 herself ; " but what does it matter ? Let our accounts 
 accumulate. We'll settle them all together when it's 
 worth while." 
 
 She yawned as she spoke, and began to climb the hill- 
 path slowly, much hampered by her clinging wet clothes. 
 
 23
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ISS SPICE had gone on, with her warm little 
 heart full of kind consideration for Aunt So- 
 phia's tea. The village shop was her goal, and 
 something tasty and tinned her object. At the 
 same time her little head was busy with a romance she 
 had just been reading, in the costume of the Charles's, 
 when the court was in curls and dames were stately. 
 Miss Spice, holding up her skirts on either side w r ith a 
 finger and thumb, minuetted round a puddle here or 
 pointed a toe across a fairy obstacle there, playing a 
 part as she proceeded in the procession of gallant gen- 
 tlemen and lovely ladies who were passing in groups 
 across her consciousness, and making of herself the 
 quaintest little figure it is possible to imagine as still 
 lingering at this time of day, even in a country district 
 several decades behind the times. 
 
 Miss Spice had been in London once just once for a 
 blissful week. She had knelt in St. Paul's and West- 
 minster Abbey and felt religious; had gazed at the 
 Houses of Parliament and felt the importance of official- 
 dom ; had gone to the Tower and felt for kings and 
 queens, and to Madame Tussaud's and felt history 
 combined with horror of the French Revolution and a 
 wicked interest in the dissolute society of courts ; she 
 had heard some singers at a Cry.stal Palace concert, and 
 herself had sung quite in the professional manner ever 
 .since ; and she had attended Church parade in the Park 
 on Sunday morning, and felt with a thrill what it is to 
 
 24
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 be fashionable and worldly. " When I was in London " 
 was the happy epoch from which Miss Spice dated all her 
 experiences of life. 
 
 Miss Spice's fluffy, fair flaxen hair curled all over her 
 head and flowed a little way down her back, just as it had 
 done when she was sixteen. She had never thought of 
 arranging her tresses in any other way. Probably, had 
 she done so, remarks would have been made. That is 
 the kind of thing that happens seventeen miles from 
 a railway station. People object to new-fangled notions 
 in such localities. Change is to them a stranger at 
 whom they are ever ready to heave the half-brick. Miss 
 Spice had a pretty little pink and white face, with a 
 pointed chin, and a complexion so delicate that you had 
 to look close in order to discover the lines which told tales 
 about Miss Spice's.age. For years had elapsed, alas 1 
 since the golden spring " when I was in London." 
 
 Miss Spice was treading a measure, accompanied by 
 the sweet music of her own little voice, managed quite in 
 the professional manner, when on a sudden in the dis- 
 tance she perceived a stranger approaching a tall, not to 
 say ponderous, gentleman in a black frock-coat, obtru- 
 sively white linen, and a silk hat a costume only seen on 
 Sundays, in the company of the best people, when stran- 
 gers from London visited that remote region. As they 
 nearedeach other, Miss Spice became aware of something 
 unusually magnificent about this stranger, something ex- 
 traordinarily important even in the flap of his coat-tails 
 as they waggled from side to side, and when she came 
 abreast of him Miss Spice involuntarily dropped him a 
 courtesy. She had once before in her life involuntarily 
 dropped such a courtesy to a gentleman, a royal duke, who 
 had passed her at a considerable distance one day when 
 she was in London. Being unaware of the compliment, 
 the royal duke had not acknowledged it ; but this stran- 
 ger instantly doffed his hat and bowed profoundly. In 
 
 25
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 her day-dreams Miss Spice was accustomed to meet the 
 most lordly knights, who always saluted her, and she 
 was not embarrassed ; and, until the stranger bowed, he 
 was a being of that order. The moment afterwards, 
 however, all was altered, and Miss Spice was in such a 
 nutter that she hurried on incontinently. Her imagina- 
 tion also hurried on. If only it had been a fine day ! If 
 only there had been flowers in the hedgerows she might 
 have culled one ! If only she could sprain her ankle, do 
 something anything to attract his attention, excite 
 his interest, and claim his assistance ! 
 
 Little Miss Spice looked round, and just at that mo- 
 ment the stranger also turned turned back and his 
 hat was again in his hand. Miss Spice awaited his com- 
 ing of necessity, for she was paralyzed. The stranger's 
 step was leisurely, as became the dignitj'' of his portly 
 presence ; it seemed to Miss Spice an age till he reached 
 her. She w r atched his coming like a fascinated bird ; 
 but Miss Spice was a happy little bird. The dream of 
 her life was about to be accomplished. 
 
 " Er pardon me, madam," were the very first words 
 the distinguished-looking stranger said to Miss Spice; 
 and she never forgot that " Certainly " was all she an- 
 swered. 
 
 " Perhaps, madam," said the distinguished-looking 
 stranger and each word took on a special importance 
 from the impressive way in which he pronounced it 
 " perhaps, madam, you can tell me, is this the way to 
 the village of Danehurst ?" and he made a grand gesture 
 which included the whole landscape behind him. 
 
 " No, sir/' said Miss Spice, rising to the occasion ; 
 " this is the way to the village of Danehurst," and she 
 gracefully waved her little hand in the opposite direction. 
 " I am going there myself ," she continued, extending her 
 skirts to a courtesy, " and I will show you the way if 
 you like." 
 
 26
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," said the stranger, and again 
 he raised his hat and bowed politely. " You are not a 
 native of these parts, I feel sure," was his next remark 
 as they walked on together. 
 
 Miss Spice perked as at a compliment. She was bob- 
 bing along with the portly stranger like a tiny boat be- 
 side a man-of-war. 
 
 " Oh yes, I am," she twittered ; " very much a native 
 of these parts." 
 
 "Ah, then you have travelled," he observed. " I feel 
 sure you have travelled." 
 
 " What makes you think so ?" said Miss Spice, much 
 pleased. 
 
 " Well er it is hard to define, if I may say so. A 
 something a nuance, my dear young lady, and voila 
 tout !" 
 
 " Oh yes, to be sure," said Miss Spice. 
 
 " I suppose you know everybody in the neighbor- 
 hood ?" the stranger proceeded. 
 
 " Well, pretty nearly," Miss Spice acknowledged, mod- 
 estly. " It is a little place, you know, seventeen miles 
 from a railway station." 
 
 " I know," he replied. " The great charm of the place 
 to me consists in the fact that it is seventeen miles from 
 a railway station. In such places the homely virtues 
 nourish and people are thrown upon each other for so- 
 ciety. That is why I am here. But doubtless you had 
 heard of my arrival ?" 
 
 " No/' gasped Miss Spice, breathlessly. " Have you 
 come to stay ?" 
 
 " Yes " he paused " if I can find a suitable resi- 
 dence." 
 
 " Oh I" said Miss Spice. 
 
 " Yes " he paused again, then added, impressively, 
 " My name is Tinney." 
 
 Miss Spice's heart contracted " Tinney 1" 
 
 27
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Capel Augustus Jellybond Tinney," the stranger 
 proceeded, and as he unrolled the syllables Miss Spice's 
 heart expanded again. " Jellybond Tinney," the stran- 
 ger repeated. 
 
 " Hyphened ?" Miss Spice ventured, in some excitement. 
 A hyphened name she conceived to be highly aristocratic. 
 
 " Er oh no, quite simple," said the stranger, and Miss 
 Spice knew by the way in which he said it that this was 
 a credit to him. " Jellybond was my mother's name. 
 Tinney my father's. My mother brought the blood ; 
 birth and beauty were hers. My father well, I always 
 say of my father he was Tinney by name and Tinney by 
 er banking account." 
 
 Miss Spice uttered a little exclamation, so surprising 
 to her was this conclusion. 
 
 He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, and 
 smiled complacently. 
 
 " I always put the saying so," he explained. " It has, 
 you see, in that form the charm of the unexpected. You 
 should always avoid the obvious." 
 
 " Should I r said Miss Spice. 
 
 " We should," he corrected. 
 
 " Oh, indeed," said Miss Spice. 
 
 Then there was another pause. 
 
 " I am not always called Tinney, however/' the stran- 
 ger recommenced. " I am known elsewhere by another 
 designation " 
 
 "A title ?" Miss Spice gasped. 
 
 " Well, er really you quite embarrass me." His 
 smile spoke volumes. " But I cannot explain " He 
 broke off. " Suffice it for you and me that for the pres- 
 ent I prefer to be called plain ' Mister ' ' Mister Jelly- 
 bond. ' For convenience I sometimes drop the ' Tinney. ' " 
 
 " Noble, sir, I'm sure," Miss Spice exclaimed, not in the 
 least knowing what she meant ; and she ever afterwards 
 averred that the words were forced from her. 
 
 28
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 The distinguished-looking stranger pressed his hand 
 out flat over his heart, and focussed his eyes afar off. 
 Then he sighed and muttered " Strange !" 
 
 " I beg your pardon ?" said Miss Spice. 
 
 " I was just thinking/' he rejoined, with another deep 
 .sigh. " I was wondering. Is it not singular that I 
 should be talking to you thus ? confiding in you ? How 
 wonderful is the law of affinity ! Half an hour ago we 
 had not met, and now you know my secret." 
 
 " Sir/' said Miss Spice, " your secret is safe in my keep- 
 ing." 
 
 " Safe indeed !" he ejaculated. 
 
 After they had walked on together in silence for a lit- 
 tle, he remarked : 
 
 " I am staying at present at the village inn in some 
 discomfort. Do you happen to know of a house to be let 
 in the neighborhood, if I may ask? a suitable resi- 
 dence ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do," said Miss Spice " at least I don't 
 know I mean I know of a house, but whether it would 
 be suitable or not " 
 
 " Oh, as to that, of course, I must myself decide," the 
 stranger concluded, genially. " Where is the house, and 
 to whom may it belong ? Is it to be let or sold ?" 
 
 " This house is called a ' cottage ' the ' Swiss Cot- 
 tage ' although it is quite a fine residence," Miss Spice 
 responded with a readiness that surprised her. " It is 
 hidden among the fir-trees on the hill-side at the farther 
 end of the village the farther end from my end. My 
 er house is the Cross Roads Cottage. All the houses 
 here that are not halls, courts, or castles, are cottages. 
 We have no villas." 
 
 "'Oh, indeed," said Mr. Jellybond. " Now that is sig- 
 nificant." 
 
 * Yes," said Miss Spice, much puzzled, for she could 
 not conceive what was signified. 
 
 29
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 "And this Swiss Cottage belongs to whom ?" said Mr. 
 Jellybond. 
 
 " Oh yes, I forgot," Miss Spice hastened to add. " It be- 
 belongs to Squire Normanton, of Normanton Hall, and is 
 to be let or sold." 
 
 Mr Jellybond's face was impassive. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, " you know this Squire Norman- 
 ton?" 
 
 " Well,, yes," Miss Spice replied, with some little hesi- 
 tation ; " yes, I do," she added, firmly, as if she had just 
 made up her mind. 
 
 "I asked," said the stranger, " because I should want an 
 introduction ; an introduction simplifies things so much 
 don't you think so? Not a formal introduction, you 
 know, just a card, and written on it in your own hand 
 of course it must be in your own hand ' To introduce 
 Mr. Jellybond.' But I hardly like to trouble you." 
 
 " No trouble, I'm sure," said Miss Spice in great con- 
 fusion. " But" 
 
 She had never been asked to do such a thing before, 
 and she had no visiting-cards. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond interrupted with a dignified gesture. 
 
 " I should, of course, myself explain the extent of our 
 acquaintance," he said, " when the ice is broken. If you 
 would be so sweet as to break the ice 1" 
 
 " Oh, certainly of course," twittered Miss Spice. 
 " But I was going to say not the squire. He " she 
 tittered a little and blushed " he never seems to see that 
 I have grown up. He treats me like a little girl. I would 
 rather, if you don't mind, the vicar, Mr. Worringham 
 the Honorable. If you knew him he would introduce 
 evervbody." 
 
 "Ah, thank you," said Mr. Jellybond. " But first in 
 the village I will pay my respects to yourself, dear lady, 
 at er the Cross Roads Cottage, if I may. Shall we 
 say to-morrow morning ?" 
 
 3
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Delighted !" was all Miss Spice could articulate. 
 
 " I shall look forward to it," Mr. Jellybond said, im- 
 pressively. " I shall look forward to discussing many 
 things with you, including the Swiss Cottage, and er 
 an introduction. What a sweet spot this is ! I can 
 scarcely believe that I have at last reached such a peace- 
 ful haven, after all I have gone through ; but it is a long 
 lane, my dear young lady, that er keeps on turning." 
 
 But they were just entering the village, and on a sud- 
 den Miss Spice found herself all in a twitter of embarrass- 
 ment because she did not know how she was to do such a 
 common thing as to get herself into " the shop " before 
 the distinguished-looking stranger. If only the church 
 had been open she would have entered and breathed a 
 prayer ; but the church never was open except for regu- 
 lar services. It was most provoking. Miss Spice cast 
 about in her mind for something else of an elevated nat- 
 ure that she might mention as an excuse. A visit to a 
 sick person would have done admirably, but, alas ! there 
 was no sick person in the village that she knew of and 
 here they were close to " the shop." 
 
 " This is the village of Danehurst, sir," she exclaimed, 
 desperately. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " now I know where I am." He sur- 
 veyed the place. "A delicious spot !" was his verdict. 
 "And this is the principal emporium, I suppose ?" he add- 
 ed, indicating " the shop " in his grand way. " Do you 
 do your shopping here ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Spice, and again it seemed to her that 
 the words were forced from her, so that she assured her- 
 self it was fate. " That reminds me ; I have an order 
 to give." 
 
 "Ah ! Eve on household cares intent," said Mr. Jelly- 
 bond. " Well, good-bye, my dear young lady, and many 
 thanks for your kind guidance. We shall meet again 
 if all goes well if not here, then in the far beyond." 
 
 3 1
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He raised his. hat high, and passed on up the street, 
 and again Miss Spice observed the way his coat-tails 
 waggled so expressively you could see at a glance he 
 was somebody. She cast but one long, yearning look 
 after him, and then she minuetted into "the shop," and 
 would have sunk down into a chair, only that the 
 chairs were so high she had rather to rise than to sink 
 in order to reach the seat. Having done so, she sat 
 with her feet dangling at some little distance from the 
 floor, and tried to collect her thoughts ; but so over- 
 come was she with consciousness of the occasion, of 
 fate of everything that when the shopman came to 
 serve her she could hardly articulate, " Two fresh eggs, 
 if you please, and a slice of ham." 
 
 32
 
 jvr 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 [TSS KINGCONSTANCE left her sister-in-law 
 alone with Mr. Worringham, and sauntered up 
 to her own room. The weather was clearing ; 
 she thought she would dress and go out. She 
 put her hand on the bell to ring for her maid, then 
 changed her mind. Why disturb the woman? Why 
 did she keep a maid at all ? It would be much better 
 for her to do everything for herself. 
 
 She began to pull things out of her wardrobe. A 
 cloak ? No, she hated cloaks. The cloak was tossed 
 aside. A blue ulster? That was dowdy, and why 
 should she be dowdy ? The ulster followed the cloak. 
 A buff jacket? That was not so bad. She put it on, 
 tied some white tulle round her neck, and completed the 
 costume with new gloves and a Paris hat. Then she 
 looked at herself in a mirror critically. She was cer- 
 tain! y very well dressed, but she was not satisfied. 
 
 " Could anything be more ridiculous ?" she said to her- 
 self, contemptuously, holding up her skirt so as to dis- 
 play her silk petticoat and French boots. " Could any- 
 thing be more ridiculous than such a costume for these 
 country roads ?" 
 
 She went to the window, opened it, and looked out. 
 Everything smelled fresh and sweet after the rain, and 
 the air was reviving, but the prospect did not enliven 
 her. Below there was nothing to be seen but the drive, 
 and a monotonous, park-like expanse of green grass, 
 garnished with great bare trees ; while, above, the sombre 
 c 33
 
 B A B S THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 masses of heavy gray clouds, luridly tinged at the edges 
 with flecks of flame-color from the sunset, oppressed her, 
 like things of ominous import. 
 
 Where should she go ? Walking for walking's sake 
 is poor amusement ; it is as insipid as eating without 
 appetite. Should she go and see some one ? Fanny 
 Sturdy, Florence Japp, Ally Spice, Mrs. Normanton, 
 Lady May ? No, thank you. Bores, all ; not one of 
 them could take her out of herself. There was no one 
 she cared to see, nowhere she wanted to go, and she had 
 nothing to do. 
 
 She took a few irresolute steps about the room, then 
 rang the bell imperatively. Her maid came hurrying up. 
 
 " Order the horses," she said, " and then come and help 
 me into my habit. It's just the day for a ride." 
 
 When she went down - stairs, an obsequious servant 
 opened the hall door for her. The horses were waiting. 
 She stood a moment on the steps, looking about her, 
 then mounted, and cantered down the drive, followed by 
 her groom. The old trees showered drops upon her, the 
 fresh air fanned her face, her horse stepped gayly ; but 
 she herself remained unexhilarated, her face colorless 
 and impassive, her whole attitude that of one engaged 
 in an uncongenial pursuit. The purposelessness of the 
 ride affected her, as the purposelessness of the contem- 
 plated walk had done ; and it was not long before she 
 turned her horse round with an irritable jerk and can- 
 tered home. 
 
 " I cannot stand the damp," she said to her groom, as 
 he helped her to dismount, feeling that she must excuse 
 her sudden change of mind. 
 
 The same servant opened the door for her, and as she 
 passed in she had an uncomfortable impression that he 
 exchanged meaning glances with another footman who 
 was loitering in the hall. Doubtless they had noticed her 
 indecision and thought it irrational. She stopped, 
 
 34
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 seized with an undignified desire to account to them also 
 for her changeableness ; but she restrained herself. 
 Before she reached her room, however, her morbid self- 
 consciousness was again tormenting her this time with 
 the dread of being discussed; and she looked into the 
 hall from the gallery, expecting to see the servants talk- 
 ing together. But one of them had disappeared and the 
 other was tranquilly reading a newspaper. 
 
 As her maid helped her to change her habit, Miss King- 
 constance was careful to explain that she had returned 
 so soon because of the damp, which affected "her unpleas- 
 antly. 
 
 Soon after the woman had gone, Miss Kingconstance 
 heard voices outside in the corridor. Tw r o maids had met 
 there, and stood chatting a moment. Involuntarily 
 Miss Kingconstance listened. 
 
 " Is your name Susannah May ?" one said. 
 
 " Yes. Have you more than one name ?" 
 
 " No, nothing but Bertha." 
 
 " Well, I don't know as it isn't enough. Mrs. King- 
 constance has got four names, and they call her Belle, 
 so what do they all amount to ? Miss Kingconstance's 
 name is pretty Lorraine." 
 
 " So is Miss Kingconstance, don't you think ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, she is pretty and yet not pretty exactly ; 
 more elegant. And, my 1 can't she dress ! Everything 
 she gets becomes her, and it's all good." 
 
 " I should think so ! She spends enough on her dress 
 to keep a whole family." 
 
 " Oh, my ! it's good to be her 1 How do you like my 
 hair like this ?" 
 
 " I think it suits you. It's your day out to-morrow, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 " Yes, and I sha'n't sleep all night for thinking about 
 it. I'm going to see mother." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance stood in the middle of the room, 
 
 35
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 reflecting, long after the maids had gone their several 
 ways. She saw herself in a mirror " pretty/' " ele- 
 gant " yes, but what was the use of being so ? Those 
 little servants were better off than she was ; they had 
 something to look forward to. 
 
 When Babs returned that evening from the raid upon 
 the violets, the first person she encountered was her aunt 
 Lorraine, loitering in a corridor up-stairs, as if she were 
 waiting for her. Babs came up, walking nonchalantly 
 in her muddy, wet clothes, humming an air, and swinging 
 her arm in time to it, as if she were conducting a band. 
 She was always energetic, always in a whirl, always 
 putting passionate interest into something, but, unfort- 
 unately, not often twice into the same thing. She was 
 inconsequent ; she lacked continu^, and did not culti- 
 vate it ; she followed one pursuit after another, and drop- 
 ped each in turn with casual unconcern. The days of 
 her life were like the pages of a book which are read once 
 with interest, then turned, and never looked at again. 
 She owed her nickname to her aunt Lorraine, who used 
 to call to her "Babsl Babs the Impossible!" when she 
 caught her doing anything hoydenish. Then other peo- 
 ple had begun to call her " Babs" also, until by degrees 
 everybody had adopted the name, as odd names are 
 often adopted, not for their aptness, but for their incon- 
 gruity, and also, in the case of Babs, to prevent confu- 
 sion, since aunt and niece were both Lorraine. 
 
 " Oh, Babs !" Miss Kingconstance exclaimed. " Look 
 at you ! Another dress ruined ! What excuse can you 
 make for yourself, coming home in such a state ?" 
 
 " I should say I was picturesque," said Babs, setting 
 her arms akimbo and surveying herself in a mirror. 
 
 " I don't wonder your mother is worried about you," 
 Miss Kingconstance pursued, "and I hope she'll carry 
 out her intention." 
 
 36
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " What intention, if you please ?" said Babs, defiantly. 
 
 " Her intention to be firm with you." 
 
 " Who put that into her head ?" Babs asked. 
 
 " Mr. Worringham, my dear. Your mother consulted 
 him this afternoon, and he advised her to be firm." 
 
 " Oh !" said Babs. " So mamma consulted Mr. Wor- 
 ringham about me, and he advised her to be firm ? How 
 is she going to be firm ?" 
 
 " Well, when she says you are to do a thing, she's go- 
 ing to make you do it ; and when she says that you are 
 not to do a thing, she's going to see that you don't do it." 
 
 * Oh, indeed !" said Babs. " She's quite made up her 
 mind, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes, quite." 
 
 Babs reflected for a moment, then she whirled round. 
 
 " I'd better go and have it out with her at once!" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 A Oh, Babs !" Miss Kingconstance began, in a tone of 
 remonstrance; but Babs was already half-way down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," she called back. " I sha'n't give 
 you away." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance had gone to get ready for dinner. 
 She was in her dressing-room, sitting in a comfortable 
 chair in front of a duchesse dressing-table, having her 
 beautiful black hair arranged by her maid. She sat 
 with her white hands folded and a complacent smile on 
 her face, called forth by the comel3 T reflection of her- 
 self in the long mirror. Her peignoir of pale purple silk 
 suited her to perfection, and she had just been struck by 
 the fact, and was enjoying it, when Babs, all bedraggled 
 and dirty, burst in upon her with a tragic face the 
 which, when Mrs. Kingconstance saw it reflected in the 
 mirror, banished her own complacent smile and caused 
 her to look round apprehensively. 
 
 37
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " What is the matter, Babs ?" she cried. " What has 
 happened ?" 
 
 " Send Norton away. I want to speak to you alone/' 
 Babs answered, imperatively. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance nodded to the maid, who with- 
 drew. 
 
 " Now, mother," said Babs, taking up her position be- 
 side the dressing-table so as to face her mother " now, 
 mother, what's the meaning of this nonsense ?" 
 
 " My dear child, what nonsense ?" Mrs. Kingconstance 
 demanded. 
 
 " This nonsense about being firm with me. I hear 
 that you have publicty announced your intention of be- 
 ing firm with me. What do you mean by it ?" 
 
 " Babs, is that the way to speak to your mother ?" 
 Mrs. Kingconstance remonstrated, plaintively. 
 
 " Well, mother, I want to know," Babs answered, in the 
 tone of one who concedes a point. " Will you be so good 
 as to explain ? I don't understand your proceeding this 
 afternoon at all. You call in an outsider, and then you 
 make complaints about me. How would you like it if I 
 did such a thing ? It's not loyal." 
 
 " My dear child, I make complaints ?" 
 
 " W 7 hat do you call it, then ? Did you praise me ?" 
 Mrs. Kingconstance looked uncomfortable. " You know 
 vou did not," Babs pursued ; " you sent for old Worring- 
 ham" 
 
 " My dear child, Mr. Worringham." 
 
 " Well, never mind," said Babs, waiving that point 
 also, as too trivial to dispute. " Mr. Worringham, if 
 you like, or the Honorable and Reverend Wilfred Wynd- 
 ham Worringham, if you prefer it. That does not alter 
 the matter. You sent for him and you abused me. Now, 
 I ask you, was that a nice thing to do ?" 
 
 " Well, I ask you, Babs," said Mrs. Kingconstance, 
 weakly descending to argument, " is it nice of you to be 
 
 38
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 so difficult ? You give me more trouble than any one or 
 anything else in the world. What am I to do with you ? 
 Look at the state you are in now ! Julia came in not 
 long ago, neat and nice as possible, and she said she had 
 been out with you this afternoon gathering violets. If 
 she could keep herself clean, why can't you ?" 
 
 " What did she do with the violets, by-the-way," said 
 Babs. 
 
 " She put them on my table in a basket, beautifully ar- 
 ranged. She knows how I appreciate such little atten- 
 tions from my children." 
 
 " She does 1" said Babs, and burst out laughing irrele- 
 vantly. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance stared at her. 
 
 " Babs," she said, solemnly, " if you don't mind, I'm 
 afraid you'll end like your poor, dear aunt." 
 
 " She hasn't ended yet/' said Babs ; " but that's not 
 the point neither are the violets. I'm glad you liked 
 them, though. I came to remonstrate with you for dis- 
 cussing our private family affairs with strangers." 
 
 " Mr. Worringham is not a stranger, and he is a cler- 
 gyman," Mrs. Kingconstance put in. 
 
 " It doesn't matter," said Babs. " He's no relation of 
 ours, and I object to be discussed with him. If you think 
 you ought to be firmer with me, do for goodness sake be 
 firmer ; but don't announce your intention to the whole 
 neighborhood. If parents run up a flag and fire a gun 
 every time they have difficulties to settle with their chil- 
 dren, there'll be a Chinese New Year in the neighborhood 
 every day, and I shall be blamed for it. And as to be-, 
 ing firm with me 1 You can't be firm with me, you know. 
 It's perfectly absurd to think of such a thing. I'm here 
 to have a good time, and you can't prevent me. You 
 know you can't you know you can't," she reiterated, 
 passionately. 
 
 " My dear child, I don't want to prevent you. The 
 
 39
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 better time you have the better I shall be pleased, 
 only" 
 
 "Ah 1 now you speak in a motherly way/' said Babs ; 
 " but don't go and spoil it all with your ' only.' " 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance looked about her helplessly. 
 
 " I shall be late for dinner !" she ejaculated. 
 
 " Well, I won't detain you a moment longer if you'll 
 promise me " 
 
 " Promise what ?" Mrs. Kingconstance interjected, ap- 
 prehensively. 
 
 " Promise not to go consulting people about me again. 
 I won't have it." 
 
 " Babs," said Mrs. Kingconstance, with dignity, " you 
 must not speak to your mother like that." 
 
 " Well, I won't have it," Babs repeated, obstinately. 
 
 " How are you going to prevent it ?" her mother asked, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 " If you go and consult people about me and make 
 complaints of me, I shall do the same about you, and 
 then you'll just see how you like it yourself." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was silenced. 
 
 " Will you promise ?" Babs asked. 
 
 " Oh, Babs !" Mrs. Kingconstance complained, " you 
 ought to consider your mother more, I think. You 
 ought to try to be more of a comfort to me." 
 
 "A comfort to you ! Why, what comfort ^.re you to 
 me ?" said Babs. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance sighed. 
 
 " I feel quite upset," she said. 
 
 " So do I," said Babs. " I shall be obliged to go to my 
 own room directly to recover. I shall stay there the 
 whole evening. I can't eat anything." 
 
 " But, my dear child, you must have something to 
 eat." 
 
 " No, I shall not," said Babs. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance reflected. 
 
 40
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Look here, Babs," she said, at last, " will you prom- 
 ise to be a good girl, and not do impossible things ?" 
 
 " That's just what I'm asking you," said Babs, viva- 
 ciously. " If you will promise not to complain of me 
 again, and not to talk ridiculous nonsense about being 
 firm, Til see what I can do. You're a nice mamma, and 
 a pretty mamma, and a young mamma ; why aren't 
 you a kind, good mamma ?" 
 
 " Oh, Babs !" said Mrs. Kingconstance, glancing at 
 herself in the mirror and melting into a smile. " You 
 can't call me unkind \" 
 
 " Well, was it kind of you to complain of me ?" 
 
 " I meant it for the best, but perhaps it was not very 
 wise," Mrs. Kingconstance weakly conceded. 
 
 " That's just it ; it wasn't at all wise," said Babs ; 
 " so promise not to do it again." She took up her moth- 
 er's hair in both hands and bathed her face in it. " What 
 beautiful hair ! And it does smell so sweet ! Will you 
 promise ?" 
 
 " Dear child, of course. Look at the clock, Babs. 
 Everything will be spoiled." 
 
 " No fear," said Babs. " Don't forget you've prom- 
 ised. Now I'm off. Norton, you can come back." 
 
 " Babs ! Babs ! You'll come down and have some- 
 thing to eat ?" Mrs. Kingconstance called, after all. 
 
 " I shall lie down, and not have anything to eat," Babs 
 asseverated. 
 
 On the way up-stairs she met her brother coming 
 down dressed. 
 
 " Oh, Babs !" he exclaimed. " Not dressed yet ? You'll 
 be late. What have you been doing ?" 
 
 * Reasoning with mamma. It seems she's got some 
 tick in her head about being firm with me. If she began 
 to be firm with me, what would become of us ?" 
 
 " We shouldn't have our own way in anything !" he 
 ejaculated. 
 
 41
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " No. That's just it. And she'd be laying up much 
 misery for herself too. She couldn't be firm. It isn't 
 in her. A duck might as well determine to cackle, or a 
 hen to quack." 
 
 " Did you tell her so ?" 
 
 " No. I didn't think of it at the moment. Besides, 1 
 didn't tackle her so much on that score. What vexed 
 me most was her sending for Mr. Worringham to con- 
 sult him about me." 
 
 "Did she do that?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I made her promise she'd never do such a 
 thing again. We won't be given away like that to out- 
 siders, Cute." 
 
 " I should think not, indeed 1 But, I say, Babs, she 
 won't keep her word." 
 
 " She will while she remembers." 
 
 * But when she forgets ?" 
 
 " We'll just have to pull her up again." 
 
 " Julia's been invited to dinner to-night," he informed 
 her, * so we'll have the school-room to ourselves." 
 
 " We've much to be thankful for !" Babs ejaculated 
 " at least, you have. I'm not coming down." 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " Business." 
 
 He grinned intelligently and ran on. 
 
 42
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 CADENHOUSE had been away in the East for 
 a while, and had just returned. He went with- 
 out leave-taking none knew for how long 
 and came again without warning. In his ab- 
 sence all had been ordered in his household and on his 
 property as though he had gone only for the day. The 
 tower alone had been close shut and locked and barred, 
 and at night there had been darkness where the wonder- 
 ful opaline light was wont to shine from the topmost 
 stage and far out to sea when Cadenhouse was at home. 
 A curious thing happened to him the first night he 
 spent in the tower on his return. He was sitting there 
 alone, not in the topmost story, but in the lower stage. 
 It had been pouring hard all day, but the night had 
 cleared, the crescent moon shone in a cobalt sky, and a 
 few big stars burned brightly. Cadenhouse looked up 
 at the quiet stars. He had a book on his knee, but his 
 thoughts were wandering. He felt those worlds a weary 
 way off just then. There were times when they seemed 
 quite close, but that night he was more in touch with our 
 planet. His earthly ears were open to earthlj 7 matters, 
 strive as he would to close them. He heard the incessant 
 murmur of the forest below, sea -like, and the separate 
 sighing of the great trees when the fitful gusts disturbed 
 them. An owl hooted, a startled bird twittered its re- 
 monstrances, in the distance a cock crowed at intervals, 
 and a fox barked on a sudden near at hand. They were 
 all old, accustomed sounds he had heard them again 
 
 43
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and again yet just for that very reason, and because of 
 other days, they came to him with the significance of 
 manifold association, and made him feel for the moment 
 his own aloofness. He glanced at his book, and read : 
 " For the very fact of bliss implies duality." And he 
 was alone. He entertained this sensation for a moment, 
 then thrust it aside, and read again : "All things are 
 made of the Divine Substance, which is the Divine Idea, 
 and matter is spirit made manifest by motion." As he 
 finished the phrase he found himself thinking of an odd 
 episode in his life a night visit he had paid to a place 
 of entertainment in London. It had happened years be- 
 fore, and he had scarcely thought of the scene since, but 
 the recollection of it recurred to him now, suddenly, and 
 with singular vividness. He tried to banish it, but it 
 persisted. He saw it as a scene that is being enacted., 
 and it was as if he were both looking on and taking part 
 in it. " How is this ?" he wondered. " Where am I ?" 
 The recollection went out like a flash. Cadenhouse re- 
 turned to his book ; but the same thing happened again. 
 It was a note-book he had been studying, full of miscel- 
 laneous jottings. This time his eye lighted on the 
 words : " The survival for an indefinite period of the 
 images of events occurring on the earth in the astral 
 light, or memory of the planet, called the anima mundi, 
 which images can be evoked and beheld." He tried to 
 reflect upon this, but found himself thinking instead of 
 a tall, stout, bearded man in a linen jacket. Where had 
 he seen that man ? His face was familiar. However, 
 what was the use of asking ? He wanted to read, not 
 to rake up old associations. But of course he remem- 
 bered. There was the whole scene lights flaring on a 
 crowd of men and women, and, above all, conspicuous, 
 the tall, stout, bearded man. 
 
 Cadenhouse made a last desperate effort to concentrate 
 his attention upon his book. In vain. The tall, stout 
 
 44
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 man appeared upon every page, until at last, being fain 
 to comprehend, Cadenhouse resigned himself, set his 
 mortal eyes on the night sky, and released his spirit. 
 In a moment the whole episode, with the tall, stout man 
 for its centre, reconstructed itself, and Cadenhouse was 
 living it over again. 
 
 He had been at his club in London one night with an- 
 other young fellow, Jeffrey Wylde, of Wyldeholme, a 
 neighboring land-owner who had also inherited his prop- 
 erty early. They were both of them in the first flush of 
 possession and of early manhood, and the big cities 
 claimed them, luring them to enlightenment or to de- 
 struction, as the case might be. They had known each 
 other all their lives. Similar interests and near neigh- 
 borhood had made a certain intimacy habitual, and they 
 had the kind of liking for each other that comes of the 
 position ; but they were too dissimilar to allow of their 
 being sympathetic friends. Just at that time Jeffrey 
 Wylde was for doing, while Cadenhouse was for seeing 
 everything. 
 
 They had met by chance and dined together, and it 
 had become a question of what to do next. 
 
 " Come and see Binks," said Jeffrey. 
 
 " Who is Binks ?" Cadenhouse asked. 
 
 " Oh, a droll chap who has made a fortune by mixing 
 drinks. He swears that the drinks are original concoc- 
 tions of his own, not to be had elsewhere. The whole 
 show consists in seeing him mix the drinks and listen- 
 ing to his ' patter/ He tosses the drinks from one glass 
 to another over his head without spilling a drop, and 
 talks all the time. Lots of fellows go to draw him, but 
 they don't get much small change out of old Binks. 
 He's well worth seeing. Will you come ?" 
 
 Cadenhouse assented. 
 
 They sauntered out into the street in the leisurely way 
 men move when it is the habit of their lives to have time 
 
 45
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and money always at their disposal. People glancing 
 at them saw two ordinarj' good-looking young English- 
 men of the upper class, with nothing exceptional discern- 
 ible about either of them. Jeffrey Wylde was the finer 
 animal of the two somewhat short, but clear of skin and 
 bright of eye, an attractive specimen of youth and health 
 and strength ; but Cadenhouse was the more refined, 
 the more distinguished-looking. You would have mis- 
 taken Wykle for an affluent, intelligent young military 
 man, but you would have suspected that Cadenhouse 
 was more than that a somebody capable of something. 
 It was the height of the summer season, and the streets 
 were crammed. The young men got into a hansom, 
 and sat looking out at the throng, Jeffrey just seeing 
 the surface with interest, Cadenhouse seeing beneath and 
 suffering. That was rather the trend of his nature; the 
 sorrow was more patent to him than the joy of life. A 
 beautiful, gentle-looking girl passed in a carriage, sit- 
 ting beside a hard, cruel, worldly faced mother. Jeffrey 
 saw only the beauty of the girl, which pleased him; 
 Cadenhouse saw the mother also, and was filled with 
 compassion. 
 
 They pulled up in a glare of light outside a severely 
 simple building, somewhat ecclesiastical in design, which 
 stood in a conspicuous position at the corner of two mean 
 streets. Cornermen hung about outside, waiting hun- 
 grily for something to turn up a job that meant 
 money, or a chance tip that meant drink, that meant 
 suspension of the consciousness of misery. The traffic 
 swirled about the corner. On the pavement people jos- 
 tled each other, dodged each otherto avoid collisions, hur- 
 ried, scurried gentlemen in evening-dress, with ladies 
 on their arms, in satin shoes and silken wraps, looking 
 for their carriages and cabs ; working women with ba- 
 bies and baskets ; boys fighting, playing, disputing, 
 getting in everybody's way ; artisans an endless 
 
 46
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 stream, coming from four different directions, and meet- 
 ing and blocking each other's passage at the corner, 
 where the policeman stood, while in the roadway, all in 
 a golden haze, was a block of vehicles lumbering om- 
 nibuses, cabs and carts, dainty broughams, landaus, and 
 victorias with suffering horses whipped forward, jerked 
 back, pulled this way and that sinless, silent victims of 
 man's brutality and man's mistakes. The bustle, the 
 racket, the confusion, the smell of horses, human beings, 
 meat, fish, fruit, flowers, stale vegetables, and tobacco, 
 the moving lights and shadows, the constant collisions, 
 kept every sense strained to distraction. There was no 
 more visible sign of law in that chaos than there is in 
 the lives of men, and it was wonderful to think that there 
 was order in it nevertheless, the order educed from every 
 one's intention, by which all were being extricated from 
 the mass, and sent their several ways without intermis- 
 sion, and, for the most part, in safety. 
 
 Jeffrey led the way, pushing forward across the pave- 
 ment into the building. They passed from an ante-room 
 hung with crimson, and embellished with huge palms 
 and plaster statues, into a large hall supported by pillars, 
 and crowded with people sitting about small tables. The 
 first whiff of hot air in the place, reeking with spirits and 
 tobacco, was overpowering. At the far end of the hall 
 an arrangement of lights high up on the wall flashed 
 forth at intervals the legend, in different colors each 
 time: 
 
 * BINKS'S PRISMATIC SOUL-REVIVERS ! 
 
 "lj EACH." 
 
 Beneath this shining device there was a solid platform, 
 and on the platform was a counter. Behind it stood a 
 tall, stout, bearded man, with a burnished goblet in either 
 hand. From the goblets there issued upward a luminous 
 liquid arc, tinted like a rainbow. 
 
 47
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " That's Binks/' said Jeffrey. " Just watch him. He's 
 a wonderful fellow. He's got the whole concern together 
 built the place (he was his own architect), and runs it 
 himself. When he started, his whole stock-in-trade was 
 that knack of mixing drinks. He began as a barman, 
 and men used to order drinks just to see him mix them. 
 They do that kind of thing in America, I believe, but 
 here it was a novelty, and naturally fellows took to tip- 
 ping him ; and being a man of marked character, with 
 an object in view, he hoarded all he got. He was deter- 
 mined to set up for himself, and he's done it." 
 
 They made their way among the little tables where 
 men and women, some of them extremely well dressed, 
 were sitting with drinks before them. Business was just 
 at its height, and Mr. Binks was working off orders with 
 the rapidity and precision of a machine. They secured 
 a table quite close to the platform, and sat down. All 
 about them, at the other tables, were young men in even- 
 ing-dress a whole school of them sitting under Binks as 
 an instructor, waiting to pick up crumbs of wit, slang, 
 and catch-words with which to eke out their own scanty 
 supply. Not that they were extravagant in these things; 
 one word among them eccentrically applied served the 
 whole set for a season. Just at that time everything 
 was " weird." There were no ladies at those tables. Ca- 
 denhouse commented on the fact, and asked if betting 
 took the place of beauty. 
 
 " No," said Jeffrey ; " Binks won't have either here. 
 It's a fad of his. He says he'll have no corruption of 
 youth in his establishment. Parents and guardians 
 may trust him." 
 
 * BINKS 'S PRISMATIC SOUL-REVIVERS ! 
 " Is EACH" 
 
 flashed red on the assembly while Jeffrey was speaking. 
 Waiters in white jackets dashed about incessantly, car- 
 
 48
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 rying trays. There were steps on either side of the plat- 
 form, up and down which they ran incessantly. Mr. 
 Binks, also in a white jacket, tossed the drinks without 
 intermission. Many of the people sat staring at him as 
 if fascinated. When the fluid ascended, shining irrides- 
 cent in the gaudy lights, their eyes followed the arc it 
 described with constant interest. They looked like wor- 
 shippers of light and liquid in the early stages of ecstacy. 
 
 Jeffrey ordered drinks. They were cool and delicious, 
 but of unsuspected potency. 
 
 Closing time was at hand. The people at the farther 
 end of the hall began to disperse, but the young men near 
 the platform sat on. Mr. Binks glanced at the clock, 
 and his efforts relaxed. All this time he had been too 
 busy to hold forth. 
 
 " Should think your arms ached, Binks," said one of 
 the youths. 
 
 " They would with your stamina, sir, but I've good 
 blood in me," was the rejoinder, rolled out in a large, 
 deep, precise way, as if the speaker were more accus- 
 tomed to pulpits than to gin-palaces. It was not a com- 
 mon voice, but a careful one, the voice of a man who had 
 conquered commonness by cultivation. 
 
 Cadenhouse looked at him with more interest after he 
 had spoken. A waiter came with an order. Binks 
 glanced again at the clock. 
 
 " Closing time, gentlemen," he gave out, impressively. 
 
 Then he handed the empty mugs he was holding in 
 his hands to an attendant acolyte, and sat down on a 
 large carved-oak chair that stood behind him. 
 
 " I say, just one more, Binks," pleaded a clear voice 
 from among the youths. 
 
 " Not another to-night, Sir Clarence," Binks replied. 
 
 " I know the police, and the police know me. I might 
 
 have the lights up all night ; they'll never come to see 
 
 if I am serving drinks after hours. I've made my money 
 
 D 49
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 by keeping the law, not by breaking it. I recommend 
 you to take note. Be what you're supposed to be it 
 doesn't matter what it is. If you're a publican, be a pub- 
 lican; if you're a gentleman, be a gentleman; and in 
 either case be honest and mind your own business. 
 Don't just call yourself what you want to appear to 
 be find out what's expected of you in that state of life, 
 and do it. Pretending's no good, and putting on the 
 manner to one person and dropping it to another if it's 
 only a servant is no good. You've got to be the thing 
 right through, if you mean to succeed. When you're a 
 gentleman, I say, be a gentleman ; raise your hat and 
 make your bow ladies first noblesse oblige and all the 
 rest of it. When you're a barman, be a barman ; slop 
 the beer about and slap the money down. " 
 
 He had risen and was holding forth with suitable ges- 
 ticulation, but stopped abruptly while in the act of em- 
 phasizing the last phrase with a sounding slap, and 
 stared intently at Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Struck all of a heap, Binks ?" a sallow youth asked, 
 in a jeering tone. 
 
 Binks slowly descended from the platform, and stood 
 with his back against it, facing the groups of young men. 
 They all turned to him, forming a semicircle round him. 
 
 " I'm struck by a likeness, sir," he said to Cadenhouse, 
 by way of apology for staring at him. " You and your 
 gentleman friend there both remind me of the dead and 
 gone of a hall in a hollow and a tower on a hill." 
 
 " Hullo ! old Binks is poetic !" said a shrill-voiced 
 youth. 
 
 " Shut up," a companion remonstrated, with a kick 
 under the table. He wanted to hear what w r as going on. 
 
 The gaudy device above flashed green. Sudden seri- 
 ousness settled on the group. Each man looked at his 
 neighbor, and saw a sunken face the color of death. The 
 muffled roar of the traffic without penetrated to their
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ears. It was like the sound of the sea continuous, in- 
 sistent the articulate murmur of eternity. The light 
 flashed white. The sea-like sound subsided to an under- 
 tone, and then went out ; and Cadenhouse heard only 
 the breeze among the branches playing a soft accompa- 
 niment to the mellow notes of a nightingale. Laying 
 hold of the idea, he was wrenched from his reverie, and 
 found himself sitting alone in his old gray tower, with 
 his eyes on the crescent moon. 

 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 CADENHOUSE'S first thought when he came to 
 himself was of the month that it was March, 
 and the nightingales had not arrived. Then 
 whence those mellow notes? The impression 
 of them was still distinct in his mind ; but it was as if 
 his ears shut when his eyes opened, so that the sound 
 was blotted out. And it was the same with the recollec- 
 tion of that bygone adventure. He tried hard to recall 
 what had happened after the light flashed green, but 
 his memory was a blank. He could not recollect how 
 the evening had ended, nor how he got himself away 
 from Mr. Binks and his party, nor what became of 
 Jeffrey. 
 
 As he was concentrating himself upon the effort to re- 
 call the scene, he became aware of an unusual commo- 
 tion in the tower. At first he thought it was a bird that 
 had got in and was fluttering on the staircase. Then he 
 thought it more like the rustle of drapery. Then all at 
 once it was a footstep a stealthy step, and hesitating. 
 Some one was in the tower, though how any one could 
 have got in was the puzzle, for Cadenhouse went to and 
 fro by an underground passage, so that the outer door 
 was seldom opened. 
 
 He took a lamp from the table and went to the head 
 of the stairs. 
 
 " Who's there ?" he asked, peering down into the dark 
 depth. 
 
 All was still for the moment. Then light footsteps 
 
 52
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 sounded on the steep stone staircase hesitating foot- 
 steps, as of one who comes up reluctantly. 
 
 " Who is there ?" Lord Cadenhouse repeated. 
 
 There was no answer ; but presently out of the dark- 
 ness, upraised to him, there emerged the face of an an- 
 gel. His heart stood still. It had always been his 
 dream to see just such a face ; and now, in the midnight, 
 in the stillness, there it was at last, with earnest eyes 
 upraised. 
 
 But the eyes were not saintly eyes at all, as he soon 
 discovered when they were more level with his own. He 
 thought them anything but saintly when he came to ex- 
 amine them, and the face expressed none of the serenity 
 ordinarily associated with the idea of angel visitants. On 
 the contrary, it was a hot, red, embarrassed face, half- 
 laughing, half-defiant the face of one caught in the 
 act. 
 
 " To what do I owe this honor, madam ?" Cadenhouse 
 was beginning, formally, when his visitor reached the lit- 
 tle stone stage which formed the landing where he stood. 
 But he backed into the room behind him as he spoke, 
 holding the lamp aloft to light the way, for there was 
 scarcely room for two people to stand together outside. 
 
 " To a variety of causes, sir," said Babs, recovering 
 herself. " Curiosity first, to be perfectly accurate. 1 
 just ached to know about that light of yours. 1 was 
 taken that way suddenly, and I should have burst if 1 
 hadn't come to see for myself." 
 
 They were in the lower stage of the tower, a large 
 apartment, full of a heterogeneous collection of things 
 books, art treasures, anatomical specimens, scientific in- 
 struments. 
 
 Babs glanced round with interest ; then she looked 
 up at Cadenhouse. Now that they were face to face she 
 was much the less abashed of the two, for Cadenhouse 
 was a grave, silent man, given to reading and reflection, 
 
 53
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and more apt to commune with saints and angels than 
 with specimens of the order to which Babs belonged. 
 
 " You're holding that lamp and looking at me as if you 
 had never seen me before," she said. " You'll not forget 
 me again, I expect." 
 
 * Have I seen you before ?" said Cadenhouse, puzzled. 
 
 " Why, yes. I've sat on your knee and pulled your 
 hair. You weren't so formal then. Don't you remem- 
 ber at Dane Court Babs ?" she said, impatiently. 
 
 " Oh, Babs !" he ejaculated, as if that explained 
 everything. " But how you've grown !" 
 
 " Now don't say that, like everybody else," said Babs, 
 pouting, " as if it were an unusual thing at my age. Put 
 down the lamp and be more original. Here am I giving 
 you a treat, and you don't seem to be enjoying it a bit." 
 
 " You say you came to see the light. Were you not 
 afraid that you might encounter me ?" 
 
 " Afraid ! What is there to be afraid of ? I just in- 
 cluded the possibility of your catching me as another 
 item to add to the excitement. I hoped to see you with- 
 out being seen. I did want to know so much what you 
 do up here ; but that pesky dark down-stairs upset my 
 plans. You heard me stumbling about, I suppose ?" 
 She smiled up in his face. "I was wondering how 
 you'd take it if you caught me," she said. " You look 
 almighty solemn. Are you very much put out ?" 
 
 " I am very much embarrassed," he assured her. " I 
 am not accustomed to visits from young ladies at this 
 time of night, and I do not know how to entertain 
 them." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not a young lady," said Babs. " Get rid of 
 that idea, and you'll find yourself more at ease. I'm not 
 even in long dresses, so don't be stiff and proud. It's 
 absurd, you know, with a little girl who was pulling your 
 hair not so very long ago." 
 
 " But you would not pull my hair now." 
 
 54, -
 
 "'YOU LOOK ALMIGHTY SOLEMN 1
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " No, nor sit on your knee ; but only because that 
 kind of thing wouldn't be a pleasure to me now." 
 
 " Do you do everything that is a pleasure, or that 
 promises to be a pleasure to you ?" 
 
 " Everything," said Babs. " But the things that were 
 a pleasure last year are not a pleasure this." 
 
 "Ah !" said Cadenhouse, " you have learned that les- 
 son, have you ? You perceive already the transient 
 nature of all earthly joys ?" 
 
 " No, that did not strike me, because it does not mat- 
 ter," said Babs. " What I do perceive is the endless va- 
 riety of earthly joys. I can see one of our earthly joys 
 succeeding another on into eternity, and I want to try 
 them all." 
 
 Cadenhouse put down the lamp and stood beside the 
 table, gazing at her in perplexity. 
 
 Babs ensconced herself in a narrow, high-backed, oak 
 arm-chair, and opened her cloak. It was a big black 
 cloak that entirely covered her. Underneath she wore 
 her ordinary evening-gown of soft white silk, made high 
 at the neck, as became her age. Her bright fair hair 
 shone against the dark wood, and her face settled into its 
 habitual expression of angelic sweetness. She was look- 
 ing at a picture on the wall opposite that interested her, 
 and Cadenhouse, seeing her so, marvelled that such an 
 audacious spirit could assume such an aspect of rever- 
 ent repose. He had run quickly over in his own mind 
 the various possibilities that this outrageous escapade 
 of hers portended, and had come to the conclusion 
 that it was his duty to read her such a lecture as 
 should effectually put a stop to this form of advent- 
 ure. 
 
 " Babs," he began. 
 
 " Cadenhouse," she rejoined, turning to him and smil- 
 ing bewitchingly. 
 
 Cadenhouse condoned the impertinence by responding 
 
 55
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 to the smile involuntarily. What he had intended to 
 say escaped him. He substituted something else. 
 
 " When your curiosity is quite satisfied/' he said, " I 
 will see you safe home." 
 
 " Then begin at once and show me everything," said 
 Babs. 
 
 " I can show you nothing you have not already seen/' 
 he answered, firmly. 
 
 " Oh, Cadenhouse," she pleaded, " you'll show me the 
 light ? You'll show me the upper stage ? You'll tell 
 me all you do ?" She jumped up and clasped his arm in 
 her eagerness. Cadenhouse looked down into the sweet 
 little face but stood firm. She threw her arms round 
 his neck, and drew his face down to hers and rubbed 
 her cheek against his cheek, coaxing like a little child. 
 " You must ! You must !" she said. 
 
 Cadenhouse gently disengaged himself. 
 
 " I am sorry," he answered her, stiffly " I am sorry 
 I cannot. Perhaps in the future " He took a turn 
 about the room. " But come, come," he said, at last. " I 
 will see you safe home." 
 
 Babs pouted. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " Is that to be the extent of 
 your hospitality ?" 
 
 " What else can I do for you ?" 
 
 " You can show me the tower, and tell me all you do," 
 she persisted. " Won't you ? Oh, do !" 
 
 Cadenhouse shook his head. 
 
 " I never allow any one to go farther than this stage," 
 he said. 
 
 " Oh, but do let me !" Babs pleaded. " This is all so 
 commonplace what anybody might have imagined. I 
 want to go all the way up. I tell you I ache to go. I 
 shall give you no peace till you let me." 
 
 " You would be dreadfully disappointed," he said. 
 
 " Well, let me be disappointed," she rejoined. 
 
 56
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 But Cadenhouse stood firm in spite of her pleading. 
 
 " Perhaps some day/' he said, at last. " Certainly 
 not to-night." 
 
 " I shall come when you are not here," Babs threat- 
 ened. 
 
 But he smiled at the threat, and then bethought him. 
 
 " By-the-way, how did you get in to-night ?" he asked. 
 
 Babs looked hard at him, but she would not say, and 
 he was obliged to let the question drop. 
 
 Then there was a pause. 
 
 " You said you had several reasons for coming," he 
 said, at last ; " but you have only given me one." 
 
 " My curiosity ?" she answered. " Well, another rea- 
 son was but never you mind. If you keep your thing- 
 umbobs to yourself I shall keep mine. I suppose you 
 didn't hear my music to-night ?" 
 
 " I fancied I heard the notes of a nightingale, but I 
 was dreaming." 
 
 Babs took a deep breath, then suddenly warbled a 
 stave. Cadenhouse listened and forgot to be stern any 
 more. 
 
 " You have a beautiful voice," he said. " But why 
 did you advertise your visit in that way, if you were 
 afraid of being caught ?" 
 
 " To find out if you were here, of course. I thought 
 if you heard me you would make some sign." 
 
 " But, my dear child, if I had heard you, that would 
 have been catching you all the same." 
 
 " I should have had time to get away," said Babs. 
 
 " Oh, you reckoned on that, did you ?" he said. 
 
 " Not on that altogether, either," said Babs. 
 
 " On what, then ?" 
 
 " On the assurance in myself that no harm could come 
 to me." 
 
 " What assurance ?" he asked. 
 
 " It came to me in this way," she rejoined. " I was 
 
 57
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 sitting on the side of my bed, feeling bored, and won- 
 dering what I should do. I consulted the portrait of an 
 ancestor of mine that hangs in my room ; and the an- 
 swer that came to me was : 
 
 " ' There is a power whose care 
 
 Traces thy way along the pathless coast, 
 The desert, and illimitable air. 
 Lone wand'ring, but not lost.' 
 
 I couldn't think what it meant at first. Then I saw your 
 light, and knew you were back ; and I was seized with 
 the impulse to come and explore. ' But if he should 
 catch me ?' I said to my ancestor, and again the answer 
 came to me in myself : 
 
 " 'There is a power whose care 
 
 Traces thy way along the pathless coast, 
 The desert, and illimitable air, 
 Lone wand'ring, but not lost.' 
 
 Then I understood it. I knew it would be all right 
 whether you caught me or not. And you see it is." 
 
 Cadenhouse was considering her very gravely. 
 
 " Do you often seek that sort of guidance ?" he asked. 
 
 "Always," she said. " It doesn't always come to me, 
 but when it does, it's sure to be right. And I act on it." 
 
 She looked at him, and, seeing him so solemn, laugh- 
 ed and sang irrelevantly : 
 
 "'Oh, I'm a young lady you can't control, 
 I haven't a soul ! I haven't a soul.' 
 
 You say I have a beautiful voice," she broke off. " I as- 
 sure you I have a beautiful appetite also. I've had noth- 
 ing to eat for hours." 
 
 " I suppose your mother sent you supperless to bed to 
 punish you for some outrageous act of insubordina- 
 tion ?" said Cadenhouse, dryly. 
 
 58
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " No, I went supperless to bed to punish my mother for 
 an outrageous act of insubordination. But I can't go 
 into that now I'm famishing. Do get me something 
 to eat !" 
 
 " But I haven't a scrap of anything here." 
 
 " How disappointing !" said Babs. " Can't you get 
 something ?" 
 
 Cadenhouse reflected. 
 
 " I don't want to encourage you/' he said, hesitating. 
 
 " That is to say, you want to discourage me," said 
 Babs." That isn't possible, so don't waste strength in 
 the effort. Cadenhouse, do get me something to eat !" 
 
 She was leaning back in the old oak chair again. He 
 looked at her. She was pale ; she had evidently fasted 
 too long. 
 
 " If I get you something to eat," he said, " will you 
 promise me to curb your curiosity for the future, and 
 never let it lead you into an escapade of this kind 
 again ?" 
 
 " I promise you solemnly," said Babs, and shut her 
 eyes. 
 
 Cadenhouse hurried out of the apartment, but locked 
 the door after him. 
 
 " Well, that is mean," said Babs. 
 
 She opened her eyes and looked about her, but she did 
 not move. She knew he would not have trusted her 
 there alone had there been anything interesting to be 
 rummaged out. 
 
 Cadenhouse was absent a considerable time. He re- 
 turned with a basketful of things. 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't much to offer you," he said. 
 
 " Oh !" said Babs, keenly disappointed. " I thought 
 you'd have such good things here. I often used to think 
 when I saw your light I can see it from my bedroom 
 window I used to wonder what you were eating, and 
 want some." 
 
 59
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Then you used always to think of me as eating here 
 alone ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Babs ; " I could think of nothing more 
 interesting. But I was younger then. It was before 
 you went away." 
 
 Cadenhouse had drawn up a table in front of her, and 
 was covering it with the contents of the basket. 
 
 " What do you give me the credit of doing now ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I've not had time to give you any credit yet," Babs 
 answered. " You've only just returned. But I should 
 certainly have expected you to be having some sort of a 
 good time." She surveyed the table. " You needn't 
 have apologized for the viands," she assured him. " Your 
 flesh-pots are ample. I'll begin with the prawns. Glory ! 
 what a delight it is to eat good things !" 
 
 " Babs, I am afraid your soul is not above " 
 
 " Victuals ?" she broke in. " I should think not ! You 
 can be cutting me some chicken and tongue." 
 
 He obeyed mechanically. 
 
 " I'll tell you what they say about me," she rattled on. 
 " They say I never know what I want, and I've got no 
 soul and all that sort of thing, don't you know." 
 
 * Indeed," Cadenhouse answered, absently helping 
 himself. 
 
 " I'm glad you're going to eat something," she inter- 
 jected. " It's more sociable. I shall be able to eat twice 
 as much now you've begun. Try the prawns. But I 
 was telling you it's astonishing what a lot I have to 
 tell you I believe I could go on talking to you all night. 
 I like to look at you, too. You are nice to look at ! Do 
 you think you would like me if I had a soul ? I suppose 
 I have no soul," she added, somewhat wistfully, " since 
 everybody says so, and what everybody says must be 
 true. But if it were a grudging deity made me, and 
 didn't dole me out a soul, it isn't my fault." 
 
 60
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I'm not blaming you/' said Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Well, that is unexpected !" she ejaculated. " But 
 perhaps I shouldn't mind not having a soul, in view of 
 the digestion I've got. I'm grateful for that. You 
 can't have everything, and I've heard that in this world 
 we should all do better if we prayed for sound digestions 
 and let our souls alone. What have you brought me to 
 drink? Nothing? Well!" 
 
 " What will you have ?" Cadenhouse asked, apologeti- 
 cally. " Milk ?" 
 
 Babs looked scornful. 
 
 " No, thank you," she said, with a grimace. " Give 
 me something fizzy." 
 
 He went to a cupboard and took out some lemons and 
 soda-water. 
 
 " I'll make you some lemonade," he said. 
 
 " Good !" she answered, to his relief. He was dreading 
 a demand for champagne. 
 
 " The next time I come " she was beginning, but he 
 interrupted her. 
 
 " You are not coming again," he said, decidedly. " Re- 
 member your promise." 
 
 " What promise ?" she asked, raising her innocent 
 eyebrows. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you have forgotten ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I've forgotten," she answered " if it were 
 anything you wrung from me in a cowardly way when 
 I was suffering under the cruel pressure of hunger." 
 
 " I thought better of you, Babs," he said, reproachfully. 
 
 " I've quite done now," she responded, cheerfully, get- 
 ting up and shaking the crumbs from her knees ; " and 
 I've had a real good time. You're going to see me home, 
 aren't you ?" 
 
 Cadenhouse was not quick of speech. His mind did 
 not skip readily from one subject to another, and as he 
 found no form in which to express what he had in it at 
 
 61
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 that moment, he held his peace. He proceeded to wrap 
 Babs up in her cloak, and as he buttoned it under her 
 upturned chin he was again struck by the peculiar 
 charm of her face, its angelic expression. Was it pos- 
 sible that appearance and character could be so much at 
 variance as hers apparently were ? 
 
 " I am afraid you will regret this good time when the 
 day of reckoning comes to-morrow," he said, grimly. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" she demanded. 
 
 " I mean that I must tell your mother of this visit." 
 
 " You won't do that ?" she exclaimed. 
 
 " I must," he answered, firmly. 
 
 " Well, that would be mean telling tales !" she cried. 
 "And it wouldn't be a bit of use, either I should swear 
 you were lying. I would, Cadenhouse I would, indeed." 
 
 " Don't talk in that reckless way," said Cadenhouse, 
 seriously. " You know you would not lie." 
 
 " Yes, I would," said Babs, positively. " But that 
 would not save mamma. Once you put that idea into 
 her head she'll never have another hour's quiet sleep at 
 night if I'm out of her sight. And she can't be watching 
 me always." 
 
 This consideration weighed with Cadenhouse. 
 
 " But look here, Babs," he said, very gravely. " You 
 have your own good name to consider. If you do things 
 like this, what will people think of you ?" 
 
 " What ! You think my good name will suffer be- 
 cause I came to see this place of yours and you the 
 most respectable gentleman in the neighborhood ?" 
 
 " But consider the time of night, my dear child." 
 
 " Oh, Cadenhouse, for shame !" said Babs. " You 
 don't mean to insinuate that a gentleman is less of a 
 gentleman at midnight than at mid-day ?" 
 
 " That is what is popularly supposed," said Caden- 
 house, grimly. 
 
 " Well, I can't help that," said Babs, drawing her 
 
 62
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 cloak round her and throwing the end of it over her 
 shoulder. " It isn't true in your case, and I mean to 
 regulate my life by what is true." 
 
 " I hope that is true, at all events/' Cadenhouse com- 
 mented. 
 
 " Oh yes, that's true," she rejoined. " But come to- 
 morrow, and let me tell you and you tell me." 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 " Oh, don't you know ? Well, never mind. Just drop 
 in casually for luncheon at half-past one. Mamma will 
 be delighted to see you. And I shall be able to ask you 
 heaps of things. You ought to come and inquire, in any 
 case; it's only polite. Why, I may be ill to-morrow 
 after all this fatigue." 
 
 Cadenhouse looked at her thoughtfully and sighed. 
 Babs was a fascinating imp, but quite impossible. 
 
 He took up a lamp and led the way down the stone 
 steps. Below, on the ground floor, they found them- 
 selves in what looked like the crypt of a church. There 
 were no windows, only slits in the solid masonry that let 
 in the cool air from outside. The groined roof was sup- 
 ported by short, massive pillars, which evidently bore a 
 great part of the weight of the whole edifice. There 
 were two heavy oak doors, iron clamped, one large, one 
 small. The larger door was the main entrance to the 
 tower ; the smaller one, which was low and narrow, 
 opened into the underground passage which Caden- 
 house used in order to go backward and forward to the 
 house. Both doors were securely fastened on the in- 
 side. The larger one had evidently not been opened for 
 a considerable time, to judge by the cobwebs which fes- 
 tooned it ; the key of the smaller one had not been out 
 of Cadenhouse's possession since his return. 
 
 " Babs," he said, sternly, " how did you get in ?" 
 
 " Cadenhouse," she answered, in imitation of his stern- 
 ness, raising her hand and pointing upward dramati- 
 
 63
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 cally as she spoke " Cadenhouse, what are you always 
 doing up there alone ?" 
 
 Cadenhouse closed his mouth obstinately. 
 
 It was a deadlock. There was nothing for it but to 
 tell, or to go unanswered. 
 
 Cadenhouse went unanswered. 
 
 64
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE next day, in the afternoon, Montacute and 
 Babs stood on the steps, seeing their mother off 
 for her afternoon drive. Julia accompanied 
 her that day. Babs had a switch in her hand. 
 Her eyes were unusually wide open, her cheeks were 
 somewhat pale. Her attention continually wandered to 
 something away in the distance. She had been in a 
 restless state of expectation all the morning, but now she 
 was reckless. Cadenhouse had not put in an appear- 
 ance. 
 
 The weather had cleared, but the ground was still 
 soaking from the heavy rains of the previous day. 
 
 " What are you children going to do ?" Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance asked, as she settled herself comfortably in the 
 carriage. 
 
 Montacute looked at Babs ; Babs looked up at the 
 sky. 
 
 " It would be a nice day for a walk," she said. 
 
 " Well, keep to the high-road, where the foot-paths 
 are dry, like good children," Mrs. Kingconstance said. 
 " Babs, you will only go where it's dry ?" she added, 
 anxiously. " Promise me." 
 
 But Babs ran lightly down the steps when her mother 
 began to make terms, and the next instant the horses 
 plunged so violently that Mrs. Kingconstance was jerk- 
 ed back on her cushions. 
 
 " Oh, don't wait if they're going to be restive," she 
 called to the coachman, nervously. 
 E 65
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 The carriage dashed down the drive. The coachman 
 and footman looked out of the corners of their eyes at 
 each other knowingly and grinned. 
 
 Babs swung the stick round her head till it sang 
 through the air. 
 
 " Good switch !" she said. "Another minute, and we 
 should have been bound to take a prim walk. Parents 
 are so unreasonable I Look at those horses they're 
 still capering." 
 
 " You might have upset the carriage," said Montacute. 
 
 " Yes," said Babs, unconcernedly ; " and how funny 
 they'd all have looked especially mamma, sprawling 
 among the cushions on the ground. Let's go to Wylde- 
 holme, Cute, by the fields." 
 
 "All right," he answered, but dubiously. He had a 
 book under his arm, and would rather have been left 
 alone to read it. 
 
 " Come, then, quick," said Babs, " before somebody 
 else pounces upon us and tries to stop us. We'll have 
 tea with old Grimwood. What do you want with that 
 horrid book ?" She snatched it from him and threw it 
 down on a seat in the portico. " I can't understand peo- 
 ple who bother with books when there is all that " she 
 waved her hands to the wide world " and the sun is 
 shining." She caught his hand and dragged him down 
 the steps. 
 
 " Perhaps if you'd any use for books you'd like them," 
 he retorted, yielding to her imperious will, but reluc- 
 tantly. 
 
 "Thank Heaven, I haven't!" Babs answered, cheer- 
 fully. " There are plenty of book-fools in the family 
 without me. The one among us who'd be distinguished 
 would be the one with some common-sense, and that's 
 what I mean to cultivate. You can do the poet, and 
 mamma can do the dignified matron, and Julia the social 
 aspirant, and Aunt Lorraine poor Aunt Lorraine," she 
 
 66
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 broke off, compassionately. " Cute, they say there's 
 something wanting about Aunt Lorraine. What do you 
 think it is ? She's clever, you know ; she can do such 
 a lot of things draw, paint, play, sing anything she 
 likes. What can be wrong ?" 
 
 " Wants balance," said Cute, sententiously. 
 
 "Ah, that's too hard for me," said Babs, upon reflec- 
 tion. " I should have to think about ever so many more 
 things in order to explain it to myself what is ' bal- 
 ance/ you know, and that sort of thing. Too much 
 trouble ; I don't want to think I want to feel. Oh-h-h !" 
 she drew in a long breath of pleasure " but the air 
 is sweet !" 
 
 " They say you're wanting, too, Babs," said Cute. 
 " They say you're a soulless little animal." 
 
 " I know," said Babs, with a gratified smile. " But 
 what do I want with a soul ? I seem to be able to get on 
 without one. I'm never ill ; I can't say I'm never un- 
 happy ; but I do have good times ! If you knew I" 
 
 She hugged herself on the recollection of her last 
 night's exploits. She did not take her brother into her 
 confidence, however. She followed her favorite pur- 
 suits alone, and lost interest in them if she ever discussed 
 them. In all that concerned her intimate sensations she 
 was secretive. 
 
 " Oh yes, I get on all right without a soul," she pur- 
 sued ; " but Aunt Lorraine doesn't seem to be able to 
 get on without balance whatever that may be. 
 Don't let us think, though. Let us have a good 
 time." 
 
 They had scampered across the lawn in front of the 
 house and down the long avenue to the left, which ended 
 in an iron gate. The gate was locked, but Lorraine, for- 
 getful, as usual, of her petticoats, bundled herself over 
 it, and set off again, helter-skelter, across the park, fol- 
 lowed by Cute as hard as he could tear. Soppy tufts of 
 
 67
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 grass much impeded their progress. Babs tripped, but 
 took it as a matter of course that she should come down 
 occasionally. 
 
 " There goes another gown !" she remarked. 
 
 " You'd not be so casual if you had to buy them," he 
 grumped. 
 
 * Why not ?" she demanded. " It's good for trade." 
 
 " What do you know about trade ?" 
 
 " Nothing, except that it's nasty to be in it and nice to 
 encourage it. That's another thing that I should want 
 to have explained to me if I were stupid enough to be 
 clever." 
 
 They were out of sight of the house by this time. Babs 
 slackened her speed, and began to look about her. It 
 was a lovely day. Spring had set in. There was 
 warmth in the sunshine. The sap was stirring in the 
 trees, and bourgeoning buds proclaimed it. A lowing 
 of herds and bleating of sheep was in the air, and the 
 birds were preparing their songs for the summer. Over- 
 head, the sky was magnificent. Great bright masses of 
 snowy cloud sailed majestically over infinite depths of 
 blue. 
 
 Babs looked up in awe and admiration ; but her fickle 
 interest was not to be held in long by the heavens, when 
 on earth there were deer in the distance and pheasants 
 peeping from the coverts near at hand. 
 
 The park sloped at this point with a gradual descent 
 down to a rivulet which divided the Dane Court property 
 from Wyldeholme. In summer it was always a merry 
 stream, brisk and babbling, but now it had acquired the 
 dignity of depth from the recent rains, and moved with 
 a solemn murmur, neither laughing nor complaining. 
 On the other side the ground ascended somewhat steep- 
 ly. The stream had to be crossed on stepping-stones, 
 and these were covered now with an inch or two of 
 water. But water was no impediment to Babs. In she 
 
 68
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 splashed, followed by her brother, and both landed, drip- 
 ping, on the other side. 
 
 They climbed the hill, and paused a moment when 
 they reached the top to look about them. The country 
 all round was rich in wood and water, in upland, meadow, 
 and arable lands. 
 
 " Babs," said Montacute, " how jolly it would be if 
 Wyldeholme were yours 1 Just fancy what fun we 
 could have when I come into Dane Court ! We might 
 make a tunnel through a secret tunnel from one house 
 to the other and learn black magic and frighten the 
 folk." 
 
 He looked back the way they had come. All the love- 
 ly lands that lay behind them were his, but his pale face 
 took on an extra tinge of melancholy as he surveyed the 
 prospect. 
 
 " The place won't be much to me if you aren't there," 
 he said, " or at all events near at hand." 
 
 " I shouldn't have thought you'd care to have me any- 
 where in the neighborhood, judging from the way you've 
 been snapping at me ever since we set out," Babs re- 
 marked, in a casual way. "You're irritable to-day, 
 Cute ; that's what's the matter with you." 
 
 " Yes, I am irritable," he confessed, in a like easy tone. 
 " I have little enough body, but I've no nerves. I'm the 
 mistake of the family. You and Julia are splendid." 
 
 " You're no mistake," said Babs, consolatrix. " Think 
 of the head you have ! Why, Mr. Bruce says it's non- 
 sense to talk of teaching you ! The difficulty is to keep 
 up with you, you learn at such a rate. And what you 
 want is head, with such estates to manage. It doesn't 
 matter for us; we'll have our husbands to do all the 
 drudgery for us. Not but what Julia is clever. She 
 has a mind of her own, but it isn't like yours. Your 
 mind is like your land, capable of producing all kinds of 
 crops ; Julia's is just a nice little patch of garden ground, 
 
 69
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 which she will cultivate to the uttermost, and get all she 
 can out of it. You'll see. She'll fill it with flowers all 
 the pretty-pretties. It will be a regular show-place, 
 Julia's mind, when she's a woman. All she has in it 
 will be always on view. I wonder what we shall all be 
 doing when you come of age ! I suppose mamma will 
 go to dear London, and take Julia with her ; but I wish 
 she wouldn't. I hate all change ; and I wish we could 
 live here always, all four together, just like this." 
 
 " Including Julia ?" 
 
 " Why not ? I suppose we must all separate sooner 
 or later, but I shall hate it when the time comes. I 
 know I squabble with Julia, but I like to have her about 
 all the same, even if it's only to squabble with. She's 
 my only sister, you see." 
 
 " The less excuse for her," said Cute. " I don't look 
 forward to having her at Dane Court all her life at all. 
 I hope she'll marry and be happy elsewhere." 
 
 " I shall hate it when she does," Babs reiterated. 
 
 " As long as you're together she'll always be playing 
 you nasty tricks, as she did yesterday about those vio- 
 lets taking the credit you deserve ; and you'll always 
 be shrugging your shoulders and saying it doesn't mat- 
 ter, I suppose." 
 
 " Very likely/' said Babs, indifferently. " Let's get 
 on." 
 
 She led the way once more, stumbling along impetu- 
 ously, down a narrow, rough, winding path, through 
 thick plantations which blocked their view, until they 
 came in sight of the beautiful old manor of Wyldeholme, 
 nestling in a hollow just below. The house was shel- 
 tered by great trees, and surrounded by large gardens, 
 terraced to the south, but laid out on the other side in 
 long borders, where old-fashioned flowers flourished, and 
 in mossy lawns, broken by close-clipped hedges of holly 
 and box and yew, and shrubberies, ever green a lovely 
 
 70
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 spot, but of melancholy beauty. It was in vain that the 
 brightest flowers bloomed there in their seasons. The 
 place did not take its tone from the flowers, but from the 
 junipers with bleeding berries, the dark Scotch firs, larch, 
 deodora, Wellingtonia, and yew. It was one of those 
 places upon which the past is forever brooding. The 
 past got hold of you when you wandered there alone, 
 and lay in wait for you at every turn, so that you were 
 always asking of it, " What happened here ?" And it 
 would have surprised you more to meet a modern girl in 
 a sailor hat in a sheltered alley than a lady from out of 
 the long ago, strutting on high heels, in stiff brocade, 
 and powder and patches. 
 
 The path through the plantation brought the children 
 to a little gate which gave on a green lawn at one end 
 of the house. Here, at either corner, there were deep bay- 
 windows, opening on to stone steps which descended to 
 the garden. Between the two bay-windows was a broad 
 veranda with a marble bulustrade. The rooms off the 
 veranda were shut up now, as also was the bay-window 
 on the right ; but that on the left was wide open, and the 
 blinds were drawn up. 
 
 " Hurrah !" said Babs. " We're in luck. G rim's air- 
 ing the boudoir. Aren't we in a pickle, Mrs Grim ?" she 
 demanded, running up the steps and appearing sudden- 
 ly before the startled housekeeper. 
 
 " Gracious goodness, miss 1" the old lady exclaimed, 
 turning from the cabinet she was dusting " both of 
 you ! Pickle, indeed ! I never saw a young lady and 
 gentleman in such a mess in all my born days. How- 
 ever you've managed it, I can't think. Miss Lorraine, 
 you're a big girl now. You did ought to know better 
 you really did." 
 
 " Look here, Mrs. Grim," said Babs, " if you begin to 
 scold, I shall do some damage to the place. It's quite 
 enough to have them going gray at Dane Court over my
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 dirty dress. I've come here for a change for tea and 
 jocularity. Please be kind. You've no idea how much 
 nicer you look when you're pleasant." 
 
 Mrs. Grimwood made an ineffectual effort to be severe. 
 Plump and pleasant and kindly were the characteristics 
 of her appearance, and there was an air of affluence about 
 her even when, as on this occasion, she was only wear- 
 ing her second-best black silk an atmosphere of com- 
 fort, into which all were absorbed who approached her. 
 
 " Why do you always do this room yourself ?" Cute 
 asked. 
 
 " It's Mr. Jeffrey's wish, sir." 
 
 " Because of his mother ?" 
 
 The housekeeper nodded. 
 
 " My mother says," Cute pursued, " that Lady Blanche 
 Wylde was one of the loveliest and most unhappy women 
 she ever knew her husband was such a brute ; and 
 mamma always speaks of ' that poor boy Jeffrey ' as if 
 he'd been awfully bullied at home." 
 
 " I don't suppose he deserves to be pitied," said Babs. 
 " He's sure to take after his father," 
 
 " I don't see that," Cute argued. " Boys generally 
 take after their mothers." 
 
 " Do they, Grim ?" Babs demanded. 
 
 " Some does, and some does not," was the cautious 
 rejoinder. " I knew a young gentleman " 
 
 " Oh, I say," Cute broke in, impatiently, " haven't you 
 nearly done with this tiresome dusting ? I'm famishing 
 for something to eat." 
 
 " Then you must have something at once, I suppose," 
 Mrs. Grimwood answered resignedly, shaking the duster 
 out of the window, and leading the way to her own room. 
 
 There Cute threw himself into a big arm-chair, and 
 lay back with his legs dangling, looking singularly 
 quaint and old. 
 
 u When do you expect long-legged Jeffrey ?" he asked. 
 
 72
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " How do you know his legs are long ?" Babs broke in. 
 
 " Shure, thin, don't I remimber him, honey ?" Cute 
 rejoined. 
 
 " He doesn't speak a bit like that," Babs snapped ; 
 " and I don't remember him." 
 
 " Naturally not, you goose ; you were in your cradle." 
 
 " Hush, children," said Mrs. Grimwood. " You mustn't 
 gird at each other like that." 
 
 " Bless you ! we're not girding," said Babs. " It's only 
 our playful way. We raise our voices to reach each 
 other's understanding. But I say, Grim, do tell me, has 
 Jeffrey got long legs ?" 
 
 " As fine as any in the county when he left," said Mrs. 
 Grimwood from amid her preparations for tea ; " but 
 not exactly long nor short, neither. Just right, you 
 know. He was twenty-one when he went, and that's 
 seven years since. Dear, dear, how time does go ! He's 
 travelled most everywhere by now ; but he'll soon be 
 back, I trust, please God." 
 
 " I hope he'll never come," said Babs. " It'll make a 
 change when he comes, and I hate changes. Besides, 
 I'm sure he's a beast like his father, and he'll shut up 
 the grounds and make himself disagreeable in every pos- 
 sible way." 
 
 " Don't you say such a thing, Miss Babs," Mrs. Grim- 
 wood remonstrated. " You don't know nothing of the 
 kind, and you've no call to say it if you did." 
 
 Babs laughed. 
 
 " I've a great mind to take off my shoes and stockings 
 and dry them," Cute said, suddenly, after a pause. 
 
 Mrs. Grimwood pricked up her ears. 
 
 " Are they wet ?" she asked. 
 
 He stretched out a leg for her to feel. 
 
 " Miss Lorraine," she said, solemnly, " you should 
 know better." 
 
 " Oh, of course !" Babs retorted. " Make me my broth- 
 
 73
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 er's keeper ! Everybody expects me to pick his steps for 
 him because I'm younger, and stupider, and more 
 thoughtless, I suppose." 
 
 She had grown very red, and round the rims of her 
 angelic blue eyes something shone suspiciously. 
 
 " It's all right, Babs," Montacute assured her. " Don't 
 you fret. It's better to have a lot expected of you for be- 
 ing big than to be set down for a silly who can't take 
 care of himself, like me, because I'm small." 
 
 " Here, take your teas, children," Mrs. Grimwood put 
 in. " There is no harm done, so stop disputing. I'll 
 send you back in the dog-cart when Mr. Montacute's 
 shoes and socks are dry. Sit here, sir, with your feet 
 to the fire while you wait, and I'll put your tea beside 
 you." 
 
 Then Babs fell to, and having imperilled the precari- 
 ous health of her beloved brother by dragging him after 
 her through mud and water, she proceeded, for the relief 
 of her own feelings, and in proof of her concern, to en- 
 danger -his safety still further by forcing upon him 
 quantities of the most unwholesome things on the table. 
 
 74
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 JULIA and her mother had been to see Miss Spice 
 that afternoon, and had found her all in a twitter 
 of pleasurable excitement. It had been a day of 
 days to Miss Spice, such a one as had never come 
 to her before. In the morning Mr. Jelly bond Tinney 
 had paid his promised visit. Miss Spice had been awake 
 the greater part of the night, living over and over again 
 the delightful circumstances of their meeting in the after- 
 noon recalling her first glimpse of him in the distance, 
 her first impression of his importance, what he had said 
 and she had said, and how each had acted from be- 
 ginning to end. She had related the whole episode in 
 minute detail to the good aunt with whom she lived, Mrs. 
 Sophia Pepper, when they were at tea ; but Mrs. Sophia 
 Pepper had not been sympathetic. 
 
 " Some bagman, I suppose," she grumped ; " but, at 
 any rate, he'll never come near you, my dear " a sin- 
 ister prognostication which found only too ready an 
 echo in poor, dear, humble little Miss Spice's diffident 
 soul. 
 
 All the same she was up at daylight and had turned 
 out the drawing-room, cleaned it thoroughly, rearranged 
 the furniture to the best advantage, decked it with fra- 
 grant violets, fresh culled for the purpose, and carefully 
 lowered the blinds just far enough to make a pleasant 
 shade in the room without shutting out the pretty 
 glimpse of the garden, with its old trees, and the long, 
 level road running south. Miss Spice had always ex- 
 
 75
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 pected the knight who was to be hers to come to her by 
 that road out of the dim, mysterious distance. She had 
 pictured a tired horseman dropping with fatigue at her 
 gate, to whom she would offer hospitality and kind care, 
 with the inevitable result. But Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 must come by the road on the right from the village if, 
 indeed, he came at all. 
 
 Miss Spice took a last look round the drawing-room. 
 It was a quaint apartment, narrow for its length, with 
 nothing in it that was not old and elegant ; but Miss 
 Spice's heart contracted as she contemplated it. She 
 did not appreciate the lovely Chippendale and Sheraton 
 with which it was furnished. She thought those things 
 so many items added to the heavy handicap with which 
 she had started in life, and yearned for " occasional 
 chairs " and chiffonniers, and all the other monstrosi- 
 ties in the cheap tastelessness of the period. 
 
 They kept no servant, and she felt that this fact should 
 be concealed at the present juncture until it could be ac- 
 counted for romantically, so as to divest it of its sordid- 
 ness and lend it a pathetic interest. But who was to open 
 the door ? A fleeting vision of Aunt Sophia playing the 
 part of housekeeper which she might have done to per- 
 fection, her appearance being quite in keeping with the 
 character crossed Miss Spice's mind, but was instant- 
 ly dismissed for a generous reason. Little Miss Spice 
 would never have cast her dear old aunt for an invidious 
 part. Therefore, there was only one thing to be done 
 set the hall door open, go up-stairs, and wait till he ar- 
 rived, and then come running down just in time to go 
 forward unaffectedly and invite him in. 
 
 Miss Spice retired to her own bedroom, from the win- 
 dow of which she could see some little distance down the 
 road to the right. She was prepared to wait a weary 
 while, but she had scarcely taken her stand before she 
 saw the sun glint on the glossy surface of a silk hat. 
 
 76^
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Without waiting to see more, she rushed down-stairs into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " He's coming, aunt, he's coming !" she cried, breath- 
 lessly. "Come, quick, up to my room, and you'll see 
 him !" 
 
 She ran back, and Mrs. Sophia Pepper put down the 
 cup she was drying and followed her, wiping her hands 
 on the tea-cloth as she went. She was nearly as much 
 excited as Miss Spice. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond approached with a leisurely tread. He 
 seemed to be enjoying the sunshine and the landscape. 
 There was approval enough in his every glance to have 
 encouraged the earth. He saw the two eager faces at 
 the little lattice window, but no one would have sus- 
 pected it. 
 
 " What do you think of him, aunt ?" Miss Spice de- 
 manded, in a whisper. 
 
 " He's a fine man," the old lady owned, ungrudgingly, 
 thawed, even at her age, out of her habitual cantanker- 
 ousness by the unwonted and stimulating sight. 
 
 Miss Spice swept down the stairs into the hall, as she 
 expressed it to herself, and met him at the door. The 
 little manoeuvre answered admirably. 
 
 When they were seated in the drawing-room, Mr. Jel- 
 lybond Tinney looked about him with approval. 
 
 " Violets," he remarked. " How fragrant ! I always 
 think there is no scent so perfect for a lady's room. Roses 
 are sweet, but their perfume is more blatant than that of 
 the violet, if you know what I mean. May I make a 
 remark ?" 
 
 " Certainly with pleasure," Miss Spice stammered, 
 anxious above everything to be agreeable, and tripping 
 over her words in the effort. 
 
 " Your furniture," he proceeded " Chippendale 
 Sheraton. Preserved, I dare say, in your family a long 
 time. Probably it was bought from the makers." 
 
 77
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " It was so I've been told," said Miss Spice, apolo- 
 getically. " My father and mother were old-fashioned ; 
 they never would replace it, and I have never been able 
 to." 
 
 " I congratulate you," said Mr. Jellybond, impressive- 
 ly. " Your furniture is perfect ; and it suits you, too, 
 if I may venture to say so it suits your type. These 
 spindle-legs how graceful 1" 
 
 " Ye yes," Miss Spice said, dubiously ; but the big 
 man blinked blandly, innocent of any double intention. 
 
 " If you should ever want money," he continued 
 " which Heaven forbid ! but if you should, remember 
 your graceful spindle-legs. Collectors would give you 
 a great deal for them. And I could myself play the part 
 of a friend, and put you in the way of disposing of them 
 to the best advantage." 
 
 " You are too kind, I'm sure," said Miss Spice, look- 
 ing round at the room in a bewildered way. 
 
 * Yes," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. " Let us be friends. 
 You will be my friend now for a moment, and play a 
 friend's part in the matter of the introduction you prom- 
 ised me." 
 
 " Oh, certainly," Miss Spice jerked out. 
 
 "And I will be your friend forever." 
 
 Miss Spice was speechless, but she bowed her thanks. 
 Then there was a pause. She did not know what to do 
 next. 
 
 " I really feel I am troubling you," Mr. Jellybond said. 
 
 " Not at all," she replied, but she did not move. 
 
 " Perhaps if I dictate the note," he suggested, in des- 
 peration, " I should then be taking my share of the 
 trouble." 
 
 " If you would be so kind," said Miss Spice, greatly 
 relieved. She had been dreading another request for 
 the visiting-card she did not possess. 
 
 She sat down at the writing-bureau, and, although her 
 
 78
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 hand trembled as if she were signing the marriage reg- 
 ister, she managed to write clearly, as follows, to Mr. 
 Jelly bond's dictation : 
 
 " DEAR MR. WORRINGHAM, May I have the pleas- 
 ure of introducing to you a friend of mine, Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney ? He has been a traveller in his time, and has 
 done and seen a great deal, but is now anxious to rest 
 on his laurels, and he would like very much to take a 
 house in this neighborhood and end his days among us 
 in peace. I am sure you will find him a good, sound 
 Churchman, an excellent parishioner, and one ever ready 
 to help you in all good works. I may mention that his 
 means are ample. 
 
 " I have been thinking the Swiss Cottage might suit 
 him, but I have advised him to consult you about it, and, 
 if you recommend the place, I will ask you to be so good 
 as to give him an introduction to Squire Normanton in 
 order to facilitate the settlement of the business. 
 
 " With kind regards and many apologies for troubling 
 you, 
 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 
 "ALICIA SPICE." 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Jellybond, glancing at the note before 
 he put it in his pocket, " thank you. This will bring me 
 good-luck " and he tapped his coat. " My good genius 
 has always been a woman. First my mother but I 
 must not look back ; I must look forward now. Hence- 
 forth my object in life will be to do what little good I can, 
 and my motto is ' Enjoy. ' I mean to enjoy as I go along, 
 and help others to enjoy. I may say, already, that I 
 enjoy everything I do and not the least shall I enjoy 
 coming here, when I am invited, to visit an unsophisti- 
 cated young lady. Unsophisticated, my dear Miss 
 Spice," he announced, as he rose to take his leave " un- 
 
 79
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 sophisticated means, in my dictionary, sweet and un- 
 hackneyed." 
 
 " Oh yes, of course. To be sure quite so," said Miss 
 Spice. 
 
 Mr. Worringham received Mr. Jellybond Tinney with 
 the kindliest consideration, and fell at once under the 
 dominion of his strong personality. The large man 
 filled the vicarage with a new atmosphere a well-fed, 
 vitalizing atmosphere, charged with energy, and sug- 
 gestive of temporal pleasures. His lat, mellow voice 
 boomed about the place, his whole presence was stimu- 
 lating, and his cheery attitude towards the world and 
 his wife had the effect upon Mr. Worringham of a sud- 
 den increase of appetite. Mr. Jellybond made the good 
 vicar feel as if he should like to eat, too, and live. Mr. 
 Worringham in his study was surrounded by ecclesias- 
 tical symbols, and was himself in appearance a typical 
 ecclesiastic of the refined ascetic type. He was not a 
 man of any capacity, or he would not have been left by 
 his distinguished family to vegetate at Danehurst, but 
 he had that charm which is independent of mental ca- 
 pacity, the charm of simplicity and perfect sincerity. 
 These were at once his strength and his weakness his 
 strength in that they won him the affection and respect 
 of his people, his weakness in so far as they rendered him 
 liable to be imposed upon. Charitable, unsuspicious, 
 incapable of evil, either in thought, word, or deed, he 
 might have done well in heaven, but was quite unfit for 
 the work of this world. He had not got much beyond 
 mediaeval times when Mr. Jellybond Tinney arrived that 
 morning, and he had been feeling mediaeval too, if we 
 may judge of mediaeval feelings by the expression of 
 mediaeval faces in the pictures ; but before Mr. Jelty- 
 bond Tinney had been with him half an hour, he had 
 advanced several centuries at a bound. 
 
 80
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " So you are an old friend of Miss Spice's ?" he said, 
 when he had read the note. 
 
 " Oh, fie !" Mr. Jellybond answered. " One never calls 
 a lady old." 
 
 Mr. Worringham nodded his head at that, and smiled 
 knowingly. 
 
 " Squire Normanton the Swiss Cottage," he said, 
 making an effort to reflect. " Why, yes, to be sure de- 
 lighted. Between ourselves " he lowered his voice con- 
 fidentially " he'll be very glad to get rid of it. If you'll 
 come I'm just going out I'll show you the place, and 
 then, if you like, we'll go on and see the squire. Between 
 ourselves " he again became confidential " it's very 
 much out of repair, you know, and he hasn't the means 
 that's the difficulty with the landed gentry no ready 
 money." 
 
 As they walked up the village street they saw two 
 tall, dark ladies, evidently mother and daughter, ap- 
 proaching. Both ladies stared at Mr. Jellybond in 
 a startled way, as though there were something un- 
 expected in his appearance. The mother called a 
 halt by stopping dead in front of the two gentle- 
 men. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Worringham ?" she said, in a 
 deep, stern voice. 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Japp ! How do you do ? Miss Florence, 
 too !" the vicar exclaimed. 
 
 " I am well," said Mrs. Japp, with her eye on Mr. Jel- 
 lybond. 
 
 That gentleman, with his habitual presence of mind, 
 clicked his heels together, foreign fashion, raised his hat 
 high, and bowed. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Mr. Worringham, collecting himself 
 " yes, to be sure yes quite well, thank you yes. Oh 
 yes let me present Mr. Jellybond Tinney er er 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney." 
 
 p 81
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " May I venture to describe myself as a new parish- 
 ioner ?" Mr. Jellyboncl asked. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, I hope so," said Mr. Worringham. 
 " Quite an acquisition, eh, Mrs. Japp ? One more gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 " And no lady ?" Mrs. Japp sternly demanded. 
 
 " No, alas !" said Mr. Jelly bond. " No kind lady has 
 taken pity upon me as yet." 
 
 He looked at the two ladies so as to include them both 
 impartially in this touching confidence. 
 
 " But mustn't detain you," said Mr. Worringham. 
 " Very busy." 
 
 The mother and daughter went their way with a curi- 
 ously altered demeanor. As they approached it might 
 have been observed that they were both silent and de- 
 pressed ; but no sooner were the gentlemen out of hear- 
 ing than they turned to each other and began to step 
 out and talk with extraordinary animation. 
 
 After an elaborate inspection of the house and grounds, 
 Mr. Jellybond was satisfied that he could make the Swiss 
 Cottage all that he desired in a residence, and he accord- 
 ingly accepted Mr. Worringham's offer to drive with him 
 at once to Normanton Hall to see the squire. 
 
 82
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 RS. KINGCONSTANCE'S visit to Miss Spice 
 that afternoon was a visit of kindness and con- 
 descension, tempered by a natural desire to 
 know what everybody was doing in the neigh- 
 borhood ; for poor dear Miss Spice was not, you know', 
 quite well, her father was a clergyman, and that, of 
 course, entitled her to be called upon, but then Mrs. 
 Sophia Pepper, the widowed aunt on her mother's side 
 with whom she lived, was not a person with any claim 
 to be recognized, and that made it a little awkward. 
 However, the aunt could be civilly ignored for the sake 
 of Miss Spice and the news of the neighborhood. The 
 Cross Roads Cottage was most conveniently situated 
 where four roads, running east, west, north, and south, 
 crossed just outside the village of Danehurst; and it 
 had somehow become the custom of " the county " to call 
 there often, in spite of the detrimental aunt. Ladies 
 were wont to make it the object of their afternoon drive, 
 and thus it became a centre to which all the news of the 
 neighborhood flowed. The cottage faced south, and 
 from that direction only was it visible to people approach- 
 ing it. On the other three sides it was hidden from the 
 road by the screen of trees which encircled the delightful 
 old garden. In the summer the garden itself was a great 
 attraction. Ladies would make rendezvous with each 
 other there, and would sit out together under the trees, 
 enjoying the heavenly seclusion and each other's con- 
 versation, while little Miss Spice and her aunt made tea 
 
 83
 
 B A B S T H E IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 for them, and felt well rewarded by the honor of enter- 
 taining them, although several teas of an afternoon were 
 a severe tax on the slender resources of the two poor 
 ladies. There was, however, joy in the luxury of giv- 
 ing and in the gentle, generous courtesy and kindness 
 which made of their frugal hospitality such an accept- 
 able sacrifice ; so perhaps, after all, they were right to 
 give without grudging, and with no thought of other 
 gain than the pleasure of providing refreshment and 
 receiving thanks for the same. 
 
 The institution of the Cross Roads tea-house must 
 have been a real boon to ladies living seventeen miles 
 from a railway station, for they had but a tabby time of 
 it. Husbands were growing old, or had died, and broth- 
 ers had gone out into the world, so that for the most part 
 society was composed of lonely ladies wives, widows, 
 and spinsters. The few men who might be counted on 
 for a dinner-party were landed gentry, in honor of whom 
 any small function such as an afternoon tea was held in 
 vain, so that the appearance of a gentleman who was 
 not a clergyman at the more informal gatherings had 
 become such a rare event that if one did come by any 
 chance, enough was made of him to turn his head for 
 life. In fact, the importance of a man a ladies' man 
 in that secluded region had so increased since the rail- 
 way passed it by on the other side of the county that any 
 conceited ape, if only his manners had been present- 
 able, would have been received at his own valuation by 
 the most exclusive people in the district. 
 
 The lonely, stay-at-home ladies were not for the most 
 part women of means. If there were any money in the 
 family, the men kept it, and spent it on themselves. The 
 men had the best education, the best chance of cultivat- 
 ing their minds by travel and experience, and the most 
 amusement ; the women were pretty generally skimped 
 in everything that did not tend to increase the pleasure
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 or vouch for the importance of their lords. As the young 
 girls grew up, a sort of blight seemed to settle upon them ; 
 their beauty faded, their possibilities shrank to nothing, 
 and they became for the most part subdued and joyless. 
 Occasionally a married woman would rise above her sur- 
 roundings, develop all that was best in herself with in- 
 finite pains, form her daughters into fine characters, and 
 be a hallowed influence to her sons ; but she was made 
 to suffer for her originality the pin-pricks of the abject 
 who ignobly endure the usual penalty imposed upon 
 those in advance of their time. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was one of those people who used 
 the pin on occasion. No wish of her own had ever been 
 ungratified, and, therefore, she had no patience with 
 those who complain of their lot in life. She had no imag- 
 ination to bring home to her any evil or pain which that 
 lot might include. She knew, of course, that Miss Spice's 
 means were narrow ; but she considered them sufficient 
 for Miss Spice's position, and never realized that Miss 
 Spice was sadly nipped by the cold in winter for want of 
 suitable clothing, and suffered more or less all the year 
 round from insufficient food and various other priva- 
 tions. Mrs. Kingconstance, in comfort in her carriage, 
 often passed Miss Spice on the road in muddy weather, 
 battling with the wind, on her way to the village shop ; 
 but it never occurred to her that Miss Spice was to be 
 pitied, far less helped. The arrangement of the world 
 suited Mrs. Kingconstance admirably, and if other peo- 
 ple were not so well off as herself, it was presumably the 
 will of the Lord, which nobody should question. Look- 
 ing at life from the cushions of her carriage, she saw 
 nothing that she would have had altered ; and had Miss 
 Spice, from her point of view, been inclined to cavil, Mrs. 
 Kingconstance would have become suspicious of her, 
 and avoided her. She would have dropped any one's 
 acquaintance had she found them differing from ac- 
 
 85
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 cepted conditions to the extent of disapproving of them ; 
 yet Mrs. Kingconstance would have been much surprised 
 had anybody hinted that she was not a most large-mind- 
 ed, as well as kindly and considerate, person, or that she 
 failed to fulfil her whole duty in every relation of life. 
 She had many humble acquaintances to whom she con- 
 descended to be affable ; but she carefully kept them in 
 their places, and made them feel the difference of posi- 
 tion. In her friends, rank and wealth were all but in- 
 dispensable. She did acknowledge, however, that birth 
 may sometimes come down in the world by no fault of 
 its own, and she did not, therefore, scorn to visit birth 
 in reduced circumstances. But, like others of her class, 
 she was ready to make exceptions to any rule of her life 
 when it suited herself, and if some of the people she coun- 
 tenanced had less claim to that distinction than she con- 
 sidered necessary, she had always an excuse ready which 
 made the lapse redound to her own credit. When she in- 
 dulged in a good gossip, a thing she dearly loved, with 
 a person not at all her equal, she quite understood in 
 herself that she was immensely superior to that kind of 
 thing, really, only she did not think it nice to snub the 
 good creature by refusing to listen. 
 
 Miss Spice happened to look out of the window just as 
 Mrs. Kingconstance's carriage stopped at the garden 
 gate that afternoon. The sunlight glinted on the pol- 
 ished panels and the silver-mounted harness ; the horses, 
 chafing at their cruel bearing-reins, pawed the ground 
 and tossed their heads in pain ; the footman leaped to 
 the ground alertly and held out his arm to help his lady 
 to descend ; and the heart of little Miss Spice, in view 
 of such signs of wealth and position, expanded pleasur- 
 ably, so that when Mrs. Kingconstance sailed into the 
 little drawing-room, followed by her daughter Julia, it 
 would be hard to say which had the highest idea of her 
 importance, she herself or Miss Spice. She arrived most 
 
 86
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 opportunely, too, to add to Miss Spice's gratification, for 
 Mrs. and Miss Japp were there already, and Mrs. Nor- 
 manton, the squire's wife, with two of her daughters, 
 and they would all be pleased to see Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 Mrs. Norman ton herself was somebody, of course ; but 
 Mrs. Kingconstance, being quite the most exclusive per- 
 son in the neighborhood, was everywhere the most de- 
 sired. So Miss Spice was all twitters and not on her 
 own account only, but on everybody else's. She looked 
 wonderfully well that afternoon, with her flaxen curls 
 framing her little, peeky, pink and white face, and every 
 action animated by the desire to please. 
 
 Mrs. Normanton was a broad embodiment of the prose 
 and commonplace of her class. She was her husband's 
 creature, without a will of her own. What mind she had 
 was quite undeveloped by education, and contained a 
 curious conglomerate of principles and prejudices. She 
 belonged to the generation of landed gentry who could 
 live at home in ease and idleness while the laborers on 
 the estate, with their wives and children, were herded 
 together indecently in unsanitary cottages, sweated of 
 every penny of wages and every hour of time that could 
 be wrung from them, expected to toil and suffer till they 
 sank exhausted, then carted off to the workhouse to die 
 in disgrace for that they could do no more. And Mrs. 
 Normanton, like Mrs. Kingconstance, would have re- 
 sented as an insult any suggestion that this was not as 
 it should be, according to the will of God. 
 
 While Mrs. Normanton and Mrs. Kingconstance were 
 entertaining each other which they began to do at once 
 without further considering their hostess, their daugh- 
 ters following their example, while Mrs. and Miss Japp 
 looked on little Miss Spice twittered into the kitchen 
 on the tips of her toes. Mrs. Sophia Pepper, her aunt, 
 was on her knees in front of the kitchen fire making 
 toast. 
 
 87
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 "Auntie, dear/' Miss Spice gasped, excitedly, " it's 
 Mrs. Kingconstance and Miss Julia." 
 
 " Two more spoonfuls of tea," said Mrs. Sophia Pepper. 
 
 Miss Spice seized the mustard tin in which the tea was 
 kept, and hastily put two more teaspoonfuls into the tea- 
 pot. She tilted the tin to the light, and looked into it be- 
 fore she put the lid on, then made a rapid calculation 
 mechanically. The tea was certainly very low ; could 
 it possibly be made to hold out till Saturday ? Milk 
 and hot water had so very little support in it ; but, never 
 mind hospitality ! These things must be done. 
 
 Mrs. Sophia Pepper cast a comprehensive glance over 
 her shoulder, which took in the whole situation, then 
 nodded agreement at the kitchen fire. 
 
 * Keep what's left for visitors," she said, grimly. 
 " We'll do without." 
 
 She might have shared her brains with most of her 
 niece's visitors, giving each enough to inspire respect, 
 and still have had plenty left for herself ; yet she, too, suf- 
 fered from the influences of her environment, and felt 
 it an honor to have such company under her roof. But 
 respect for the position of her niece's guests did not pre- 
 vent Mrs. Sophia Pepper from summing them up and 
 appraising them on occasion shrewdly. 
 
 Miss Spice fluttered back to the drawing-room, hold- 
 ing aloft the buttered toast on a plate in one hand and 
 some slices of cake in the other. She reminded herself 
 of a picture she had seen, when she was in London, of 
 a lovely young lady with nothing worth mentioning on 
 her shoulders, who was holding up to a king a symboli- 
 cal offering of flowers and fruit. She was also conscious 
 of her streaming hair, and had she seen a reflection of 
 herself with wings in the little Sheraton mirror on the 
 wall opposite the door as she entered the drawing-room, 
 she would hardly have been surprised, so lightly did she 
 seem to skim along in her elation.
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Kingconstance, have you heard the news ?" 
 she burst out. " The stranger !" 
 
 She stopped, and blushed and twittered as if the news 
 somehow concerned herself specially, pleasantly, but 
 also much to her modest embarrassment. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance looked at her out of her great, soft 
 dark eyes, much as a nice, comfortable, well-bred cow 
 looks when in an inquiring mood not sympathetically, 
 but somewhat suspiciously, as if she expected to be dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 Miss Spice glanced archly at Mrs. Normanton. 
 
 * Do tell !" she entreated. 
 
 That usually stolid mother of a family at once became 
 animated ; so also did Mrs. Japp and Florence. But 
 before another word could be said a carriage stopped 
 at the gate, and a tall, gaunt, but not inelegant gray- 
 haired lady with a hard countenance descended. She 
 looked as if she were coming to pronounce sentence of 
 death on somebody. 
 
 " Here's Lady May," said Miss Spice. " I must let 
 her in." 
 
 When Lady May was seated, Julia asked, impatiently : 
 
 " Who's the man, Miss Spice ?" 
 
 Miss Spice looked at Mrs. Normanton, twittered, blush- 
 ed, and rounded her eyes in an ecstasy of dumb entreaty. 
 
 " It is only a gentleman," Mrs. Normanton said, try- 
 ing hard not to look as though that were important. 
 " The Swiss Cottage, you know. We have sold it." 
 
 " But that is not all !" cried Miss Spice, shaking off her 
 modest embarrassment suddenly in her excitement. " It 
 is sold to a somebody a great man." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance raised inquiring eyebrows. 
 
 " Six feet, at least, and stout in proportion," Mrs. Japp 
 put in. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Japp, dear !" little Miss Spice remonstrated. 
 " He is a fine man, of course ; but there is something 
 
 89
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 more than size. There is mystery, or I am 'much mis- 
 taken." 
 
 " Oh, come now, Miss Spice," said Mrs. Normanton, 
 stiffly, resenting the imputation of mystery as some- 
 thing not respectable. " My husband ascertained all 
 that was necessary. You may be sure he would see to 
 that, and have proper references before he sold the house. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Miss Spice ; " of course we know the 
 squire would not have any one come into the neighbor- 
 hood without ascertaining. But a gentleman may have 
 the highest references and that is just it, dear Mrs. 
 Normanton. This gentleman's references are so very 
 high they come from such very high quarters that it 
 means mystery. The stranger must be a distinguished 
 man to know such people. Then why is he here ? He 
 does not say he cannot explain ; but he accidentally 
 led me to infer " 
 
 " Then you have made his acquaintance ?" said Mrs. 
 Kingconstance. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Spice, solemnly ; " and I have seen 
 him on two occasions." 
 
 " Well, what did he tell you ?" Lady May asked, some- 
 what impatiently. 
 
 " Nothing," Miss Spice answered, impressively. " The 
 first time we met we er we conversed ; the second time 
 he drew from his breast-pocket a lovely miniature a 
 Cosway, he said. It was the portrait of a beautiful lady 
 in court dress. The likeness was so unmistakable I knew 
 who it was even before he said ' My mother/ I asked 
 I ventured to ask to see his father's, but he only sighed. 
 'Ah, my dear Miss Spice/ he said, ' some people have 
 sorrows before they are born.' No, though" she cor- 
 rected herself " I don't think it could have been that ex- 
 actly. Let me see. Was it ' Some people's sorrows be- 
 gin before they are born ' ? Something to that effect, 
 at all events. Now don't you call that mysterious ?" 
 
 90
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " It sounds odd, certainly/' said Mrs. Kingconstance, 
 helping herself to another slice of buttered toast and 
 turning to Lady May. " Have you seen anything of 
 this new acquisition to the neighborhood ? Is he to be 
 received ?" 
 
 " There can be no question of that/' Mrs. Normanton 
 decided. 
 
 " A bachelor, and well off 1" Mrs. Japp exclaimed, as if 
 the notion of not receiving him were preposterous. 
 
 " Oh, and a man of such taste, too !" Miss Spice put 
 in, with a little scream of enthusiasm. " You should 
 have heard him on the subject of Chippendale the 
 grace, you know." 
 
 Miss Spice would not have mentioned the value on 
 any account ; but the knowledge that her furniture was 
 good lent her a sense of dignity such as she had never 
 before experienced. She glanced round the room a$ she 
 spoke, and the other ladies' eyes followed hers in wonder. 
 
 " Did he admire these things ?" said Florence Japp. 
 
 " He did," said Miss Spice, valiantly. 
 
 There was a dead silence, then Mrs. Kingconstance 
 observed, with comfortable indifference : 
 
 " A gentleman of taste will really be an acquisition to 
 the neighborhood." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Miss Spice, fervently. " One does not 
 see many such men. Once in my life, indeed when I 
 was in London " She broke off short and sighed, her 
 thoughts having reverted to the Royal Duke to whom 
 she had dropped a courtesy. 
 
 " What is the gentleman's name, by-the-way ?" Mrs. 
 Kingconstance asked. 
 
 " Mr. Jellybond Tinney ; but for the present he pre- 
 fers to be called plain Mr. Jellybond/' Miss Spice replied, 
 and then she blushed and simpered. It showed such 
 intimacy to know his wishes in the matter. 
 
 " Gracious !" said Mrs. Kingconstance. " Jellybond 
 
 91
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Tinney ? I never knew there was such a name/' and 
 she shook her head so that everybody felt that there was 
 something discreditable to Mr. Jellybond Tinney in the 
 fact that Mrs. Kingconstance did not know his name. 
 
 On the way home Julia asked her mother what she in- 
 tended to do with regard to the new-comer. 
 
 " Nothing/' said Mrs. Kingconstance. " It is all very 
 well for the Normantons to countenance him, especially 
 if he is rich. They have a large family of daughters, 
 and it is important to them to be on friendly terms with 
 him. I am in quite a different position." 
 
 She nestled back in her carriage comfortably upon the 
 remark, and began to think of dinner. She was afraid 
 that she had said nothing about a savory. The sweets 
 she remembered discussing, but not the savory. And 
 she did feel that she should especially like a savory that 
 evening something to tempt the appetite; sweets are 
 so cloying. "Angels on horseback/' now those deli- 
 cious little morsels of oysters rolled in bacon and served 
 on crisp toast, very hot; and the oysters were in the 
 house. 
 
 She sat up with sudden energy and ordered the coach- 
 man to drive faster. 
 
 " Do you want anything, mamma,?" Julia asked. 
 
 " 'Angels on horseback !' "Mrs. Kingconstance ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 Miss Spice, meantime, was pressing her aunt to eat 
 a bit of cold buttered toast that had been left from tea. 
 Her own evening meal consisted of bread and beef drip- 
 ping, with a little milk and a good deal of hot water. 
 
 92
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 FOR several days Babs wearied for Cadenhouse, 
 but he did not come. Then she wrote him a 
 stiff little note : 
 
 " Mamma desires me to say that she particu- 
 larly wishes to see you at luncheon to-morrow at 1.30 
 o'clock." 
 
 Punctually to the moment Lord Cadenhouse arrived. 
 Babs was waiting in the hall to waylay him. 
 
 " I thought that would fetch you/' she said 
 
 " Do you mean to say " he was beginning, but she 
 interrupted him. 
 
 " Don't you give me away/' she said, " or there'll be 
 ructions. And don't look at the door like that you've 
 been announced. There's no escape." 
 
 " Babs," said Lord Cadenhouse, severely, " if you ever 
 play me, such a trick again I shall tell." 
 
 " Oh, all right," said Babs ; " only come along now 
 and be nice. It was quite true, though. Mamma does 
 wish to see you. She's always wondering why you 
 don't come." 
 
 She led the way towards the dining-room, where the 
 rest of the party were already seated. Lord Caden- 
 house followed her with his head in the air. On the 
 way it struck Babs that he was exceedingly grave and 
 dignified in appearance. She looked at him admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " People don't generally take liberties with you, I 
 should think," she said. 
 
 93
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " No, they do not/' said Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Then this must be a nice change for you," she re- 
 joined. 
 
 Cadenhouse stiffened perceptibly ; but they were at 
 the dining-room door, and he made no reply. 
 
 When he entered, the party was as dull as a north 
 room in midwinter. Mrs. Kingconstance never owned 
 that she was dull. If she felt depressed, she used to 
 say it was debility, and order something nice to eat ; 
 then she would give herself up to the pleasures of 
 anticipation, consumption, and recollection exercises 
 which she usually found all-sufficing for her comfort. 
 She did not call it comfort when it came, however, 
 but resignation. On this occasion she had just said 
 grace, and was sitting with her head up, in anticipa- 
 tion of the good things to come. Miss Minton and 
 Julia were still suffering from a tussle with a passage 
 of single - patient on the piano, and could not com- 
 mand a smile between them; while with poor Miss 
 Kingconstance it was one of those days that have to 
 be endured so different from the days that are lived. 
 The household was too heavily charged with feminin- 
 ity. The accustomed presence of Montacute and his 
 tutor did nothing to relieve the benumbing preponder- 
 ance of it. An outside influence was necessary, and 
 when Cadenhouse came the effect of his vitality made 
 itself felt immediately. It was like a powerful stimu- 
 lant that quickens the pulse and sharpens the wits. Julia 
 and Miss Minton smiled at the difficulties of single- 
 patient ; Miss Kingconstance was relieved from her mor- 
 bid self-consciousness, and wondered how she could have 
 imagined that a certain letter which her sister-in-law 
 had received that morning concerned her ; Mrs. King- 
 constance suddenly ceased to feel that she must take 
 something ; and Montacute and his tutor, being in- 
 fected with the change of mood that was operating 
 
 94
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 around them, turned to each other and talked without 
 fear of being snubbed. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance welcomed Cadenhouse warmly. 
 She had known him all his life, and in his boyhood he 
 had come continually to Dane Court ; but since he had 
 grown up she had seen very little of him. Now, as 
 he sat at table, she inspected him curiously, as also did 
 Miss Kingconstance, with whom he had played about 
 the place not so many years before. Both were con- 
 scious of some subtle change in him, which neither 
 could find words to define. As might have been ex- 
 pected, the grave, silent boy had grown into a grave, 
 silent man ; but there was more than that more than 
 the change from boy to man. 
 
 He had one of those faces which have this in common 
 with great statuary, that they bear no impress of age. 
 It is maturity that is typified, maturity at the point of 
 perfection, which makes us think neither of youth nor 
 of age, but pins us to the present with a sense of satis- 
 faction not to be analyzed. Cadenhouse was clean- 
 shaven. His featu es were regular and refined. He was 
 somewhat pale, but there was a suggestion of high 
 health in his whole appearance. It was his eyes and 
 mouth that marked him more than ordinary. His eyes 
 were dark and bright, but unimpassioned and slow. He 
 seemed to be looking on at life rather than living it. It 
 was as if he were surveying the world from a distance 
 and considering all he saw impartially. His mouth in 
 repose agreed with his eyes, and the finely curved full 
 lips set firmly. But the thing about his face that was 
 most striking was its extraordinary placidity. His 
 whole personality suggested strength; but it was in 
 the exceeding calm of his mouth that this impression 
 centred. There is a saying that God makes every feat- 
 ure of the face but the mouth our mouths we make 
 ourselves. Mouths are made or marred by time, trial, 
 
 95
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and habit, softened by heart, hardened by suffering ; 
 but it is to the soul that they owe the finishing touch. 
 The change which the ladies were aware of in Caden- 
 house's appearance came from this cause his soul had 
 set its first fine line upon his mouth to finish it, and 
 already in expression it was beautiful. 
 
 Cadenhouse looked round in turn, and noted the 
 changes since he had .last been there the children 
 nearly grown up, their mother more matronly in her 
 beauty, and Miss Kingconstance Cadenhouse was 
 shocked at the change in her. Miss Kingconstance 
 was a wreck. 
 
 " How nice it is to see you here again !" Mrs King- 
 constance exclaimed. " Now that you have found your 
 way back, I hope you will come often." 
 
 " Oh, he'll come, right enough," said Babs. " I'll 
 answer for him." 
 
 " Upon whose authority ?" Miss Kingconstance asked. 
 
 She smiled as she spoke, and Babs stared at her in 
 astonishment, her face was so beautified. Babs realized 
 how very seldom she had seen her aunt smile. 
 
 " What is it you asked me ?" she said, recollecting her- 
 self. " But never mind. Benson," she called to the but- 
 ler, " more beef. I don't know what there is about you, 
 Cadenhouse, but you do make me feel hungry." 
 
 " You must not speak to Lord Cadenhouse in that 
 familiar way, Babs," her mother admonished her. 
 
 " Oh, all right, mother," said Babs, not a bit abashed. 
 " I'll call him ' Good Lord ' if he likes. Potatoes, Ben- 
 son ; nobody seems hungry but me. I say, my Lord 
 Marquis, what shall 1 call your lordship ? You do look 
 nice with that shadow of a smile on your lips. Do you 
 know I like your face awfully. What may I call you, 
 Cadenhouse ?" 
 
 " I know what Lord Cadenhouse will call you," said 
 Miss Kingconstance. 
 
 96
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Something nice, as befits his knightliness, I'm sure," 
 Babs rattled on. " My Lord Cadenhouse, thou shalt be 
 mine own true knight, and thou wilt, and I'll give thee 
 a cuff on the visage to wear in token of the same when 
 I have an opportunity." 
 
 * Babs, 1 wish you wouldn't gabble on so," Mrs. King- 
 constance remonstrated. " You talk perfect nonsense." 
 
 " Even the perfection of nonsense is not to be heard 
 every day," said Babs, turning her attention to the side- 
 board. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance smiled, proud mother, indulgent 
 at Cadenhouse. 
 
 " What a lovely day for the Normantons' party !" 
 Julia remarked. 
 
 " Oh yes. By-the-way," said Mrs. Kingconstance, 
 " are you coming, Lorraine ?" 
 
 " I've not decided," her sister-in-law replied ; " but if 
 I go, I shall drive myself there." 
 
 " Then which of you children will come with me ?" 
 Mrs. Kingconstance asked. 
 
 " I won't," said Babs. 
 
 " That's fiat," said Montacute. 
 
 " I cannot call it polite," his mother observed. 
 
 * 'Polergize," said Babs. " When I'm a young lady 
 I'll go to garden-parties and ' at homes,' but not now. 
 My youth preserves me !" 
 
 " Babs doesn't like parties," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 somewhat superfluously explained to Cadenhouse in 
 plaintive tones. 
 
 " No, I don't," said Babs. " It's all dilly-dally-dawdle, 
 and nobody at their nicest." 
 
 " Is it altogether their fault if they take no notice of 
 you ?" Julia asked, suavely. 
 
 " They take too much notice of me," Babs answered. 
 " That's what I complain of, because it is not to please 
 me that they do it. Nobody wants to please anybody. 
 G 97
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Everybody wants to make up to somebody more impor- 
 tant than themselves. They begin with me when they 
 want to arrive at mamma. Isn't it so, Aunt Lorraine ?" 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance smiled significantly and shrug- 
 ged her shoulders. 
 
 "I can't stand that kind of thing," Babs pursued. " If 
 people want to know me, they must know me for myself ; 
 they must be nice to me because it's right to be nice, and 
 they must be nice to every deserving person in my 
 neighborhood. Unkindness gets into the atmosphere, 
 I think ; I always shrivel up when somebody else is 
 snubbed, and somebody is always being snubbed here- 
 abouts. I do hate the inhumanity of the county not 
 of the smart people so much they don't count ; but of 
 the pious people." 
 
 " Don't say ' shrivel up/ Babs," her mother remon- 
 strated. " You do use such strange expressions. I can- 
 not think where you get them. Lady May was talking 
 only the other day about the deplorable deterioration of 
 young people in regard to their language. She says 
 she hears nothing now but slang." 
 
 " Then I dare say she speaks the truth for once," said 
 Babs. " Everybody knows she's gone gray in her ef- 
 forts to get into the slangiest set in the country. She 
 was born among the pious people, but she would be born 
 again into the smart set ; and the smart set would not 
 let her in quite, and the pious people wouldn't have her 
 back, so now she is nothing but a hoverer on the out- 
 side edge of both sets, and she only sees enough of each 
 to excite her ire." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance sighed. 
 
 " There is something in atmosphere," she said. " I 
 am thinking of what Babs was saying about unkind- 
 ness getting into the atmosphere. To-day there is a 
 strange sense of peace." 
 
 Cadenhouse looked at her thoughtfully. 
 
 98
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Is there really such a thing as moral atmosphere ?" 
 she pursued. 
 
 " So it is said," Cadenhouse rejoined. 
 
 " But what is it ?" 
 
 "An atmosphere composed of good thoughts/' he sug- 
 gested. " I have heard it argued that thoughts are 
 things, and also that thought is creative." 
 
 " Then if that be so," she concluded, " one might 
 easily conceive that when our thoughts are pleasant, 
 all around us there will be a space of pleasantness and 
 peace; but if they are unpleasant, every one in our 
 near neighborhood will suffer discomfort." 
 
 " But isn't it so ?" said Cadenhouse. " Get several 
 unpleasant-minded people together, and see how they 
 upset you. If you lived with such people long enough 
 your health and spirits would be both impaired. The 
 first germ of disease was propagated in a malicious mind 
 by an evil thought." 
 
 " What a pity our doctors don't pursue that line of 
 research !" Miss Kingconstance exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, I say, Aunt Lorraine," said Babs, " how nice 
 you look, sitting up so, and all flushed." 
 
 Everybody looked at Miss Kingconstance. 
 
 " Really, this is embarrassing," she remonstrated. 
 
 But it was true that she looked well. Something was 
 rousing her out of her valetudinarian state and filling 
 her with new life. 
 
 " You do look well, dear," Mrs. Kingconstance said. 
 " Do you feel so ?" 
 
 " I am feeling that there is something to live for. A 
 novel sensation," Miss Kingconstance answered, ener- 
 getically. 
 
 " The word ' novel ' reminds me," said her inconse- 
 quent sister-in-law. " Can you recommend anything, 
 Cadenhouse ? new books, I mean." 
 
 " For yourself ?" he asked. 
 
 99
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Yes, and for the girls, too." 
 
 " Not for me," said Babs. " You'll not catch me read- 
 ing books." 
 
 " As if you could read anything else," said Julia. 
 
 " Don't be shallow, jeering Julia," Babs retorted. 
 " Have you never heard of reading the hearts of men ?" 
 
 The corners of Cadenhouse's mouth relaxed once 
 more. 
 
 " Come, come, children, don't be rude to each other," 
 Mrs. Kingconstance said. 
 
 " We're not rude, mamma," said Babs. " I'm always 
 explaining that. It's only our way of taking intellect- 
 ual exercise." 
 
 " Babs is going to set up for a wit," said Julia. 
 
 " What am I going to set up on, Julia ?" Babs asked. 
 * The haystack of your attempts that have failed ?" 
 
 " I think I hear the carriage, mamma," said Julia. 
 
 " Dear me 1" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed. 
 
 " Be calm, mamma," said Babs. " When you begin 
 to fuss there is such a disturbance in the moral atmos- 
 phere we are all upset." 
 
 " It really is time we dressed," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 said, looking at Cadenhouse apologetically. " I am 
 afraid we must go. It is quite a long drive. But per- 
 haps you are coming to the party ?" 
 
 " No," said Cadenhouse. " I regret er " 
 
 " Oh, all right, we know," said Babs. " That's just 
 the way I feel previous engagement, and that kind of 
 thing. But you are not going away yet. Come and 
 converse. I've heaps of things to say, and I want to 
 ask you questions. I love to converse, don't you ?" 
 
 " Don't worry Lord Cadenhouse, Babs," Mrs. King- 
 constance adjured her. 
 
 " Worry him, mamma ! Gracious, look at him ! If 
 he were not so haughty he'd be grinning. Wouldn't 
 you, Cadenhouse ?" 
 
 100
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Cadenhouse smiled, and Mrs. Kingconstance hurried 
 off, followed by Julia. Miss Kingconstance strolled 
 away, too ; the others had already disappeared. 
 
 " Now," said Babs, heaving a deep sigh, " where shall 
 we go, and what shall we talk about ? Come on to the 
 terrace, it's so fine." 
 
 He followed her out through the windows, and they 
 began to walk up and down together, he with his hands 
 clasped behind him, listening for the most part, she 
 swinging her arms and gesticulating as she talked. 
 
 " Not that it matters what we discuss," she pursued. 
 " The great thing is to keep on talking and looking at 
 each other, and smiling, and that sort of thing, don't 
 you know. You must feel pleasantly disposed towards 
 me, and I'll feel pleasantly disposed towards you ; and 
 then we shall be all right together. We shall be charg- 
 ing the moral atmosphere with a double dose of good 
 things all the time." 
 
 " That is the secret of social success," said Caden- 
 house. " How did you arrive at it, Babs ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she answered, casually. " It's 
 just come to me out of your moral atmosphere remarks, 
 I think." 
 
 " You must be a singularly apt pupil," he observed. 
 
 " Miss Minton wouldn't say so," she rejoined. " But 
 don't you try to teach me things. I don't want to learn. 
 I know already that two and two make four, but I don't 
 feel any the better for it." 
 
 " What do you mean by better ?" 
 
 " Can't say," said Babs. 
 
 " By ' can't say ' do you mean you don't know ?" 
 
 " No," she answered, decidedly. " In myself I know, 
 only I can't " She pulled some leaves from a shrub 
 and began to shred them to pieces, hesitating for a word. 
 
 " You can't express it," he suggested. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 101
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " The kind of thing my governess teaches me no, 
 not the things, not the facts themselves, but what she 
 wants me to think about the facts that's it, or as near as 
 I can come to it all that kind of teaching seems to put 
 out something else that I have in me which is much more 
 enthralling, much better worth cultivating, than my 
 mind. There's more pleasure in it, too, and more power. 
 When I hear of Henry VIII. and his wives, it only makes 
 me think horrid thoughts ; but when some one says 
 something like like 
 
 " ' For, while the tired waves, vainly breaking, 
 
 Seem here no painful inch to gain, 
 Far back, through creeks and inlets making, 
 Comes silent, flooding in, the main,' 
 
 I feel oh !" She hugged herself. " You don't see 
 much in that, perhaps ; but there is. There is infinity 
 in it. When it comes into my mind, I glow and am glad. 
 I expand. There is pleasure in every inch of me ; and 
 it is as if I filled out and grew bigger, so that there might 
 be more inches of me to be resolved into bliss. And why ? 
 Not for the words themselves, certainly, but for what 
 they contain." 
 
 " How do you mean, Babs ?" 
 
 " What there is in them, you know," she answered. 
 
 " But what is there in them ?" 
 
 " Why, man, there is hope in them, isn't there ?" She 
 opened wide blue eyes upon him, as though amazed that 
 she should have to tell him. " I suppose you know what 
 hope is ?" she inquired, ironically. 
 
 " It is something different in each case," he answered. 
 " How do you define it ?" 
 
 "As a foretaste, for one thing," she answered. " It is 
 our first glimmering of good things in store for us ; it is 
 pleasant expectation. No one can be quite wretched 
 who has something to look forward to. But it doesn't 
 
 102
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 last long, does it ? I wish it did hope, I mean. It so 
 soon becomes certainty, because of that something else, 
 you know, in one's self in myself, which, when I great- 
 ly desire anything, gives me an assurance makes me 
 know whether I shall get it or not. But sometimes it 
 keeps me in suspense," she qualified, " because I cannot 
 command it." 
 
 " What is it like, Babs that ' something else ' T 
 Cadenhouse asked, greatly interested. 
 
 Babs looked out afar, as if to the horizon ; but Caden- 
 house saw that it was the inward vision that shone in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " It has to do with tokens, signs, wonders, premoni- 
 tions, and such like foolishness, as people call it. And 
 there is, besides, the voice the voice that speaks to me 
 hire," she clasped her hands on her chest " here, in 
 myself, directing me." 
 
 They took a turn in silence. 
 
 " Babs," said Cadenhouse, at last, impressively 
 " Babs, do you know that those whom that voice ad- 
 dresses are called to be of the elect ?" 
 
 " I know nothing," said Babs. " But those are the 
 things that I want to know. I want to know about 
 this pleasure, and this power this something in 
 me. Is it to be cultivated ? Can I get at it to con- 
 trol it ?" 
 
 " Of a surety." 
 
 " How T 
 
 " By self-denial, by teaching, by training, by leading 
 the life. But you are too young, Babs," he broke off. 
 " By-and-by, when you are older, you shall hear more 
 of these things." 
 
 " But if I lead the life, will all that cease to be vague 
 and elusive ?" 
 
 "All that, I promise you, will become as clear as 
 the piece of knowledge you scoffed at just now the 
 
 103
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 fact that two and two make four. But I must leave 
 you ; it is getting late." 
 
 " No, no/' she pleaded. " Do stay do tell me more." 
 
 She clasped her hands round his arm in her eagerness 
 to detain him, and raised her angelic face to his. 
 
 Cadenhouse hastily disengaged his arm and fled. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance had come out onto the terrace 
 in time to witness this last little scene. 
 
 " St. Anthony 1" she said. 
 
 Babs retired to the library to look up St. Anthony in 
 order to make out the purport of the allusion. 
 
 104
 
 1W 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 [EANWHILE Julia and her mother drove through 
 the balmy country lanes to Normanton. The 
 cold spring had advanced to early summer sud- 
 denly. The fruit trees were in blossom, and 
 the birds were singing blithely. 
 
 " Mamma," said Julia, " is Lord Cadenhouse in love 
 with Babs ?" 
 
 " My dear child, Babs is not yet out of the school- 
 room !" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed. There was a 
 look of complacency on her face, however, when she 
 had spoken, which showed that the suggestion was not 
 unpleasant. 
 
 " How do you know when a man is in love with you, 
 mamma ?" 
 
 " Oh, he tells you." 
 
 " How does he tell you ?" 
 
 " Really, Julia " Mrs. Kingconstance quite blushed. 
 
 " I suppose you understand him, at all events, when 
 the time comes," Julia put in, to make it easier for her 
 mother. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes ! There is no mistaking a man in that 
 mood." 
 
 " I am glad of that. Because, if a man proposed to 
 me a really good match, you know and I didn't un- 
 derstand, and drove him away, as they do in the books 
 sometimes, I should be horridly disgusted." 
 
 The carriage swept up the drive to Normanton Hall 
 and set them down under the pillared portico. Several 
 
 105
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 other carriages were standing about empty. It seemed 
 as if the whole county had already arrived, and the 
 house was overflowing ; for the genial weather was 
 tempting the people out into the grounds, and they were 
 making a garden-party of it. As usual at all such gath- 
 erings thereabouts, there was a depressing preponder- 
 ance of ladies. A sprinkling of youths not old enough 
 to count as yet, and a few elderly gentlemen of superan- 
 nuated design, who were looked upon as institutions 
 rather than as men by the ladies, did their best to leaven 
 the monotonous femininity of the assembly, and with 
 unwonted success, as it seemed, for the animation that 
 prevailed was extraordinary. The countenances of the 
 ladies beamed. Even the dullest perked about, talking 
 to each other with a faint display of interest, just as 
 they do at parties on the stage. Only one stimulus 
 could cause such a stir in that forlorn feminine commu- 
 nity, but it would have been hard for a new-comer to 
 determine the source of it, so sedulously did the ladies 
 confine their attentions to each other and restrain their 
 glances from wandering. Fanny Sturdy was making 
 Florence Japp laugh immoderately just as the Dane 
 Court carriage pulled up, and Ally Spice, in gray and 
 blue, looking ineffable, twittered about conspicuously. 
 It should have done everybody's heart good to see a fel- 
 low-creature in such a state of bliss, but some of the 
 dolorous dowagers who drank Miss Spice's tea and ate 
 her buttered toast when it suited their own convenience 
 and pleasure felt anything but pleased to see her so. 
 When she minueted up to them with her nervous smile 
 you would have thought she had taken a liberty. It 
 was all very well to ask her on these occasions, of course, 
 but it was quite another thing for her to expect to be 
 countenanced. From the younger ladies, however, in 
 whom hope of change was not yet extinguished, and 
 for whom life still seemed to contain some promise of 
 
 1 06
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 joy, Miss Spice was receiving the most exhilarating 
 consideration that day. It was her moment, and she 
 was enjoying it thoroughly. Florence Japp and Fanny 
 Sturdy took possession of her now. 
 
 "Ally, tell us about him do !" said Fanny Sturdy, 
 and then they tittered, all three of them, as at something 
 exceedingly whimsical. 
 
 Mr. Normanton hurried down the steps to hand Mrs. 
 Kingconstance from her carriage.. He was a red-faced, 
 fussy little man, a sort of as-it-was-in-the-beginning-is- 
 now-and-ever-shall-be little man, whose conversation 
 revolved in a cycle of commonplaces. All the days of 
 his life he had conducted himself like a decent country 
 gentleman, so far as anybody knew, and at night he 
 drank too much whiskey. 
 
 " How are you, Mrs. Kingconstance ?" he exclaimed, 
 with effusion. " So good of you to come ! Jolly day, 
 isn't it ? You'll find all your friends here. Take my 
 arm and come and have some tea. Jarvis, take Miss 
 Julia." 
 
 Julia looked anything but enthusiastic, for Jarvis 
 Normanton was only about twenty, and no great catch. 
 Somebody of maturer years and with fairer prospects 
 would have pleased her better. 
 
 The tea-rooms were crowded, and Mrs. Kingconstance 
 preferred to sit in the hall. There she became instantly 
 aware of the presence of a tall gentleman of distinguish- 
 ed appearance whom she did not recognize. 
 
 * Who is that ?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, you know," Mr Normanton replied, glancing 
 over his shoulder at him. " What's the fellow's name ? 
 Always forget it. Looks rather out of it, doesn't he ? 
 New to the neighborhood, you know hasn't met many 
 people yet. Interesting man seen a good deal. Shall 
 I introduce him ?" 
 
 Before Mrs. Kingconstance could reply, he had hur- 
 
 107
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ried away, and was returning with the distinguished- 
 looking stranger. 
 
 " Mrs. Kingconstance, let me introduce " Mumble, 
 mumble, was what followed ; but Mrs. Kingconstance 
 bowed graciously, and the salutation of the distinguish- 
 ed-looking stranger was profound. 
 
 " I have heard of Mrs. Kingconstance," he observed, 
 and Mrs. Kingconstance felt that volumes could not con- 
 vey all the admirable things concerning her that were 
 in his mind at the moment. 
 
 " Oh !" she said, archly. " I am afraid some one has 
 been creating a prejudice." 
 
 " Yes," he solemnly rejoined ; ." a prejudice which has 
 made me long for this moment." 
 
 A pleasurable sensation laid hold of Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance. 
 
 " You have the advantage of me," she said, smiling 
 up at him brightly. 
 
 " Yes," he answered again, unexpectedly ; " I have 
 the privilege of making your acquaintance. To meet 
 me is to meet a mere nobody a poor traveller who has 
 seen something, certainly ; but what of that ? A man 
 may spend his life in seeking distraction, and may even 
 secure distinction ; but with what object ? He returns 
 to civilization, and, lo ! there is a beautiful woman ! She 
 has never left her home ; she has done nothing she 
 has no need to do anything ; she has only to be herself. 
 And all the man's honors are laid at her feet. He offers 
 them all to win a smile. May I take your cup ?" 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance surrendered the cup. 
 
 " Of course," she said, " it is exactly as you say for- 
 tunately for women. We have only to be ourselves." 
 
 "Ah !" the distinguished-looking stranger ejaculated, 
 and again he expressed volumes. But he was towering 
 above Mrs. Kingconstance as she sat there on a centre 
 ottoman, and there was awkwardness in the attitude. 
 
 1 08
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Won't you sit down ?" she said, considerately. 
 
 He bowed low, and then drew up a chair. 
 
 " I came from Paris last/' he observed. " What won- 
 derful people the French are ! You must go to France 
 for the refinements of life. Here we are rich, lavish, ex- 
 travagant. We have everything, but we have too much 
 of it. We gorge. Our houses are gorged with furni- 
 ture, our walls with pictures, our tables with flowers, 
 our shop windows with heterogeneous collections of in- 
 congruous articles ; and when we give a dinner, we 
 gorge our friends with foods and wines. The Japanese 
 offer you one picture at a time to contemplate, one flower. 
 The French provoke your appetite with one dish ; but 
 that dish is perfect you never forget it. You would 
 go back to Paris for the pleasure of eating it, and wait 
 for it till er till it was ready. It is in Paris you real- 
 ize what daintiness is, what refinement is in food. Each 
 plat has its own aesthetic value. Give us Paris, I say, 
 before we grow old Paris and a cordon bleu, Paris and 
 la haute cuisine the good things of this world, so as, in 
 due time, we may enjoy them." 
 
 He spoke slowly, rounding each word as if it were in 
 itself a delicious morsel to be swallowed as soon as pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 There was something highly exhilarating to Mrs. 
 Kingconstance in these allusions to the haute cuisine. 
 It was essentially the proper thing to discuss in connec- 
 tion with Paris, as seen by the affluent and cultivated. 
 To know what French cooking is was an introduction 
 in itself ; and Mrs. Kingconstance was so thoroughly 
 interested that she was about to become expansive, 
 when the stranger suddenly rose, excused himself, and 
 went direct to greet the gaunt, gray Lady May, who 
 had just entered the hall. 
 
 Other people came up and began to talk to Mrs. King- 
 constance, and she was obliged to respond to their atten- 
 
 109
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 tions ; but all they said fell very flat after the brilliant 
 remarks of the distinguished-looking stranger, and she 
 hoped that he would return to her. He did not, how- 
 ever. He took no more notice of her, in fact, and she 
 was somewhat piqued. It was so seldom she met a man 
 who was interesting, and this was evidently a thorough 
 man of the world. Paris, Japan, the haute cuisine he 
 might be an ambassador ! She must get him to call 
 upon her. 
 
 " How do you like Mr. Jellybond ?" Mrs Normanton 
 broke in upon her meditations. 
 
 " Oh, that was Mr. Jellybond, was it ?" said Mrs. King- 
 constance. " I'm so glad you've had such a delightful 
 day for your party. Where is Julia, I wonder ? It is 
 time we were going, is Miss Spice still here ? Ah, 
 there she is. Miss Spice, may I offer you a seat in my 
 carriage ?" 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Kingconstance," Miss Spice twittered, 
 excitedly, " you are too kind." 
 
 The poor little woman was quite overcome. In an- 
 other moment she would be whirled away before his ad- 
 miring eyes by prancing horses in a splendid carriage 
 her very dream. All her dreams were coming true at 
 once ! She had one moment's panic lest he should not 
 see her depart ; but there he was under the portico, wait- 
 ing to hand her them in. And how he bowed as they 
 drove off ! Three bows, one for each of them. Julia 
 never thought of giving up her seat beside her mother, 
 so poor little Miss Spice had to take the back seat ; but 
 that was an advantage, because she could see him stand- 
 ing there, with his heels clicked together, clasping his 
 hat to his heart, till the turn hid the house and him 
 from sight. 
 
 " How very kind of you !" she ejaculated once more, in 
 a happy flow of gratitude. 
 
 " Not at all," said Mrs. Kingconstance. " By-the-way, 
 
 no
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 what was it you were telling us the other day about Mr. 
 Jellybond ? You know him very well, don't you ?" 
 
 Miss Spice blushed, simpered, .and began ; and be- 
 fore they reached the cottage at the cross roads, Mrs. 
 Kingconstance was in possession of all that Miss Spice 
 knew, hoped, and suspected. 
 
 Miss Spice was too excited to go in when Mrs. King- 
 constance left her at the Cross Roads Cottage. She 
 waited at the garden gate till the carriage was out of 
 sight, and then she picked up her mouse-gray skirts be- 
 tween the finger and thumb of each hand, extended her 
 arms, and so seemed to sail away down the road which 
 led to the village. She did not know what possessed 
 her, but she felt she must take that road. 
 
 It was an enchanting scene. Low down on the hori- 
 zon the setting sun shone out, casting long shadows of 
 the old gnarled trees upon the grass, and changing the 
 heavy atmosphere of the late afternoon into a lumi- 
 nous green haze. There was a strange hush over the 
 land. Horses and oxen stood motionless in the fields, 
 and the birds were still. Miss Spice herself was the 
 only moving thing, and she felt as if the medium 
 which held her were something other than the air of 
 earth. She was in a tense state, a state of expectation. 
 Nothing that might have happened would have sur- 
 prised her ; only if nothing had happened would she 
 have been surprised. But something did happen ; for 
 presently, down the long lane, under the old elm-trees, 
 she saw her hero approaching. She felt that the world 
 stood still in suspense to see them meet. 
 
 He took off his hat and held it high to greet her. 
 
 "Ah, dear lady," he said, " what a happy coincidence ! 
 The world is not such a weary place as the dolorous mis- 
 anthropes would have us suppose. I was just thinking 
 about you." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Miss Spice. 
 
 in
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Yes. But permit me to accompany you back. " Miss 
 Spice turned about as on a pivot. " Your way the way 
 you came is much sweeter than my way. Now is it 
 not a strange coincidence that we should both have 
 come out for a little stroll this evening ? I wanted to 
 see you. I was on my way to call upon you. But how 
 much better this is to meet here in the untrammelled 
 open. It is an ill wind that blows er nowhere. You 
 enjoyed the party ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed." 
 
 "And the drive home with that lady, Mrs. er " 
 
 " Mrs. Kingconstance." 
 
 " Thank you, yes. I remember now Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance. A widow, is she not ?" 
 
 " Yes, in her own right," said Miss Spice. " I mean " 
 
 She did not know what she meant. 
 
 The path was narrow. The evening was closing in. 
 Mr. Jellybond looked about him. There was nobody in 
 sight. 
 
 " You must be fatigued," he said. " Take my arm." 
 
 Without waiting for her consent, he drew her hand 
 through his arm in a masterful way, and held it 
 there. 
 
 Miss Spice nearly swooned. Then she was conscious 
 of a delicious glow. The firm clasp of his large hand 
 stimulated her feeble circulation. She had begun life 
 with a healthy appetite for everything, and had suf- 
 fered from enforced abstinence, from semi-starvation of 
 every function and every faculty. But now, in a mo- 
 ment, she felt alive for once only too much alive. She 
 was intoxicated, irresponsible. 
 
 They walked on together in silence for a little, then he 
 gave her hand a little squeeze. 
 
 " I suppose you discussed the people and the party all 
 the way home ?" he observed. 
 
 " We discussed one person," she answered, archly. 
 
 112
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 "Ah ! Was there only one worth discussing ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 She smiled up at him. He was holding his head high 
 in the air, as usual, but saw her out of the corner of 
 his eye. Little Miss Spice was transfigured. Her 
 nerves had helped themselves to his vitality, her youth 
 was renewed. For the moment she was worth looking 
 at, and Mr. Jellybond smiled down upon her. 
 
 " Were you defending the luckless stranger against 
 a prejudiced person in your own sweet womanly way ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " There was no need to defend," said Miss Spice. " I 
 had only to satisfy natural interest. Every prejudice 
 has been swept away by the stranger's own charming 
 personality." 
 
 " I fear it was curiosity, not interest, the lady showed," 
 he said, sadly. " It is hard to be misunderstood." 
 
 " Oh no, I assure you," said little Miss Spice, eager 
 to console. " She said something something about an 
 acquisition to the neighborhood she did, indeed. She 
 hopes to see you again." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond surveyed the heavens. 
 
 " How sweet the shade is here, under the trees !" he 
 ejaculated ; " and how sweet the evening calm ! It 
 steals over us, drawing us closer." He put his arm 
 round her and pressed her to his side. "Ah 1" he sigh- 
 ed audibly. 
 
 Miss Spice's head sank upon his shoulder. This was 
 love at last. 
 
 Once more, cautiously, the dear man looked round, 
 and then, the coast being clear, he raised her little, glori- 
 fied face to his, and imprinted a kiss on her lips. 
 H 113
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HESITANCY was not one of Mr. Jellybond's 
 weaknesses. The very next day he called at 
 Dane Court, and was shown into the big draw- 
 ing-room. The sun shone bright outside, but 
 the room was shady, with half-drawn blinds, and there 
 was no one in it. It was a fine apartment one of a 
 suite, from which it was curtained off. Mr. Jellybond 
 looked about him admiringly ; then, as no one appeared, 
 he began to walk about on tiptoe a way he had ex- 
 amining and peeping into everything, but more like an 
 auctioneer appraising the value than a virtuoso admir- 
 ing the beauty of the objects. He touched the frames 
 of pictures, studied the signatures of the artists who had 
 painted them, rather than the subjects, ran his fingers 
 lightly down china vases r balanced bits of lacquer to 
 test their weight, took off the lids of boxes and peered 
 in, and felt the texture of the rich silk hangings ; and 
 all with incredible speed and agility, considering his age 
 and size. Ordinarily he moved with extreme delibera- 
 tion, but during these first few minutes alone in the 
 great drawing-room at Dane Court he skipped about 
 like a school-boy, and the effect was pleasantly incon- 
 gruous. 
 
 Presently he became conscious of some movement in 
 the next apartment, and stopped short in his gambols. 
 He was extremely watchful by nature, and even slight 
 commotions, which other people would not have no- 
 ticed, seldom escaped him. Being near a picture hung 
 
 114
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 low on the wall, he instantly fell into the attitude of a 
 connoisseur, and, stooping, peered into it through his 
 double gold-rimmed eyeglass with rapt attention. But 
 his ears were open. It would be more accurate, how- 
 ever, to say that he felt rather than heard the faint frou- 
 frou of trailing drapery, and became aware of a leisurely 
 footfall. With an easy, natural gesture, as if he had 
 satisfied his interest in the picture, he folded his eye- 
 glass and turned round. He had expected to see Mrs. 
 Kingconstance, but found himself face to face with a 
 tall, slight, elegant lady in fawn-colored draperies who 
 was eying him critically. Mr. Jellybond was unpre- 
 pared for this vision. He had not heard of Miss King- 
 constance. But Miss Kingconstance had heard a good 
 deal about him, and was prepared to be favorably im- 
 pressed. 
 
 One of the saddest parts of the sufferings of women so 
 situated women, that is to say, without one solid aim 
 or satisfying occupation in life is the cruel ache of ex- 
 pectancy that chronically besets them. Their days are 
 empty, and all their yearnings unappeased. The strong- 
 est side of their nature, being artificially suppressed, be- 
 comes an importunate agitator, always on the lookout 
 for occasions on which to assert itself ; and any man 
 may make the occasion Their hope is therefore tow- 
 ards every man who may chance to come into their lives. 
 Poor little Miss Spice was bound to succumb to the first 
 who held his arms out to her. She was incapable of 
 criticism. Her nature was largely loving, her faith and 
 charity were excessive, her knowledge of life nil. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance was of another temperament. 
 Miss Spice, by making peace-offerings of her amiable 
 little heart to everybody about her, had reaped the re- 
 ward of those who give, and so kept her mind sweet and 
 wholesome ; the ache of expectancy she eased with 
 pleasant day-dreams, in which was never a villain. Miss
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Kingconstance had no such resource. The life of sup- 
 pression had told upon the softer side of her nature and 
 embittered her. She had ceased to care ; she found no 
 solace either in loving or in being loved ; all her heart 
 was concentrated on a great craving for she knew not 
 what, and because this great craving was unappeased 
 she felt herself an ill-used woman, and was more apt to 
 owe a grudge than to offer affection. Her self-con- 
 sciousness, grown morbid, was forever on the alert, 
 looking into other people's defects, and suspecting them 
 of evil intent towards herself. But it was this survival 
 of her critical faculty that saved her from the danger 
 which threatened Miss Spice. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance might hope to find her hero in 
 every man she met, but she was not to be imposed upon 
 by mock heroics, even when, as in the case of Mr. Jelly- 
 bond, she was prepared to be favorably impressed. 
 
 Her first impression of him was not unsatisfactory ; 
 he was really a fine-looking man of a portly kind, clean 
 shaven, and of dignified demeanor. He was dressed 
 like a country gentleman, only the costume, if any- 
 thing, was too scrupulously exact. He looked like a 
 country gentleman on the stage, everything he wore 
 was so exceedingly correct. 
 
 He bowed low to Miss Kingconstance. She acknowl- 
 edged the salute stiffly, then sank into a chair. 
 
 " Mr. Jelly bond ?" she observed. 
 
 " Yes, madam," he rejoined, bowing again profound- 
 ly ; then, in the hope of discovering who she was, he 
 remarked : " You have the advantage of me, if 1 may 
 venture to say so." 
 
 " Yes, "she answered, in her languid drawl, still fixing 
 him with hard eyes. " Sit down, please." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond obeyed. 
 
 A pause ensued. 
 
 When one is with a stranger to whom one ought to be 
 
 116
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 talking, silence teases the brain ; it is an effort to break 
 it, and tiresome to let it continue. But Mr. Jellybond 
 cast about in his mind vainly for something to say. He 
 was in the awkward position of not knowing where he 
 was with this strange lady. She came to the rescue. 
 
 " How do you find it here ?" she said. " Can you keep 
 yourself quiet ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, thank you tolerably/' he stammered. 
 
 " That's right" she said. " Quiet is my mania just 
 now. Every sound gets on .my nerves even the grit 
 of my own teeth, when 1 crunch anything crisp. 1 wish 
 we could inhale our dinners." 
 
 " Indeed/' said he, with an air of deep interest, but 
 utterty at a loss. 
 
 " You take me too seriously /'said Miss Kingconstance. 
 " Couldn't you see that that was nonsense ? Is no- 
 body ever flippant in your family ?" 
 
 "Ah, in my family/' he answered, solemnly, then 
 sighed, preparatory to trying the tactics which had suc- 
 ceeded so well with the guileless Miss Spice. * In my 
 family there were circumstances sorrowful circum- 
 stances, 1 may say which effectually silenced " 
 
 * Well, don't silence me with them," Miss Kingcon- 
 stance interrupted. " 1 want to hear about agreeable 
 things. Tell me about yourself. What does a man's 
 family matter, after all ?" 
 
 " Quite so," said Mr. Jellybond. * Personal experi- 
 ence is the most instructive " 
 
 * Oh, don't instruct me/' said Miss Kingconstance. 
 " 1 want to be amused." 
 
 He set a large smile upon his face, and braced him- 
 self to the task. 
 
 " Seeing you as you are now," said Miss Kingcon- 
 stance, " makes me think of a passage in Browning." 
 
 He looked gratified. 
 
 " Yes," Miss Kingconstance proceeded : 
 
 117
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " 'Oh, good, gigantic smile o' the brown old earth 
 This autumn morning.'" 
 
 All the complacency went out of Mr. Jellybond's 
 face. 
 
 " What an extinguisher !" said Miss Kingconstance. 
 " 1 want to know why it is, when one is reminded of a 
 quotation by a person, and says so, the person always 
 expects something nice ?" 
 
 " 1 wonder," was all that his elephantine wit accom- 
 plished. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance laughed. 
 
 " You missed an opportunity there," she said. 
 
 " Indeed," said Mr. Jelly bond, feeling more and more 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 " Yes ; you should have risen to the occasion with 
 another quotation. You should have said reproach- 
 fully that, had you told me what passage / reminded 
 you of, it would have been something very different. 
 Then 1 should have pressed you to tell me, and, after a 
 little coquettish diffidence, you might have said that 1 
 inspired 
 
 "'The desire of the moth for the star, 
 
 Of the night for the morrow, 
 The devotion to something afar 
 From the sphere of our sorrow.' 
 
 or something to that effect." 
 
 " Oh, really, yes," said Mr. Jellybond, busy making a 
 mental note of the position for future emergencies. 
 
 " There you are again," said Miss Kingconstance, 
 leaning back in her chair and laughing softly. "That's 
 another opportunity lost !" 
 
 " 1 fail to see " Mr. Jellybond began, in his most pon- 
 derous manner. 
 
 " Oh, obviously 1" said Miss Kingconstance. " Why, 
 my good man, when 1 made that quotation, you could 
 
 1 1 8,
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 have remedied your first mistake with three words. 
 When 1 had suggested to you that 1 inspired 
 
 "' ' The devotion to something afar 
 From the sphere of our sorrow," 
 
 you had only to answer with a convincing affectation of 
 earnestness, ' So you do !' and behold your error re- 
 paired. 1 should have smiled coyly at the compliment, 
 and cordially at your aptness. Aptness is inspiriting. 
 The bucolic mind to which we are accustomed here is 
 not apt to gambol. 1 am asking myself what on earth 
 brought you here ?" 
 
 " My life has been eventful/' he answered. " 1 seek 
 peace and quietness, and leisure for study and the pur- 
 suit of art." 
 
 " Green-grocers, when they have made their money, 
 come into the country to cultivate contentment and cab- 
 bages," Miss Kingconstance pursued, ignoring the in- 
 terruption. " But you were not a green-grocer, 1 should 
 say. Now what were you ?" 
 
 "A great traveller," he answered, with a ring of sad- 
 ness in his voice. " I came from going to and fro in the 
 earth and from wandering up and down in it." 
 
 " Only, 1 suppose, you went for commercial purposes?" 
 said Miss Kingconstance. 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" said Mr. Jelly bond. 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond, at a loss for a reason, uttered a pained 
 ejaculation. 
 
 " You make a noise like a wondering hen," said Miss 
 Kingconstance. " But there, 1 won't torment you. 1 
 quite understand about your having been a great trav- 
 eller ; nobody could call you a little one ; and on the 
 same principle you will be a great acquisition to the 
 neighborhood, as my sister-in-law says. You will make 
 amusement for me, too. My wits are always at their 
 
 119
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 best when 1 have a solid substance to strike them on. 
 You positively make me sparkle." 
 
 The words were light, but there was a bored look in 
 her face as she uttered them, and she glanced round 
 as if she were casting about in her own mind for an ex- 
 cuse to escape. 
 
 A footman entered at the moment, and announced 
 that Mrs. Kingconstance would be pleased to see Mr. 
 Jellybond if he would " be good enough to step this 
 way." 
 
 He arose with alacrity. 
 
 " You certainly are no courtier/' Miss Kingconstance 
 observed. 
 
 Perceiving that he had failed for the third time to rise 
 to the occasion, he bowed low before her, looked into her 
 face a moment sourly, then followed the footman out of 
 the room in dignified silence. It was a clever exit, and 
 Miss Kingconstance appreciated it. His very coat-tails 
 waggled with offended dignity. She felt that she had 
 gone too far, and was disconcerted. His self-restraint 
 commanded her respect whether she would or not. " But 
 1 don't believe in you, all the same," she reflected, pet- 
 ulantly, " and why you are being received in the bou- 
 doir, the inner sanctum reserved for intimates you, -a 
 new-comer, whom nobody knows anything about as 
 yet I cannot conceive. My dear sister-in-law, you 
 should be more circumspect." 
 
 In the boudoir a very different reception awaited Mr. 
 Jellybond. The cosey richness of the room, with its 
 silken draperies, deep-seated easy-chairs, great down 
 cushions, pictures, china, ormolu, and buhl, all aglow 
 in the cheery light of a scented cedar-wood fire, and the 
 handsome lady's cordial greeting set him at his ease 
 at once. This was luxury at last, the kind of luxury 
 to which he had always aspired high-bred, perfect 
 
 120
 
 " ' YOU ARE QUITE A PALMIST ' "
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 the real thing ! Mrs. Kingconstance saw admiration 
 in his face, deep and reverential ; she saw also that he 
 was a fine-looking man under fifty, and she glowed as 
 she had not glowed for years. 
 
 The conversation was all smiles. In a very short 
 time Mrs. Kingconstance was absolutely flirting, and 
 she knew it, and liked it, naughty lady ! The mere 
 presence of this burly stranger, from out of the un- 
 known, animated her more than all the homage she had 
 ever received from the county gentlemen round about. 
 They proceeded to discuss many good things, including 
 good cooking. Mr. Jellybond professed to be an excel- 
 lent cook. Mrs. Kingconstance really could not be- 
 lieve it. He offered to cook a little dinner in her honor 
 one day to prove it any day she would fix if she would 
 deign to visit his small abode. Glancing round he per- 
 ceived that she was fond of pretty things, and he had 
 some few pretty things himself objets d'art which he 
 would venture to say might interest her. 
 
 But now, really, could he cook ? How had he learned 
 it? 
 
 " 1 think every gentleman should know how to cook," 
 he answered, playfully. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance used her beautiful hands a good 
 deal in talking, and Mr. Jellybond's eyes rested on them 
 incessantly. She could not help observing this. The 
 fixity of his gaze positively embarrassed her at last, and 
 she sought modestly to make her hands less conspicuous 
 by folding them. 
 
 "Ah, that is unkind," he said, then he sighed heavily. 
 " Shall 1 tell you why I cannot take my eyes off your 
 hands? You would never guess the reason. It is not 
 because they are so beautiful that one can see at a 
 glance ; it is not because they are kind, although 1 am sure 
 they are kind ; it is not for the mesmeric quality there 
 so often is in a beautiful woman's hands ; it is because 
 
 121
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 they are exactly the same shape as my mother's were. 
 She was a very lovely woman, exquisitely proportioned 
 I may say it without offence, 1 hope and your hand 
 exactly resembles hers " 
 
 " How strange !" said Mrs. Kingconstance, much 
 touched. 
 
 " Exactly, so far as 1 can see. May I look at the palm?" 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance held out her soft pink palm with 
 a coy little smile. Mr. Jellybond gazed into it. 
 
 "The lines, so far as 1 can see, are not similar," he 
 observed ; " but may 1 just " 
 
 " Oh, certainly," she answered, with an affectation of 
 not being affected about it. 
 
 He took her hand in his, respectfully, squeezed it to- 
 gether to make one line clearer, opened it out to see 
 another. 
 
 " You are quite a palmist," said Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 "Do tell me my fate!" 
 
 " N-no, 1 am not a palmist not quite," he answered. 
 " 1 only know enough to see something unusual in your 
 hand. 1 cannot tell what it is. 1 should very much like 
 to know." 
 
 He clasped her hand in both of his, and held it so, 
 absently. 
 
 " So should 1," said Mrs. Kingconstance, making a 
 feint to withdraw it and blushing. 
 
 He bent towards her and lowered his voice confiden- 
 tially, taking a firm grip of her hand as though to em- 
 phasize his words. 
 
 " 1 know a palmist," he said, " an excellent one." 
 
 " Oh, do you ?" she ejaculated, making another little 
 move to withdraw her hand. 
 
 He opened it and looked into it again. 
 
 " Of course it is great nonsense," he declared ; " but I 
 should so like to know what these lines mean. I have 
 something of the same kind in my own hand." 
 
 122
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Have you really ?" said Mrs. Kingconstance. " Of 
 course one doesn't believe in that kind of thing ; but 
 just for fun, you know." 
 
 " Oh, quite so just for fun/' he echoed. 
 
 Then he restored her hand to her. 
 
 " Where does your palmist live ?" she inquired. 
 
 " I hardly know, but if I come across her " 
 
 " Let me know, just for fun." 
 
 They smiled at each other again, confidentially, and 
 Mrs. Kingconstance stroked her own hand. The poor 
 thing felt quite out in the cold, somehow, since it had 
 been restored to her. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance continued to smile long after Mr. 
 Jellybond withdrew. She walked up and down the 
 room reflecting, and several times she stopped and looked 
 at herself in a mirror, and patted her beautiful abundant 
 black hair with the palms of her hands, and felt well 
 pleased with herself. 
 
 And Mr. Jellybond was also well pleased. 
 
 123
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE immediate consequence of Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance's cordiality was that doors which would 
 have been obstinately shut to Mr. Jelly bond, and 
 others which would have been only half-opened, 
 were flung wide, and he found himself received without 
 suspicion into the best set in the county. Thereupon he 
 blossomed forth magnificently. The Swiss Cottage be- 
 came a show-place, and it was as if the vale itself had 
 expanded to make room for it, so much space did it occupy 
 in the estimation of every one. In general conversation 
 even Cadenhouse became a secondary subject, all the 
 interest being concentrated on Mr. Jellybond ; his ap- 
 pearance, so suggestive of the grand manner ; his habits, 
 which were said to be highly refined ; and his house, 
 which rumor filled, furnished, and decorated with every 
 evidence of the most fastidious taste, as taste was under- 
 stood in the neighborhood. It is true that there were 
 gentlemen who spoke of him as " that fellow Jeltybond " 
 in a patronizing way, and also as the " gorgeous Jelly- 
 bond " sarcastically, behind his back ; t>ut there was a 
 certain dignity about the man, due to his fine appearance 
 and grave demeanor, which effectually checked any in- 
 clination to take liberties when he was present. Ladies, 
 who would certainly have tried to make him useful in 
 the tame-cat capacity but for his impressive mien, found 
 themselves forced to respect him. To all women, in pub- 
 lic, his manner was reverential, but in private well, he 
 had acquired the art of answering to expectation. He 
 
 124
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 knew just how to make himself agreeable. Sometimes 
 he was at a loss, as in the case of Miss Kingconstance ; 
 but his extreme natural caution saved him from making 
 mistakes, and as a rule he succeeded with quite opposite 
 characters, just as he had succeeded with Miss Spice 
 and Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 
 On his way back from that first visit to Dane Court he 
 overtook Miss Spice. After that little episode the evening 
 before, she had naturally expected him to come and see 
 her, and had waited at home the whole afternoon in a 
 delightful state of agitation. She felt herself as good 
 as engaged to him already, but the words had yet to 
 be spoken. She did not doubt, however, but that they 
 would be spoken in the course of that happy day, and at 
 first she was all in a blissful tremor. She spent the 
 morning at the lattice, as is the way with love-lorn ladies, 
 and felt that all was as it should be ; but as the slow 
 hours slipped round ; her mind misgave her. Late in the 
 afternoon, however, Florence Japp came in and men- 
 tioned that she had met him, and he had told her that he 
 was on his way to pay a duty call at Dane Court. That 
 saved the situation so far as Miss Spice's feelings were 
 concerned. Of course he must do his duty. When 
 Florence JappTiad gone, she went out herself and loitered 
 along the road by which he must return, and tried to feel 
 as she had felt the evening before ; but, somehow, all 
 was altered. The days succeed but do not resemble 
 each other. Yesterday her fondest hopes had been un- 
 expectedly realized, but to-day nothing was as it should 
 have been, and her heart sank. 
 
 Then there was a step a firm, leisurely step. She 
 thought she would have recognized it among a thousand. 
 At first she was for running away, but her strength 
 failed her, and she stopped short. 
 
 "Ally," he said, coming up to her, and lifting her little 
 cold hand from her side. 
 
 125
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She looked up into his face, and again her own was 
 transfigured. His impulse was to kiss her, but he re- 
 frained. He half regretted the simple indiscretion of the 
 evening before ; but it was a habit of his to caress women 
 when they looked nice ; he really could not help it. 
 
 " Dear little Ally !" he said, squeezing her hand. 
 " May I call you so ? Ah, me ! Things might have 
 been very different. But let us make the best of the life 
 that is left us. I need say no more, I know. You un- 
 derstand my horror of the obvious ?" 
 
 Miss Spice thought that she understood. 
 
 " Wait," he proceeded; " that is what I have to say to 
 you." 
 
 So Miss Spice waited. She was the stepping-stone by 
 which he had mounted into good society, and at first he 
 was quite assiduous in his attentions to her so much so, 
 indeed, as to give her good reason to believe that it would 
 be her own fault if she did not eventually become mistress 
 of the Swiss Cottage. But he began of necessity to 
 neglect Miss Spice as soon as his footing at Dane Court 
 was thoroughly assured. He had so many irons in the 
 fire by that time he could not attend to them all ; and he 
 judged that Miss Spice was the one which was the least 
 likely to become dangerously overheated. 
 
 Unfortunately, Miss Spice did not perceive that she 
 was being neglected. He was always exceedingly 
 gracious to her when they met, and would even toy with 
 her a little in secluded spots in an absent way, as if from 
 a sense of duty. Most women wou!3 have been galled 
 by such caresses, but they were sufficient for Miss Spice. 
 She never suspected that he could have caressed her 
 without returning her passion, and she mistook his 
 coldness for respect. She was entirely under the in- 
 fluence of tales of knights and dames of yore, and sought 
 to model her own conduct and to account for his by what 
 
 126
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 she knew of theirs under similar circumstances. She 
 expected him to be in proper lover-like awe of her for the 
 most part, and also to forget himself now and then, as on 
 that first never-to-be-forgotten occasion ; and she knew 
 that she should conduct herself with strictest maidenly 
 reserve whatever happened. In that respect she felt 
 that she had been remiss. She had made a mistake ; 
 she had allowed him to hope too soon, and, as a natural 
 result, he had shown no impatience. She must repair 
 that error. She must simulate indifference until, unable 
 to support the turmoil of his feelings any longer, and 
 determined to know the worst even though it should be 
 the death of him, he would fall on his knees before her, 
 and, with outstretched hands, confess his burning 
 passion, and implore her pity. Then, and not till then, 
 she would shyly confess that she, too, loved. What 
 would follow upon this momentous disclosure she did not 
 quite know. Should she fall into his arms overcome 
 with emotion, or should she run from the room with her 
 long ringlets streaming behind her ? The said ringlets 
 were neither so long nor so thick as Miss Spice sup- 
 posed, but by putting her head well back she could just 
 manage to make them touch the top of her waist-belt. 
 She assured herself of this fact many times a day 
 by shaking back her hair and feeling with her hand 
 behind her. The gesture threatened to become ha- 
 bitual. 
 
 In those days Miss Spice was happy in her dreams, 
 but she wanted one thing a confidant. Half the 
 pleasure of the position was lost to her for want of a sym- 
 pathetic friend with whom to discuss it. She knew that 
 caution was necessary ; betrayal might be fatal. Cun- 
 ning is strength to the weak. Little Miss Spice looked 
 about her. She thought of her good aunt, Mrs. Sophia 
 Pepper, who spent most of her time in the kitchen ; and 
 she yearned towards her, but hesitated, because that un- 
 
 127
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 compromising old lady had not the cast of countenance 
 which invites tender confidences. 
 
 " But surely, surely/' said Miss Spice to herself, " it is 
 most fitting that she should know. Is she not in the 
 position of a mother to me ?" 
 
 One day, accordingly, in a sudden paroxysm of hys- 
 terical sentiment, she flung her arms round the dear old 
 lady's neck and sobbed aloud : 
 
 " Oh, aunt, 1 love him ! 1 love him I" 
 
 Her aunt was as much astonished at the outburst as 
 Miss Spice could have wished. There was a dead silence 
 for some seconds, broken only by peculiar noises in the 
 old lady's throat. Miss Spice thought she was gasping 
 with emotion. 
 
 " Say something to comfort me, dear aunt," she twit- 
 tered. 
 
 " Comfort you?" the old lady retorted, tartly, in a chok- 
 ing voice. " I've a good mind to shake you. You near- 
 ly made me swallow my teeth." 
 
 And for an hour afterwards she grumbled and mut- 
 tered, calling her niece anything but clever, and quite 
 ignoring the ingenuous confession which had so nearly 
 put an end to her existence. 
 
 Miss Spice never dared to renew the attempt. 
 
 The cottage at the Cross Roads had no attraction for 
 Mr. Jellybond after he became intimate at Dane Court. 
 He knew the intrinsic value of its contents ; but he loved 
 luxury, warmth, and fatness, and hated spindle-shanks, 
 both in women and furniture ; so that poor little Miss 
 Spice, with her Sheraton and Chippendale, her self-de- 
 nying habits and person pinched for want of proper 
 food, rather repelled than allured him after Mrs. King- 
 constance, in ail the regal amplitude of her presence and 
 her surroundings. Still, he meant to be kind to little 
 Miss Spice it was his way to be kind to women ; he 
 prided himself upon that and he called at the cottage 
 
 128
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 pretty often. He paid one of his periodical visits soon 
 after Miss Spice had so signally failed to find a confi- 
 dant in her aunt. He permitted himself to call on Sun- 
 day, which nobody else was in the habit of doing there- 
 abouts, and Miss Spice concluded that he carne there in 
 the hope of finding her alone. She received him with 
 freezing politeness, and asked him to sit on the sofa. 
 She then retired to the other end of the room. The con- 
 versation naturally flagged at that distance, and pres- 
 ently Mr. Jelly bond gave it up altogether and relapsed 
 into silence. He was thinking of other things, but Miss 
 Spice thought he was affected by the cruelty of her con- 
 duct, and her mind misgave her. What if he had been 
 bent on having an explanation when he came in, but 
 had not the courage to face her while her attitude re- 
 mained so severe ? Miss Spice's little heart began to 
 palpitate with sudden determination. Should she lose 
 him altogether? No, a thousand times no ! She would 
 melt in time. She would deign to approach him. 
 
 " The weather seems to be gently breaking," Mr. Jelly- 
 bond said, solemnly. 
 
 Miss Spice thought he had seen signs in her counte- 
 nance of the approaching change in her demeanor, and 
 was alluding to it figuratively. She rose from her dis- 
 tant seat, and, above maidenly reserve, shook back her 
 tresses, fluttered across the room, and sank down on the 
 sofa at his side. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond bounced up. They were opposite the 
 window. Any one might pass and see them some one 
 had passed, in fact, for just at that moment Babs walked 
 in without knocking. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond greeted her with effusion, then hastily 
 took his leave. 
 
 Miss Spice raised her clasped hands to heaven when 
 he had gone, and ejaculated : 
 
 " Oh-h-h !" 
 i 129
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Between Miss Spice and Babs there was a curious in- 
 timacy. It was intermittent in its expression. Miss 
 Spice did not see Babs for months at a time ; then Babs 
 would begin to come again very often, and always alone, 
 and always, too, with something nice in a little basket 
 for Miss Spice, when she found she could manage it 
 that is to say, when she could abstract things from lunch- 
 eon and larder, or wheedle them out of the cook. She 
 was the only one of Miss Spice's many visitors who 
 ever thought of relieving her necessities. Babs loved 
 to give ; it was one of the ways she had of making a 
 good time for herself. She loved the kind people, too 
 the genuinely kind. They had an irresistible attrac- 
 tion for her, and she never failed to find them out 
 by intuition. Having found them, she imposed upon 
 them. 
 
 " What's the matter, Ally ?" she said. 
 
 Miss Spice shut her eyes, and saw her knight on his 
 knees before her. Another minute, and 
 
 " Ah 1" she moaned. " Ah, Babs, you little know 
 what you've done I" 
 
 " Eh ?" said Babs. 
 
 " Is not his a noble presence ?" Miss Spice pursued. 
 
 Whose ? Old J's ? That's the kind of thing he'd 
 say himself." 
 
 " Do 1 speak like him ?" Miss Spice implored to know. 
 
 " No, not exactly. It's more as if you were trying to 
 speak like him. 1 can't, either ; but Montacute does. 
 You should hear him !" 
 
 " Surely you do not mock that princely stranger ?" 
 Miss Spice interposed, with severity. 
 
 " Princely ! Oh, come now, Ally, we're talking of 
 old J-" 
 
 Miss Spice started to her feet. 
 
 * Hush !" she cried. * No more, not another word, if 
 you love me." 
 
 130
 
 " ' HE IMPRINTED A KISS ON MY LIPS ' "
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * Ally," said Babs, * Alicia Spice out with it ! What's 
 the matter ?" 
 
 " Alas ! 1 can only repeat," said Miss Spice, " little 
 you know what you have done. How can you, how 
 could any one know who had not witnessed what has 
 just passed between us ?" 
 
 She sank back on the sofa, clasped her hands, and 
 gazed up at the ceiling. 
 
 " My heart is bursting ! I must speak 1" she gasped. 
 " Will you promise never to betray me ?" 
 
 " Oh, I won't tell," said Babs. 
 
 " My dear child," Miss Spice exclaimed, " why did I 
 not think of you sooner ? In spite of your youth, I now 
 perceive that you are the only one I know who can really 
 sympathize with me and help me at this critical period of 
 my life. You must know, then, that I have given my 
 heart to this stranger I had almost said this royal 
 stranger." 
 
 "And has he accepted it ?" Babs asked. 
 
 " I should not have said, perhaps, that I had already 
 given it to him. He has only to ask, however." 
 
 " Then he has not asked you yet ?" 
 
 " That is where I am to blame," sighed Miss Spice. 
 " Sit down, dear child. I have given him no encourage- 
 ment, no reason to hope ; and now I fear he has gone 
 from me in despair." 
 
 " He did look rather queer," said Babs, sitting down 
 on a Chippendale chair and nursing her basket. " But 
 how do you know he loves you ?" 
 
 " Once, on one occasion, he he " she dropped her 
 voice and brought it out with an effort " he imprinted 
 a kiss on my lips." 
 
 " How nasty !" said Babs. 
 
 " My dear, you wound me," said Miss Spice. 
 
 " Sorry 'polergize," said Babs. " What are you 
 going to do now ?"
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " What shall I do ? Is the injury irreparable ? I ask 
 myself. How can I bid him hope ? Oh, if he could but 
 see me now, at this supreme moment of contrition and 
 remorse, if he could but hear my voice !" 
 
 " Why not serenade him ?" said Babs. 
 
 " Ladies do not serenade their lovers," said Miss 
 Spice. 
 
 " Yes, they do, sometimes ; Miriam serenaded Dona- 
 tello in The Romance of Monte Beni." 
 
 " Did she though, really ?" said Miss Spice, brought 
 down by sudden interest from her highfalutin to the 
 tone that was natural to her. " How do you know ?" 
 
 " Read about them." 
 
 " But, my dear child, you've often told me that you 
 never read anything." 
 
 " I know," said Babs ; " but haven't you noticed 
 when you say very positively that you hate a thing and 
 never do it you find yourself liking it and doing it half 
 the time ? That's how I am about reading." 
 
 Miss Spice blinked several times in a hard attempt to 
 follow her, then shook her head. 
 
 " What were you going to tell me ?" she asked. 
 
 "About Miriam and Donatello. He was sulky about 
 something and she went to the foot of his tower and 
 sang to him, charmingly. He was a fantastic creature, 
 with fawn's ears, all furry, under his hair." 
 
 " Oh, but one could not do such a thing," said Miss 
 Spice. 
 
 " Why not ? I've done something of the same kind 
 myself a most romantic thing. I supped alone with 
 Cadenhouse one night up in the tower." 
 
 " Babs, you are not telling the truth." 
 
 " No, of course I'm not," said Babs. 
 
 " But did you really ?" 
 
 " Yes, I did." 
 
 " I don't know whether to believe you or not." 
 
 132
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Believe me, or ask Cadenhouse. I have threatened 
 to go again some day. At present he's on the lookout, 
 I'm sure, so I'm waiting. The fun is to take him by 
 surprise." 
 
 " But do you love Lord Cadenhouse ?" 
 
 " I don't know/' said Babs. " I feel all hot in the 
 chest about him." 
 
 " You do love him 1" Miss Spice exclaimed. " Oh, is 
 it not wondrous ?" 
 
 " Wondrous !" said Babs. " I wish I'd known it 
 sooner." 
 
 " But, my dear child, you're very young to be in love !" 
 Miss Spice exclaimed, shocked into her natural sense of 
 propriety for the moment. 
 
 " I'm head and shoulders taller than you are," said 
 Babs, " and a hundred years more precocious. I'm sure 
 there's nothing like love, and I'm going to be in love now 
 all the time. It's rather a spoil-sport, though, I fancy," 
 she added, thoughtfully. " I hesitate to haul him out 
 now. At first " 
 
 She broke off because Miss Spice's attention had 
 wandered, and asked her what she was thinking about. 
 
 " The words, you know," said Miss Spice, vaguely. 
 
 " Words for a serenade ?" said Babs. " The words 
 don't matter. Miriam sang in German, which Dona- 
 tello did not understand ; but her song was none the 
 less efficacious for that. The magic is in the voice, you 
 know." 
 
 " But perhaps this Miriam had more reason felt justi- 
 fied Donatello had doubtless confessed his love/' Miss 
 Spice stammered. 
 
 " His attentions had been most marked," said Babs, 
 " and also he had allowed Miriam to make love to 
 him." 
 
 " Dear me !" said Miss Spice. " Then it was not con- 
 sidered improper ?" 
 
 '33
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Dear, no !" said Babs. " They were idealists, you 
 must remember." 
 
 " But I don't quite know what idealists are/' said Miss 
 Spice. 
 
 " Nor I either, exactly," Babs answered, candidly. 
 " But idealists have the privilege of doing pretty much 
 as they like." 
 
 " Might one be an idealist without knowing it ?" Miss 
 Spice wondered. 
 
 " I should think nobody knows they're idealist till 
 they find themselves doing as idealists do." 
 
 " But what do they do ?" 
 
 " They begin by worshipping the ideal ; then But 
 if you ever see a lady and gentleman in a public place, 
 capering along hand in hand, followed by a crowd of 
 ragamuffins, to the music of a crystal flute or Pan-pipes 
 made of reeds, you may be sure they are idealists. It is in 
 such outbursts of innocent mirth that idealists betray 
 themselves, so I gather from the book. I'll lend it to you, 
 then you'll see for yourself I'm telling you the truth. 
 All idealists are great at something great painters, 
 poets, sculptors, singers, greatly in love ; and for the 
 most part great geese ; but glorified geese, of course. 
 Let's have tea. Do see what good things I've brought 
 you !" 
 
 She opened her little basket, and Miss Spice peeped in 
 involuntarily. 
 
 " Babs," she said, " you always do me good. I couldn't 
 have touched a thing when you came in, but now " 
 
 Babs jumped up, and sang : 
 
 " ' Polly put the kettle on, 
 We'll all have tea.'" 
 
 " But poor dear aunt is out," said Miss Spice. 
 
 " We'll keep some for her," said Babs. " Come into
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 the kitchen. I do envy you the run of the kitchen ! I'm 
 howled at by everybody if I even peep into ours." 
 
 * It is not at all the same thing," said Miss Spice, with 
 propriety. " Of course you cannot be allowed to mix 
 with the servants." 
 
 " Blow !" said Babs "the fire, I mean." 
 
 Miss Spice got the bellows, and sat down on a creepy- 
 stool in front of the kitchen fire. 
 
 " I do so enjoy talking to you, Babs," she said. " You 
 have always something unusual to say. You are never 
 obvious." 
 
 " Ally, there you are again, thinking of him," said 
 Babs, and added, mocking the great man : " It is a long 
 lane that er keeps on turning." 
 
 " Dear man !" sighed Miss Spice. 
 
 When Babs had gone, Miss Spice sat herself down 
 once more on the little creepy-stool in front of the kitch- 
 en fire and recalled their conversation. That impossi- 
 ble serenade, how it haunted her ! She warbled a little. 
 Of course such a thing could never be done, but suppose 
 Her gentle bosom heaved ; just to suppose it took away 
 her breath. But suppose she should be wandering with 
 her guitar in that direction ! Miss Spice had inherited 
 a guitar from her mother, but she could not play it. Still, 
 suppose And so she continued, not realizing how 
 easy it is to pass from the vague dream to the positive 
 purpose. 
 
 135
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BABS jumped out of bed at daylight next morning, 
 seized pencil and paper, and wrote ; and as she 
 wrote she laughed immoderately. She was not 
 so ready with her pen as with her tongue, and the 
 composition she was engaged upon cost her much time 
 and trouble ; but the compensating pleasure was ex- 
 treme. Every now and then she chanted a line to try 
 it; and when she had finished she went through the 
 whole thing, and hugged herself in an ecstasy of merri- 
 ment. 
 
 " I wonder if she will 1" she exclaimed. " But if she 
 does, may I be there to see 1" 
 Having finished, she wrote a note which ran : 
 
 " DEAR ALLY, I send herewith Hawthorne's book, 
 Transformation, in three volumes the one I told you 
 about yesterday. He changed the name ; it used to be 
 called The Romance of Monte Beni. May it be useful. 
 I also send you a little serenade I have just composed. 
 Learn it ; it will go to almost any tune. Do do decide 
 to try it ; and tell me when you mean to make the at- 
 tempt. Faint heart never won er fine gentleman. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " BABS." 
 
 Having made the books into a neat parcel, with the 
 note inside, Babs threw open the window and looked 
 out. Below, in the garden, a slouching young fellow 
 
 136
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 was digging and delving. Clodd Dulditch was a callow 
 youth, commonly considered not very bright, who had 
 been added to the out- door establishment at Dane Court 
 by Mrs. Kingconstance, at her sister-in-law's instiga- 
 tion, principally because his mother was a widow. There 
 being nothing in particular for him to do, he was at 
 everybody's beck and call. Sometimes he was made to 
 work in the gardens, sometimes in the stables, or the 
 fields, or the plantations ; but no matter what the task, 
 he conscientiously shirked it to the best of his ability. 
 Clodd was at that time a barbarian possessed of some of 
 the qualities appertaining to civilization a big-mouthed, 
 small-nosed, narrow-eyed, red-headed son of the soil, 
 who did not seem to have wit enough to be a thorough 
 rogue or resolution enough to be an honest man. 
 
 " Clodd !" Babs called to him. " Here, Clodd, I'm let- 
 ting a parcel down with a string ! Come and take it ! 
 And run with it as fast as you can to Miss Spice, and 
 bring me back an answer." 
 
 " She won't be up," said Clodd, deliberately, approach- 
 ing the parcel. 
 
 " ' She's ' the cat/' Babs retorted. " Speak more re- 
 spectfully, Mr. Clodd Dulditch, if you please. It's no 
 business of yours whether Miss Spice is up or not. Do 
 as you are told and reap the reward of merit." 
 
 Clodd' s eyes brightened intelligently, and he went, 
 but without any show of alacrity. 
 
 Babs remained at the window. It was early summer. 
 The balmy morning breezes blew in upon her. The 
 roses were beginning to bloom, the great horse-chestnuts 
 were in full flower, pink and white hawthorns were shed- 
 ding petals and perfume on every side, and an old apple- 
 tree just beneath the window was bursting into blossom. 
 The country, stretching away on either hand, as seen 
 through gaps in the trees, ended on the far horizon in 
 gentle hills, made dim by distance, while between, on
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 every side, the land could be seen parcelled out into green 
 fields, pasture and arable. Thick hedge-rows, fine old 
 trees, and here and there a dip in the ground or sparkling 
 watercourse relieved the prospect from monotony ; while 
 directly opposite, where the hills beyond the valley held 
 up their heads to heaven, there was always for Babs the 
 mystery and the interest of the tower. 
 
 She gazed at it now, and as she gazed she suffered a 
 change of mood. Her spirits went down, a great feeling 
 of dissatisfaction seized upon her. She did not think 
 the serenade so very funny after all ; she wished she 
 had not sent it. At that time Babs was always either 
 doing something or wishing she had not done it. 
 
 Clodd Dulditch appeared in the course of the morning 
 with an answer from Miss Spice, which he was cunning 
 enough to keep until he could deliver it to Babs when 
 there was nobody by to see. Babs did not want to be 
 questioned about the note, but, all the same, she resent- 
 ed Mr. Clodd Dulditch' s assumption of secrecy. It low- 
 ered her in her own estimation to have the gardener's 
 boy suspect her of surreptitious dealings, and made her 
 still more dissatisfied with her morning's work. 
 
 Miss Spice wrote : 
 
 " Thank you so much for the book, dear. I shall read 
 it with the very deepest interest. The serenade is lovely, 
 and so appropriate. But of course I could not dream 
 of doing such a thing." 
 
 Babs tore off the half-sheet impulsively, and replied, 
 in pencil : 
 
 " Don't. I'll think of something else. Miriam was a 
 ridiculous foreigner, and not a person to be imitated at 
 
 all. LORRAINE KINGCONSTANCE." 
 
 She gave this note to the respectable Clodd Dulditch, 
 
 138
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 with orders to deliver it immediately, and a shilling for 
 his trouble. 
 
 She had made the note up into a cocked hat. Clodd 
 opened it, read it, and not seeing enough in it to make 
 it worth while to deliver it, burned it with other rubbish 
 when he emptied his week-day pockets on Saturday 
 night. 
 
 Transformation was a revelation to Miss Spice. She 
 read it, she was absorbed into it, she lived the life. She 
 took her daily walks abroad in Rome in an atmosphere 
 of high romance. She was Hilda in her tower, she was 
 Miriam more especially was she Miriam and the sere- 
 nade she was not going to sing was always in her mind. 
 
 Her good aunt, Mrs. Sophia Pepper, did not know 
 what to make of Miss Spice in these days. She caught 
 her continually in some extraordinary pose or other. 
 Once, after Miss Spice had been alone in the drawing- 
 room for some hours, the old lady, going in with a lamp, 
 surprised her just as she jumped up from the couch, her 
 arms raised above her head, and was beginning to dance. 
 
 " Gracious, Alicia !" said Mrs. Sophia Pepper. " You 
 did give me a turn. 1 nearly dropped the lamp. But 
 you'd need to caper and stretch yourself or your limbs 
 will be shrivelling with the amount you sit about." 
 
 " I'll get the tea, aunt," Miss Spice said, meekly. " I'm 
 afraid I'm absent sometimes. You must forgive me." 
 
 " Oh, you mean well enough, Alicia," the old lady an- 
 swered. " But 1 wish you'd think less and do more. 
 I'd be obliged to you if you'd get the tea, for I'm about 
 done with seeing after everything most of the day while 
 you're sitting in the drawing-room. It usen't to be so 
 once, but something's come to you of late I don't know 
 what, only you're not the same at all." 
 
 Miss Spice raised her little hands in protest, and went 
 out of the room all atwitter, anxious to atone. She be- 
 gan to cut bread for toast. If only he could see her so
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 employed Charlotte and Werther. Ah, The Sorrows 
 of Werther I But he should not sorrow long. Comfort 
 must be conveyed to him. Miriam sang. 
 
 Kneeling before the kitchen fire making the toast, 
 Miss Spice began to imitate Miriam softly at first, then, 
 suddenly and involuntarily as it seemed to her, she burst 
 into full song a glorious burst of clear, full-throated 
 song. Up and down the scale she went, bravura, with 
 ever-increasing spirit never mind the words. Still on 
 her knees she flourished the toasting-fork, she threw 
 herself into expressive attitudes like an opera-singer. 
 The toast went flying across the kitchen. She never 
 missed it. 
 
 When at last she was forced to stop, out of breath, she 
 became conscious of Mrs. Sophia Pepper standing in the 
 doorway, eying her grimly. 
 
 " Well, of all" the old lady began. " What in the 
 name of idiocy are you making such a noise for yowling 
 the house down and anticking ? 1 declare 1 think you're 
 training for a lunatic asylum." 
 
 " Oh, auntie, 1 was only trying my voice," Miss Spice 
 remonstrated. 
 
 * Trying your voice ! 1 never saw such an exhibi- 
 tion in all my life. And what about the tea ?" said Mrs. 
 Sophia Pepper. 
 
 During the meal Miss Spice was conscious that her 
 aunt was looking at her over her spectacles from time to 
 time inquiringly. 
 
 " I'd like to know what tick it is you've got into your 
 head, Alicia," she said, at last ; " but if you've any mu- 
 sic in you, I'm not the person to quench it. Sing while 
 you can, by all means the singing season of life is 
 short ; but sing like a lady, and not like a play-acting, 
 painty-faced, bold-eyed hussy." 
 
 " But, aunt, that's the way to sing. Every one 1 
 heard sang like that when 1 was in London." 
 
 140
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Well, if you sing like that here, then the Lord have 
 mercy upon your soul !" said Mrs. Sophia Pepper. 
 
 " Here !" said Miss Spice, bitterly. " Here nobody 
 ever has a chance no woman, at least. We're born, 
 we mourn, we die, we rot ; that's the history of women 
 in Danehurst. We never have a chance." 
 
 Mrs. Sophia Pepper shook her head and compressed 
 her lips. 
 
 " You should have married," she said. 
 
 " Who, if you please ?" said Miss Spice. Then she 
 looked up through the window at the strip of sky above 
 the trees. The very real privations of her life, so hero- 
 ically borne, had made their mark upon her poor little 
 anxious face, once so rosy and plump and pretty, but 
 now so pinched. Miss Spice was a sweet-natured, prac- 
 tical little person naturally, born to be a self-effacing 
 wife, a devoted mother, a happy home-maker ; so it had 
 been intended by nature, but man, the marplot, had in- 
 tervened with his social muddle and spoiled the design, 
 so that Miss Spice was wasted. Her happy home-mak- 
 ing proclivities had found no outlet, vain delusions had 
 taken the place of interests and occupations, and all her 
 promise was being resolved into fantastic performance. 
 
 When she went to her room she sat long at her win- 
 dow looking out. It was a moonlight night, and she 
 had put out the candle for economy. 
 
 " I wish 1 knew what to do," she was saying to herself. 
 " If I do nothing I shall decay, like the rest ; if 1 do 
 something I may have my moment " 
 
 She jumped up, all energy for an instant, then she sat 
 down again, a prey to doubt. 
 
 " Oh, for a sign !" she cried aloud, " a sign, a sign 
 just ' Yes ' or ' No ' ! If a cloud crosses the moon in the 
 next ten minutes, that shall be ' No.' " 
 
 She sat with her little watch in her hand, anxiously 
 waiting ; and it was as if nature were anxious to respond 
 
 141
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 to her appeal, for in less than ten minutes a great white 
 cloud came hurrying up and crossed the moon. The 
 sign was significant enough, but Miss Spice was not 
 satisfied. 
 
 " 1 might have made it ' Yes ' as easily as ' No/ " she 
 said. " If a bird chirps in the next ten minutes, that 
 shall be ' Yes/ " 
 
 For ten long minutes she looked at her little watch ; 
 eleven, twelve, fifteen there was not a sound. Miss 
 Spice got up and walked about the room, dissatisfied 
 still. 
 
 An old newspaper was lying on a chair. She took it 
 up mechanically. The margin showed white in the 
 moonlight ; she tore a strip of it off, but with no very 
 clear intent. Two signs already were against her. 
 Should she hazard a third ? Why not ? She searched 
 for a piece of pencil, tore the scrap of paper in two, wrote 
 on one piece " Yes," on the other " No," dropped both 
 pieces on the floor, shut her eyes, turned round twice, 
 then went down on her knees, and groped about, with- 
 out looking, until she found one of the scraps. It was 
 all done in the most strictly honorable manner ; there 
 could be no mistake about it this time. Miss Spice 
 lighted the candle and looked. 
 
 The word was "No." 
 
 142
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE Swiss Cottage stood in a pine-wood half-way 
 up a steep hill just outside the village of Dane- 
 hurst. It owed its name in part to its position, 
 but also to sundry gables, balconies, and other or- 
 namental projections of wood, stained brown, which made 
 it very much resemble the little models of Swiss chalets. 
 As was usual in that neighborhood, the cottage had 
 been placed so as to be as much concealed from view as 
 possible ; the chimneys only were visible from the road 
 below, and no one would have suspected that a house 
 of any importance stood there, yet the so-called " cottage " 
 was of considerable size. Immediately round about it 
 the wood had been cleared to make room for the gardens. 
 The grounds were entered from the high-road by hand- 
 some iron gates. There was no lodge. The drive, cut 
 through the fir-wood and sheltered on either side by the 
 trees, wound round the hill up to the house picturesquely. 
 There the thrushes and blackbirds sang and the rooks 
 came cawing. It pleased Mr. Jellybond to watch them. 
 Their black forms silhouetted against the blue were 
 extremely decorative, he said. When he had admired 
 their beauty to his heart's content he shot them. 
 
 That afternoon, while poor little Miss Spice was weary- 
 ing for him and forming extravagant plans to console 
 him, the dear man had been strolling about his grounds 
 enjoying the freshness and the balsamic odor of the firs 
 in the company of Mrs. Normanton and one of her daugh- 
 ters, whom he had waylaid at his own gate just as they 
 
 43
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 were driving past, and persuaded to enter and stay for 
 tea. 
 
 " What a strange coincidence/' he said, " that 1 should 
 have been at the gate just as you were passing ! And 
 how fortunate for me 1" 
 
 " And for us too, I'm sure," Mrs. Normanton replied, 
 smiling. 
 
 She was looking young and animated, and there was 
 a gleam in her eyes as if she were illuminated inside, 
 and the light flashed forth. 
 
 Mr. Jelly bond repeated, " What a strange coincidence !" 
 times enough to make one wonder at last how the coin- 
 cidence had occurred. Fortunately, there was no one 
 there to wonder, as little Meg Normanton, whose un- 
 sophisticated eyes saw nothing that was not obvious, 
 did not count. 
 
 " It is so nice to see you here !" Mr. Jelly bond took 
 occasion to remark in an expressive aside to Mrs. Nor- 
 manton ; and this also he repeated several times, and 
 each time Mrs. Normanton smiled and sighed. Satis- 
 faction was mingled with regret in those smiles and 
 sighs. It is wonderful how young and romantic people 
 can go on feeling, even after they have lost their figures. 
 Mrs. Normanton knew that poor Mr. Jellybond had dis- 
 covered too late that she was the one who alone could 
 have made his life perfect, if only and the knowledge 
 was sadly sweet. However, there was no help for it 
 now. Squire Normanton was a fact an unregretted 
 fact as far as Mrs. Normanton was concerned ; but that 
 did not prevent certain sentimental pleasantnesses a 
 little speech, a lingering handclasp, a look direct all 
 quite innocent, of course, and indefinite ; yet what a 
 difference they made ! Life had been so insipid before 
 Mr. Jellybond came ; now it had its sauce piquante. Mr. 
 Jellybond loved to be sauce piquante to a lady's life to 
 any number of them. Half the ladies in the neighbor- 
 
 144
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 hood brightened at the sound of his name. Each, like 
 Mrs. Normanton, had a little secret of her own (some- 
 thing different in each case) respecting Mr. Jellybond, 
 and kept it ; and he, honest man, was discretion itself. 
 He seldom even mentioned one lady o another, and 
 never except in a casual way ; but they all talked about 
 him. They said he was so original, so clever and in- 
 ventive, so unlike anybody else, and such an acquisi- 
 tion to the neighborhood ! 
 
 Mrs. Normanton was charmed with the grounds. 
 She was taken by surprise again and again by some 
 ingenious contrivance or other. Once she stood by 
 accident on an innocent-looking flat stone, and twenty 
 feet away, out of a marble basin, a beautiful fountain 
 spurted up into the air. At another point they sat on a 
 seat from wfrch could be obtained a lovely view of the 
 valley, and presently Mrs. Normanton perceived that 
 the scene was slowly changing. At first she was startled, 
 thinking it was an optical illusion ; but no, the land- 
 scape was really moving on like pictures in a panorama. 
 Mr. Jellybond enjoyed the mystification of the ladies for 
 a little before he explained that the seat was adjusted so 
 that when you sat upon it it revolved slowly on an axis 
 in order to show you the prospect from every point of 
 view. 
 
 Another seat stood just inside the entrance to a grotto. 
 Mr. Jellybond seemed to wish that they should sit there, 
 and the ladies complied, although they would not have 
 chosen that seat themselves, because the sun shining 
 full upon it dazzled their eyes. No sooner were they 
 seated, however, than there descended in front of them 
 a sheet of water, and they found themselves sheltered 
 from the heat and shut up in delicious seclusion. 
 
 When they came to the house Mr. Jellybond stepped 
 aside, and with a courtly bow waved them towards the 
 door, which was shut, but opened of itself on the instant. 
 K 145
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 As they crossed the threshold they were welcomed with a 
 burst of instrumental music. 
 
 " Dear me ! This is fairyland," said Mrs. Normanton. 
 
 " While you are here, yes," said Mr. Jelly bond. 
 
 The hall was hung with red cloth from floor to ceiling, 
 which made a telling background for the white statues 
 (draped, of course) which adorned it, and for the tree- 
 ferns, palms, and other foliage plants which were grouped 
 about in profusion with excellent effect. They were not 
 all real, but the artificial ones were so natural and so 
 cleverly disposed no one ever suspected them not even 
 Mr. Jellybond's intelligent housekeeper, Mrs. Dulditch, 
 who watered them all impartially. Mr. Jellybond's 
 big bland countenance expanded every time he caught 
 her performing this duty. 
 
 He led his guests into the dining-room, a charming 
 apartment panelled in oak, where the tea was spread out 
 at one end of the long table. 
 
 " Will you preside, dear lady ?" he said. " 1 had it 
 placed here that 1 might know for once what it is to have 
 the chair at the head of my table filled to my entire satis- 
 faction." 
 
 It was a handsome oak chair of ecclesiastical design, 
 with arms, and a high carved back a large chair, but 
 Mrs. Normanton might well be said to fill it satisfactorily. 
 When she had taken her seat she looked about her, ex- 
 pecting the unexpected to happen ; but for several min- 
 utes all was ordinary. Then, suddenly, high up near 
 the ceiling at the far end of the room opposite to her, 
 something went " click," and there flashed forth from 
 the carved cornice in prismatic colors the one word " Wel- 
 come." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond was gratified by a prolonged " Oh-h-h !" 
 from both ladies. 
 
 " I cannot I never shall understand," Mrs Norman- 
 ton burst forth. " how it is that you, with your talents 
 
 146
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 your genius, I may say can stay buried alive in such a 
 place as this." 
 
 * Why, dear lady, it is a charming place/' said Mr. 
 Jellybond. " What more could the heart of man desire ? 
 If I went forth into the world again, the unattainable 
 would still be the unattainable." 
 
 He looked significantly into the lady's face. She 
 cast down her eyes. Then they both sighed. It was 
 very pleasant. 
 
 " I pride myself on the number of my peaceful pur- 
 suits/' said Mr. Jellybond, " upon my ample leisure, 
 upon my inward calm, upon my outward cheerfulness. 
 Mine has been a varied existence not such a very long 
 one, perhaps, as time goes ; but varied, amply varied. 
 I have seen much too much, it may be ; and now my 
 heart's desire is peace ; and it seems to me that I have 
 attained to peace at last. What do you say, dear lady ? 
 It is a long lane that er keeps on turning." 
 
 When the ladies had gone Mr. Jellybond yawned un- 
 affectedly. Then he dressed for dinner. It was known 
 in the village that he always dressed for dinner, and the 
 fact added much to his personal prestige. 
 
 There was a library at the Swiss Cottage. Mr. Jelly- 
 bond, when he settled in that neighborhood, had a seri- 
 ous purpose in his mind. The library was a good room 
 down-stairs. It was lined from floor to ceiling with 
 learned books, handsomely bound. The books on the 
 upper shelves were dummies, but that did not spoil the 
 effect. Books were always lying about, some open on 
 tables, or piled up on chairs, or even on the floor, as if 
 in constant use ; while charts, maps, scientific instru- 
 ments, and sheets of closely written manuscript com- 
 pleted the learned lumber. The room looked like an in- 
 tellectual workshop, and visitors, who were always 
 shown in there unless they were special intimates, were 
 duly impressed. But Mr. Jellybond protested against
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 being considered learned. He wished it to be understood 
 that his evenings were spent at the piano and his morn- 
 ings in painting pictures so he said ; but somehow his 
 protests only confirmed the belief in his more solid ac- 
 quirements. 
 
 It was not to his library, where Miss Spice always 
 fondly imagined him immersed in thought, but to anoth- 
 er room, one of the best in the house, which he used as 
 a withdrawing - room, that Mr. Jellybond retired that 
 evening after dinner to pursue his studies. This room 
 was up-stairs, and gave onto a balcony overhanging the 
 valley, of which it commanded a magnificent view. It 
 was by no means a conventional apartment ; belonging 
 to such an original person, that was not to be expected. 
 Mr. Jellybond would not have it called a drawing-room ; 
 he intended it to be a chamber of the arts, he said. The 
 shape, to begin with, was unusual. There was a fair 
 space in the centre, but all about it nooks and corners, 
 the result of throwing three rooms into one, and such 
 like structural alterations. The doors were mahogany 
 not real mahogany, but so well painted that no one could 
 have told the difference. The floor was parquet, a new 
 kind made on canvas and sold by the yard, but exceed- 
 ingly effective. A few silk Persian rugs were artfully 
 disposed about it ; but everything in the room was art- 
 fully disposed, even the grand piano, that usually hope- 
 less piece of furniture from the point of view of beauty, 
 looked well. Music was also represented by a harp and 
 lyre. M". Jellybond played the piano, but he con- 
 fessed, with his accustomed frankness, that the harp 
 and lyre he could only love for their form. Pictures of 
 lovely women in voluptuous attitudes were cunningly 
 placed between ravishing landscapes and seascapes on 
 the walls, and statues gleamed against silk curtains. 
 There were flowers and foliage plants, but not too many 
 of them. The prevailing tint was achieved by a clever 
 
 148
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 combination of shades of green, blue, and pink, with 
 daring splashes of purple and red. Slow combustion 
 grates and Adams's mantel-pieces decorated the fire- 
 places, of which there were several. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond was in the habit of doing a good deal 
 for himself in the house. He had acquired the habit in 
 his travelling days, he said, and kept it up because 
 otherwise he should not have had active exercise enough 
 to keep him in health and spirits, but also because it 
 bored him to be much waited upon. 
 
 When he came up-stairs that evening after dinner he 
 changed his spruce dress coat for a velvet smoking- 
 jacket, put a match to the wood fire which was laid ready 
 for lighting in a cosey corner, drew a luxurious sofa 
 towards it, put a reading-lamp on a small table beside 
 the sofa, and lighted another lamp which hung from the 
 ceiling and cast a delightful, rich, warm, rose-colored 
 glow over the whole apartment. The French window 
 which opened onto the balcony he also threw wide to 
 keep the room fresh. He had heard that warmth and 
 fresh air tend greatly to prolong life. He then drew the 
 curtains and shut out the last cold gray of the twilight, 
 which did not harmonize with his feelings so well as the 
 rose-colored lamp, and at last, with a sigh of satisfaction, 
 he stretched himself on the couch, lighted a cigar, and 
 opened a book. Before he began to read he glanced 
 round and seemed well pleased. Ease of body and mind, 
 with affluence and beautiful possessions, were his ; he 
 owed neither money nor grudge to any one ; he had a 
 great object in life and many small ones the small ones 
 were the ladies who liked him. He was no hermit, and 
 did not profess to be. His capacity for enjoyment was 
 enormous ; he had carefully cultivated it, and was pre- 
 serving it as carefully, in order that it might be prolonged 
 to the utmost limit of life. Moderation that was one of 
 his words. To keep himself well in hand and never let 
 
 149
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 himself be satiated was the principle he proposed to act 
 upon for the remainder of his days. At one time he had 
 worked too hard, but he had recovered from that, and 
 now he was determined not to go to the opposite extreme. 
 So far he had succeeded well in life, and he expected to 
 succeed to the end if only no outside influence came to 
 balk him. Himself he could control, but there were 
 others besides himself to be reckoned with. However, 
 there is no playing any game without an opponent; 
 the thing is to be prepared for your opponents. He kept 
 himself prepared by speaking the truth as nearly as 
 possible. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond was reading Puck that evening for the 
 first time. He had just come to the description, writ in 
 burning words, of the painting of Cleopatra. He read 
 it twice, he gloated over it, then closed the book, shut 
 his eyes, and leaned back on the couch to recall every 
 graphic detail scattered through the story and converg- 
 ing at this point, where, by their aid, that splendid 
 creature, with " one gorgeous blossom of the pome- 
 granate " pressed to her " scarlet lips," was conjured 
 up in the flesh for his delectation. He objected to the 
 class to which she belonged too venal, he said, and 
 too easy of attainment. You lost all the pleasure of 
 the pursuit with them. Now, Mrs. Kingconstance 
 He meditated for a good half -hour on her beauty, 
 then returned to his book ; but before he could resume 
 the story some one knocked at the door. 
 
 " Come in," Mr. Jellybond exclaimed, not over-amia- 
 bly. Like other studious men, he objected to be in- 
 terrupted in the ardent pursuit of knowledge, especial- 
 ly when he was, as at that moment, very much " in the 
 vein." 
 
 The knock was repeated, from which it was evident 
 that the person without had not heard the invitation to 
 enter. 
 
 150
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Come in, my good woman," Mr. Jelly bond said again, 
 more blandly this time, but without raising his voice. 
 His housekeeper, Mrs. Dulditch, Clodd's mother, was 
 deaf ; and it was his playful habit to keep her waiting 
 in this way when she disturbed him at inconvenient mo- 
 ments. Mr. Jellybond's household consisted of most 
 respectable elderly people. There was a boy, who never 
 appeared, to do the rough work in the kitchen, because 
 Mr. Jellybond did not approve of young maids in a 
 bachelor's establishment. 
 
 After a pause Mrs. Dulditch knocked again several 
 times. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond did not reply. He threw himself back 
 on his sofa and watched the door with an amused ex- 
 pression until the handle was turned, then he shut his 
 eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Dulditch looked at him a moment, and also looked 
 at his half-smoked cigar, which was well alight in the 
 ash-tray at his elbow. Mrs. Dulditch might not hear 
 much, but could see more than most people. 
 
 " Please, sir " she began, in some trepidation. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond looked at her in apparent astonishment. 
 
 * Did you knock ?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir, several times. Perhaps you were asleep, sir." 
 Mr. Jellybond gave her a stony stare, which made her 
 
 fidget uncomfortably. 
 
 " Do you want anything ?" he asked, enunciating 
 
 each word with slow distinctness, just loud enough for 
 
 her to hear. 
 
 * No, sir, I don't, sir, thank you, sir," she replied ; 
 " but there's a person down-stairs as does." 
 
 " Who is the person ?" Mr. Jellybond demanded. " If 
 it be some one asking alms, give him alms " and he 
 waived his hand as who should say, " You know the 
 lordly custom of the house give him alms by all means ; 
 but do not disturb me." " Really, Mrs. Dulditch, you
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 should know better at this hour, when 1 am always 
 occupied." 
 
 " 1 beg your pardon, sir," said the housekeeper, be- 
 coming abject through sheer nervousness. " It isn't 
 my fault, sir. She insisted on seeing you. She said 
 she'd take a stick to me if 1 didn't let her in. She isn't 
 askin' arms. She laughed scornful when 1 offered her 
 a shillin'." Mrs. Dulditch looked round, then came a 
 step nearer, and added, mysteriously : " It's that per- 
 son, sir." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mr. Jelly bond, with the slightest pos- 
 sible change of tone, as he put his feet to the ground 
 and stood up in a slow and dignified manner. " Now 
 Mrs. Dulditch," he continued, confidentially, " what 
 would you do under the circumstances ? That the 
 woman is mad 1 think does not admit of a doubt. Also, 
 that she has no claim upon me except the natural claim 
 of one so afflicted " he solemnly shook his head " no 
 impartial judge would deny. But still, what am 1 to do ? 
 If 1 refuse to see her " 
 
 " She'll make a row in the village, sir, and come again, 
 that's all." 
 
 " Ah !" replied Mr. Jelly bond. " 1 was too good-nat- 
 ured in the first instance. If I had steeled my heart 
 against her entreaties 1 should have saved myself much 
 trouble. Remember that, Mrs. Dulditch 1 should 
 have saved myself much trouble. It is not an advan- 
 tage to be born with a soft heart. Mine has always 
 been too tender. I forget my duty to myself only too 
 often. But now, 1 suppose, Mrs. Dulditch, there is 
 nothing for it but to see her. You had better show her 
 up, my good woman you had better show her up." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond looked at his housekeeper, smiled, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and sighed audibly enough to 
 impress her. 
 
 " I'll show her up, sir," said Mrs. Dulditch. 
 
 152
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 [RS. DULDITCH ushered in a handsome, gipsy- 
 like creature, much bedizened with bright rib- 
 bons and solid gold jewelry of antique design. 
 At the first glance she looked old, but her slim 
 figure, dark face, and high color, her thick black hair 
 and extreme activity, together with a habit she had of 
 gesticulating so that she seemed to be talking with her 
 whole body, made it hard to determine what her age 
 might be. She entered the room as if she had a right 
 to be there, coolly seated herself in an easy-chair without 
 waiting to be asked, glanced round, and then looked Mr. 
 Jellybond full in the face. 
 
 " Well, Tinney," she tartly observed, " it's some time 
 now since I last had the pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 " It is hard that we cannot oftener meet," he replied. 
 " If there be anything that could add to my happiness 
 at this time it would be the delight of seeing you, dressed 
 as becomes you, sitting here night after night, the or- 
 nament of my lonely hearth and the comfort of my 
 monotonous ease." 
 
 " Fudge 1" she ejaculated. " Don't talk to me like 
 that. You do it very well, I allow, and doubtless it's 
 the c'rect thing in some places ; but to her as remem- 
 bers the very day you first put on that style it won't go 
 down, I do assure you." 
 
 " Practice makes perfect," he blandly observed. " Prac- 
 tice is my plough. I have put my hand to it, and I do 
 not turn back."
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Tinney, you're a fool/' the woman said. 
 
 He glanced round the room complacently by way of 
 answer. Her eyes followed his, and she reversed her 
 judgment. 
 
 " No," she reflected aloud, " you're not a fool ; but 
 you might easily pass for one." 
 
 " I only take on the color of my surroundings," he re- 
 plied. " It is the way with the cleverest insects. Social- 
 ly our safety depends upon our appearing to be like 
 other people and our popularity on appearing to be 
 different. But I fear that is not obvious enough for 
 you." 
 
 " It's mighty clever, I suppose," she said, melting into 
 a smile. It was evident from the way she looked at him 
 that her admiration for him was great, and that she 
 found it hard to keep up the appearance of wrath with 
 which she had begun the conversation. 
 
 " You must have some wine," said Mr. Jelly bond, fol- 
 lowing up his advantage. 
 
 He took a bunch of keys from his pocket. 
 
 " Kindly excuse me a moment," he said, as he left the 
 room. 
 
 The woman looked half pleased and, half amused at 
 this formality. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond returned with a tray, on which were 
 glasses, biscuits, and a decanter. He put it on a small 
 table beside her, poured out two glasses of wine, took 
 one himself, and left her in command of the decanter. 
 
 " Well, here's to you, Tinney," she said, lifting the 
 glass to her lips " here's luck." 
 
 " Here's luck," he responded. 
 
 "And how are you gettin' on?" she asked, in a con- 
 vivial tone. 
 
 " It is well with me," he replied. 
 
 " Take care," she said. " It mayn't be so well with 
 you as you flatter yourself. I'll have some more of that
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 wine " she helped herself. " It's better nor you send 
 me." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond laughed inaudibly. 
 
 " Well, really now, it is the very same/' he said. " I 
 protest it is." 
 
 " The glass, then, is of a better quality, and gives it 
 a finer flavor," she rejoined, with a sneer. " But take 
 care take care. Your luck's in my hands. Just how 
 you treat me, so shall you prosper. Haven't I told you 
 time after time ?" she cried, growing vehement. " Haven't 
 I warned you ? And haven't I never warned you a day 
 too soon ? It's not me's the one to call wolf when there 
 isn't none." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond's countenance lowered as he listened. 
 
 " Is there anything wrong ?" he asked, in an altered 
 voice. 
 
 " Oh, you're givin' me your best attention at last, are 
 you?" she exclaimed. "You're not the boy to give 
 nothin' for nothin', I know. And there wasn't no fear 
 of your givin' two f ourpenny bits for a sixpence, neither, 
 since you were the height of three pen'orth o' coppers." 
 She finished her second glass of wine. " But you want 
 me to look after your interests, sharp and all as you are ; 
 you can't get on without me. And I do look after your 
 interests doesn't matter how you treat me. Where 
 would you be now but for me, dunderhead ? It's me's 
 thought of everything for you all along. You can do 
 as you're told, and that's all. And it's well for you that 
 I do look after you so I tell you again. Three times 
 this week have I laid the cards in the moonlight for you ; 
 and three times this week have they fallen the same." 
 
 " What did they say ?" he asked, in evident anxiety. 
 
 " They said ' Danger, discovery, defeat, and disgrace.' 
 Now, am I crying wolf?" 
 
 " You are not mistaken, of course ?" he said. 
 
 " Mistaken 1" she retorted, contemptuously. 
 
 155
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " But what danger is threatening ? We can avoid it 
 if we know," he put in, eagerly. 
 
 " I can't get at that without you," she declared. 
 
 " Have you brought the cards ?" he asked. 
 
 " Now do I just tell me do I look like a fool ?" 
 
 " You are discretion itself," he replied. " Of course it 
 would never do to bring them here." 
 
 " No, I should think not," she retorted ; then added, 
 mincingly, " and so I have come to ask you to join a 
 party of pleasure to-morrow evening at my residence, 
 Thorne Lodge, Danehurst." 
 
 " I will not fail you," he replied. 
 
 The woman rose, poured hersell out a third glass of 
 wine, drank it off, and prepared to depart. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond showed her to the door down-stairs as 
 punctiliously as if she had been a duchess. 
 
 When he returned he poured himself out another glass 
 of wine, and then began to pace about the room rest- 
 lessly. After some reflection he rang for Mrs. Dul- 
 ditch. Manlike, he could not leave well alone. He 
 must try to improve the situation even at the risk of 
 accentuating it. 
 
 " If that person comes again," he said to Mrs. Dul- 
 ditch, "you must say, 'Not at home/ 'Not at home ' 
 does not mean that I am out, Mrs. Dulditch ; it means 
 that I am not accessible. If I could do anything for 
 that poor creature I certainly would. But I really 
 think that the doctor or rather the clergyman is bet- 
 ter fitted to minister to her spiritual needs than I. It is 
 the mind, Mrs. Dulditch the mind." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll engage, sir," said Mrs. Dulditch, 
 " that you'll talk with the best of them." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond smiled, as not ill-pleased at the compli- 
 ment. 
 
 " 1 like to do what 1 can," he said, sighing " what 
 1 can, you know. It is only right that we should 
 
 156
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 all do what we can. Do you not think so, Mrs. Dul- 
 ditch?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, sir," Mrs. Dulditch agreed, fervently, 
 with the feeling that her mind was being improved. 
 
 " She has asked me, poor thing, to go and see her to- 
 morrow," Mr. Jellybond continued, " and 1 feel 1 must 
 go. She would like me to read to her. It is a strange 
 fancy, when there is Mr. Worringham, for instance, so 
 much better fitted for the task By-the-by, 1 must do 
 what 1 can to interest him in this poor creature. Her 
 great trouble, Mrs. Dulditch, is unbelief. She wants 
 to believe, and she cannot believe. Now that, when 
 you come to think of it, is very sad in fact, Mrs. Dul- 
 ditch, 1 may say it is awful. She is a fellow-creature, 
 you know, and, although 1 fear to take too much upon 
 myself, it seems to me that 1 should go and see her. 1 
 ought not to consider myself at all in the matter, per- 
 haps." 
 
 " It would be kind to go, sir," said Mrs. Dulditch. 
 
 " Well, 1 do not know," Mr. Jellybond observed, depre- 
 catingly ; then added sotto voce, but still loud enough 
 for her to hear, " perhaps Mr. Worringham will accom- 
 pany me. He could not fail to help and comfort her." 
 
 When Mrs. Dulditch left him Mr. Jellybond caught 
 sight of his handsome person in a strip of mirror that 
 reached from floor to ceiling. He went up to it, gazed 
 at himself a moment, then stepped back, and, with an 
 immovable countenance, solemnly danced a fling. He 
 danced it extremely well, too, and so lightly that no one 
 in the next room could have heard him. The big man's 
 confidence seemed to be restored by his agile gyrations. 
 Mr. Worringham would have prayed had his mind been 
 disturbed ; Mr. Jellybond danced ; and the result was 
 the same a circumstance worth noticing as an instance 
 of the difficulty of laying down laws for the guidance of 
 distressed human beings. 
 
 157
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Mr. Jellybond returned to his entrancing book, and 
 remained absorbed in its contents until midnight ; then 
 suddenly sleep came upon him, the book slipped from 
 his hand, and he fell into a gentle, dreamless doze. It 
 did not last long enough, however, for him to know that 
 he had been asleep. He fancied he had been conscious 
 of the noises about him of the fire crackling in the 
 grate, of the rustling of leaves, and, above all, of the 
 melodious notes of the nightingale trilling the story of 
 his whereabouts, of his love and longing, and calling 
 persistently to the tardy mate who might pass him in the 
 darkness if she did not hear his song. There is some- 
 thing enthralling in bird notes at night, an.d Mr. Jelly- 
 bond's voluptuous nature, which had already been 
 stirred to its depths by " Ouida " and wine, experienced 
 a rapturous thrill when he gradually awoke to the charm 
 of the hour. But man is not made to live alone, and Mr. 
 Jellybond's perfect content was somewhat marred by a 
 sleepy longing for Cleopatra. 
 
 The nightingale came closer to the window. The 
 full, pure notes of its mellow call filled the room. Mr. 
 Jellybond lay with closed eyes. The bird's song min- 
 gled with his pleasant thoughts. But suddenly certain 
 words passed through his mind with chilling effect like a 
 dark shadow on a sunlit sea : " Danger, discovery, de- 
 feat, and disgrace," and just at that moment his ears 
 were filled with a strange, alarming cry. He raised 
 himself on his elbow to listen. He was superstitious, 
 and for a moment he believed that the sound was not of 
 this world. His heart beat loudly ; his limbs were 
 paralyzed. He was obliged, whether he would or not, to 
 be still and listen. In a few seconds, however, alarm 
 changed to wonder. 
 
 The first utterance had been a disconsolate shriek 
 like the wail of a banshee, but it was quickly followed in 
 quite a different key by a succession of other utterances 
 
 158
 
 CONFOUND THOSE CATS !' HE SAID "
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 which had the effect of somewhat reassuring the listener. 
 The sounds arose from the garden below, and he was 
 soon convinced that they were caused by a human being ; 
 but whether the person were in dire distress of body or 
 were simply a lunatic at large he could not at first de- 
 termine. He began to distinguish some attempt at a 
 song, however, which caused him to lean to the lunatic 
 theory. The voice ascended and descended a wonderful 
 scale unknown to modern musicians. It paused to pro- 
 long a note here, then dropped to quaver on another 
 there, then remounted backward, so to speak, and awk- 
 wardly, as if it could not see where it was going, till it 
 was arrested by tumbling up against an obstacle which 
 was too high for it to surmount, when it cracked and fell 
 fiat once more, down in the depths, whence, without 
 pause, it reascended courageously time after time. Mr. 
 Jellybond sat listening in mingled horror and astonish- 
 ment. A maniac, he reflected, was a dangerous creat- 
 ure, with the strength of ten men. What should he do ? 
 But here, happily, he remembered that his room was up- 
 stairs. No creature without wings or the agility of a 
 monkey could scale the balcony. This was reassuring, 
 and, once he felt safe, he began to be curious. He re- 
 membered that the window was open, and, after hurriedly 
 turning out the lamps, he stole on tiptoe towards it. 
 Cautiously he drew back the curtains, and peering out 
 into the moonlight that lay before the heavily shadowed 
 veranda, he tried to catch a glimpse of the disturber of 
 his peace, but she (the creature was of the treble sex) 
 was standing too close to the house to be visible from his 
 window. 
 
 The night is bright ; 
 
 The white moonlight 
 
 Falls soft on flower and tree. 
 
 Oh, love, my dear, 
 
 Arise, appear ! 
 
 I fain would comfort thee, 
 159
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 were the words which he now distinguished. Mr. Jelly- 
 bond's curiosity got the better of him. As he listened 
 he felt sure that his serenader was not a maniac of the 
 raving kind. But who on earth could she be ? Hunk- 
 ering down, he stole across the deep veranda to peep 
 through the creepers which covered the wooden balus- 
 trade. He had begun to feel amused ; but when, on 
 peeping through the leaves, he discovered Miss Spice, 
 he collapsed upon the floor and rolled about in an ec- 
 stasy of silent mirth. 
 
 Recovering himself, he peeped again, and watched 
 her for a little as she stood throwing up her arms, toss- 
 ing her curls from side to side, fluttering her ribbons, 
 and writhing herself into attitudes which were pain- 
 fully indicative of her earnestness. 
 
 But what was to be done ? The weird chant seemed 
 likely to continue until he yielded, and the position was 
 embarrassing. If his own servants or any stray passer- 
 by should hear her and be attracted by the noise, it would 
 be known all over the country-side to-morrow that Mr. 
 Jellybond had been serenaded by Miss Spice, and he 
 would be made ridiculous forever. The thought was 
 intolerable. But how to get rid of her ? If she had not 
 made such a row he might have appeared, acting on 
 another of his principles, that which inclined him to 
 make the most of the good things the gods sent him ; 
 but under the circumstances he was too wary to commit 
 himself. 
 
 Suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to him. He thought 
 he saw a way not only to silence her for the present 
 but to quench her flame forever. 
 
 On all fours he crept back across the veranda,, and 
 noiselessly entered the house. In a few minutes he re- 
 appeared at the window ; but this time he pretended to 
 open it, making as much clatter as possible. Then he 
 raised a large bath, which he had brought from his dress- 
 
 160
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ing-room, walked heavily with it to that part of the ve- 
 randa whence the sounds arose, balanced it for a mo- 
 ment on the rail : "Confound those cats 1" he said, and 
 flung the water, with a swish, plump onto the devoted 
 head of poor little Miss Spice. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond heard a half-drowned shriek as he re- 
 tired to the window. Thence, by the bright moonlight, 
 he watched the little woman, with dripping garments 
 clinging to her limbs, the skimpy tail of her dress drag- 
 gling behind her and making her look like a white ban- 
 tam on a wet day, as she stumbled across the lawn and 
 down the drive. 
 
 " It won't do you any harm, you dear," he said to him- 
 self, in his kind-hearted way. 
 
 He had taken the water from the warm-water tap, so 
 as not to give her too much of a shock. He was such a 
 thoughtful man. 
 
 L 161
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE day after Miss Spice's serenade, in the early 
 morning, Babs was sitting at her dressing-table 
 having her hair dressed by Bertha, her maid. 
 The glass in front of her was tilted so that she 
 could not see herself when she looked up a sure sign 
 that Babs was out of sorts. She was at a difficult age, 
 and she had her bad days days of disgust with every- 
 thing when everybody irritated her more or less, and 
 she irritated everybody. 
 
 " Miss Lorraine, you've got out of bed wrong way 
 first this morning, and if you slap me again I'll have 
 to go and complain to your ma," Bertha was saying, 
 as she wiped the eye which was watering copiously 
 from a back-handed knock from Babs. 
 
 " You can go and tell the devil if you like," Babs ejac- 
 ulated. 
 
 " Your language is most unbecoming, miss." 
 
 * It's no business of yours what my language is," Babs 
 snapped. " Your duty is to brush my hair and hold 
 your tongue." 
 
 Bertha tried again, but her pretty, dimpled face was 
 crumpled with a threat of tears one of which fell at 
 last, splash, on her young mistress's neck. 
 
 Babs looked round. 
 
 " Are you crying, Bertha ?" she exclaimed. " Good 
 gracious ! what will you do next ?" 
 
 Bertha took out her pocket-handkerchief and sobbed. 
 
 Babs bent her head and reflected a moment. 
 
 162
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I'm sorry if I've been horrid/' she said, at last, in 
 an altered voice. " It isn't you, you know, it's myself 
 that's all wrong. There, stop crying, and I'll give 
 you " she looked about for something on her dressing- 
 table " I'll give you this brooch. See how pretty it is ! 
 Gold filigree." 
 
 " 1 don't want any brooches, thank you," Bertha re- 
 plied, with one eye on the ornament and the other on her 
 own dignity. " 1 only want to be treated like a human 
 being, and given the credit for it when I'm doing my 
 best. You've got everything in this world provided for 
 you, Miss Lorraine, that's worth having. If you'd got 
 to work for the bare necessaries of life, ill or well, wet 
 days or fine, in the mood or out of the mood, and keep a 
 smiling countenance, you'd know the difference. Sure- 
 ly it wouldn't cost you much to have a little considera- 
 tion for me that has nothing but what 1 earn and has 
 lost so much." 
 
 Bertha referred to her parents, who were dead. Her 
 father had been a respectable tenant farmer, ruined by 
 bad times ; and service was a come-down in the world 
 for Bertha. 
 
 But Babs had heard that plaint before, and was not in 
 the mood to be moved by it that morning ; it merely 
 bored her. 
 
 " Well, leave off sniffing, anyway," she said, giving 
 the mirror in front of her a push to bring it back to its 
 place. " Be amiable and talk about something. Js 
 there any news ? If you were more entertaining 1 
 shouldn't be so irritable. By-the-way, what's become 
 of Susannah ? Why was she sent away in such a hurry?" 
 
 Bertha pursed up her mouth. 
 
 " Eh ?" said Babs, impatiently. 
 
 " I'm ordered not to tell you, because it isn't proper for 
 young ladies to know," Bertha answered, with rigid pro- 
 priety. 
 
 163
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Oh, then it's sure to be something interesting/' Babs 
 ejaculated. " I'll have to ferret it out, 1 suppose. What 
 on earth are all these mysteries about, Bertha? I'm 
 always wondering. Has Susannah got another place ?" 
 
 " No, miss ; she's been very bad." 
 
 " Wicked ?" 
 
 " Well, a little of that too. But I meant ill." 
 
 " Is she ill now ?" Babs demanded. 
 
 " Yes," Bertha answered, " and she's starving too. 
 Her mother's so poor she hasn't clothes to cover her, nor 
 proper food to give her to eat." 
 
 " W T hat would be proper food ?" Babs asked. 
 
 " Oh, fowls and jellies and wine anything strength- 
 ening, you know," said Bertha. 
 
 " Why hasn't mamma sent her all that she requires ?" 
 Babs demanded. 
 
 Bertha pursed up her mouth again. 
 
 " I shall go straight to mamma and ask her," said 
 Babs. 
 
 "You'd better not, miss; take my advice," Bertha 
 conjured her. 
 
 Babs gave her the snub which is ever ready, by way 
 of reward, for the gratuitous givers of good advice. 
 
 When she was dressed she went down-stairs. The 
 rest of the party were already seated at breakfast. Babs 
 burst into the room, slammed the door after her, and 
 took her own seat at table in noisy haste. 
 
 "My dear child!" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed; 
 " where are your manners ?" 
 
 Babs frowned at her interrogatively. 
 
 " You haven't said good-morning to anybody." 
 
 " Good-morning, everybody," Babs snapped. 
 
 The greeting was received with ironical bows by Julia 
 and Montacute. 
 
 " You've put on that shabby frock again, Babs," Mrs. 
 Kingconstance proceeded. " I told you not to." 
 
 164
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I forgot," said Babs. 
 
 " Forgot, my dear child !" her mother exclaimed. 
 " You must not forget. How would it be if everybody 
 forgot as you do? I must request you not to forget 
 again. What is the matter with you this morning? 
 You look anything but amiable." 
 
 " I'm not amiable," said Babs. 
 
 " Then you ought to be," her mother said. " You 
 have nothing to make you unamiable. If you had, I 
 don't know what you would be like. You should really 
 try to cultivate more gracious manners. Look at Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney. He has had every kind of reverse 
 and trouble in his life, yet he's always cheery." 
 
 " Oh, don't quote Mr. Jellybond Tinney to me," said 
 Babs. " I hate him. I hate his big, soft hands ; I hate 
 his smug face ; I hate the way he walks. He's a beast." 
 
 " I should think that's done you good, Babs," said 
 Montacute. 
 
 " What's the matter, Babs ?" Miss Kingconstance 
 asked, kindly. " What have you got on your mind ?" 
 
 " All the misery there is in the world," Babs rejoined. 
 " Just think of somebody within a stone's throw of you 
 dying of hunger, while you have too much to eat !" 
 
 " My dear child," said her mother, " what can put such 
 morbid ideas into your head ? No deserving person 
 would ever be allowed to die of hunger here." 
 
 " Susannah is dying of hunger," said Babs. 
 
 The ladies changed countenance. 
 
 " Susannah is not a deserving person, and her name 
 must not be mentioned," Mrs. Kingconstance admon- 
 ished her, emphatically. 
 
 " Oh, all right. But I want to know " Babs was be- 
 ginning. 
 
 " You shall know nothing upon that subject," her 
 mother declared. 
 
 " But if Susannah is ill and hungry and cold " 
 
 165
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Babs, once for all, I insist/' Mrs. Kingconstance 
 interrupted, as sternly as it was in her to speak. " You 
 must drop that subject." 
 
 " I see/' said Babs, defiantly ; " the Lord did not die 
 for Susannah, evidently." 
 
 " Really, you are a wicked girl," her mother exclaimed, 
 " and I feel it my duty to punish you. You must go to 
 the school-room and stay there for the rest of the day." 
 
 " Thank goodness !" said Babs, jumping up. " I 
 shall have some time to myself. Take care of dear 
 Julia." 
 
 She flung out of the room as she had entered it, slam- 
 ming the door after her. 
 
 " I don't know what to do with that child, she is so 
 tiresome," said Mrs. Kingconstance, plaintively. 
 
 " Let her alone, I should think," her sister-in-law sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " But she must be corrected." 
 
 " There's a time for everything," Miss Kingconstance 
 reminded her. 
 
 " I wish the holidays were over and Miss Minton 
 were back," Mrs. Kingconstance ejaculated. 
 
 Babs waylaid her aunt as she passed the school-room 
 door, and appealed to her on behalf of Susannah. Miss 
 Kingconstance was usually sympathetic and anxious 
 to help in any case of distress ; but in this instance she 
 was as obdurate as her sister-in-law. 
 
 The moment Babs mentioned Susannah she stiffened. 
 
 " Susannah is a wicked girl," she said, in a hard voice. 
 " I will do nothing for her." She set her lips when she 
 had spoken, and went her way. 
 
 " You're all very sweet and Christian to poor Susan- 
 nah," Babs called after her. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was bringing up her daughters 
 on the old plan having all the facts of life carefully con- 
 cealed from them, and leaving them to depend upon their 
 
 1 66
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 own primitive instincts for guidance, since they had no 
 knowledge to help them. Babs was quite at a loss to 
 imagine any sufficient reason for all this stern contempt 
 for Susannah. She spent a good part of the day alone 
 in the school-room, sitting in the window with a book 
 open on her lap, thinking about it. She saw her mother 
 and aunt go for a drive together after luncheon, and 
 then she saw Montacute and Julia scamper off together 
 on their ponies ; but she hadn't the slightest wish to join 
 them. She was altogether indolent and indifferent to 
 them all, so long as the sun shone in at the open window 
 where she was sitting and the air was sweet. But as 
 the day advanced the sun disappeared, the wind began 
 to rise, and the old trees rocked drearily. Babs was 
 always susceptible to atmospheric influences. The 
 long, quiet, idle hours in the school-room had done her 
 good. Her nervous irritability had subsided, and she 
 was feeling more like her normal self, when the weather 
 changed. Had the calm continued, she might have 
 stayed in the school-room happily until she had per- 
 mission to leave it; but the rising gale had the effect 
 of exciting her to action. As she heard it swish through 
 the trees and saw the great branches tossed and torn by it 
 she longed to be out in the open ; she imagined herself, 
 with outstretched arms, sustained by the wind, floating 
 on it, borne away by it to some ecstatic region where it 
 was all ease and beauty and brightness. She thought 
 she would like to take Susannah with her. Poor Susan- 
 nah ! Babs's heart contracted when she thought how 
 very little ease and beauty and brightness she had had 
 in her life. How horrid it was of her mother and aunt 
 not to help the poor girl ! But why shouldn't she, Babs, 
 help her ? She had money to give her to buy covering, 
 but the food was the difficulty. She had had her lunch- 
 eon sent to her in the school-room, so that they would 
 know down-stairs that she was shut up, and it would not 
 
 167
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 do to show herself. She must get the food in some other 
 way. It never occurred to her that money would buy 
 food as well as covering. She had got one idea into her 
 clever head, and that idea was that food, simply and 
 literally, and not the means to obtain it, was the proper 
 thing to take to Susannah. And Bertha had said that 
 " good things " were the most suitable, and had particu- 
 larly mentioned fowls. Babs did not care much for 
 fowls herself, but she thought it likely that they pos- 
 sessed some quality specially adapted to do good under 
 the circumstances. 
 
 Fowls 1 How was she to get them ? There were cer- 
 tain to be some in the larder. What a nuisance it was 
 that she was shut up ! She did not hesitate to leave the 
 school-room when she felt inclined ; she only drew the line 
 at showing herself to the servants. But the question of 
 fowls still occupied her. There were plenty about the 
 place. The children had hen-houses and pet fowls of 
 their own. Montacute's were Cochin China, Julia's 
 were golden pheasant, her own were black Spanish 
 and hers were by far the finest of the lot, the best cared 
 for, and the fattest. The children were supposed to look 
 after their pets themselves for discipline to teach them 
 kindness, and inspire some sense of responsibility ; but 
 there was always some one to feed Miss Babs's pets for 
 her when she forgot them, as not infrequently happened 
 for days together. 
 
 Babs was just thinking how unfair it was that she 
 should, merely for her amusement, possess so many of 
 these necessaries for starving women, when she sudden- 
 ly saw the possibility of turning her fowls to account. 
 She did not stop a moment to bring her idea to perfection 
 by careful consideration. That it seemed feasible at 
 first sight was enough for her. She was too impulsive 
 to think, to delay the execution of any new project for 
 a moment. 
 
 168
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Forgetful of everything else, she jumped down from 
 her perch on the window-sill, pulled her garden-hat off 
 its peg, put it on, wrong side foremost in her haste, and 
 dashed down-stairs and out of the house. 
 
 Bertha, the maid, from a gallery up-stairs, saw her 
 flying across the hall, and mentally ejaculated : " Miss 
 Babs again ! Whatever is she up to now ?" 
 
 Babs ran on and turned down a little shady by-path 
 on her left, at the end of which was a door leading into 
 the stable-yard. She crossed the yard without meeting 
 any one, but was stopped for a moment at the other end 
 by a six-barred gate which divided it from the farm-yard 
 beyond. The gate was locked ; but Babs climbed up it 
 without hesitation. On the top she caught her foot in 
 her dress, and fell in a heap to the ground on the other 
 side. " Confound my petticoats \" she ejaculated. She 
 was dazed and bruised, and had to hold by the gate for 
 a few seconds to steady herself before she set off again. 
 On she went, however, limping a little at first, between 
 great stacks, until she came to another door in a low wall 
 which led into a paddock. In the paddock on the left 
 of this door were the pigsties, and on the right were the 
 children's hen-houses and accommodation for their pets 
 generally. At the farther end of the row of pigsties there 
 was a spacious room, with a furnace-place, boilers, and 
 every convenience for slaying pigs and curing hams 
 and bacon. At the end of the room there was a great pile 
 of cord-wood. A hatchet lay on the ground beside the 
 pile. In the centre was a large butcher's block. On 
 the lime-washed walls there were innumerable hooks. 
 
 Babs's big black Spanish fowls were wandering all 
 over the paddock. She began to chase them, and suc- 
 ceeded in catching one and driving three others into the 
 bacon-room. She had taken the largest that came, 
 without regard to age or sex. Having shut the door, 
 she tore a strip from her petticoat, tied together the legs 
 
 169
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 of the fowl she had caught, and hung it, head down- 
 ward, from one of the hooks. Then she caught the 
 other three fowls, and hung them up in the same way. 
 When the last was secured, she took them all down to- 
 gether and prepared to start. But, besides being very 
 heavy, the poor fowls were very strong ; and they napped 
 and struggled and cackled so furiously she could hard- 
 ly hold them. What was to be done ? It would be im- 
 possible to carry them along the public road kicking and 
 screeching like that. Babs looked about her in despair, 
 and her eye lighted on the hatchet. A cold shiver shook 
 every sensitive fibre of her frame. " But somebody will 
 have to do it," she said to herself ; and then there flashed 
 through her mind the text, " Bear ye one another's bur- 
 dens." 
 
 A curious state of exaltation succeeded that first cold 
 shiver. In a perfect frenzy of haste, she tore another 
 strip from her petticoat, bound the four black fowls to- 
 gether by their legs, and laid them on the block. " An 
 acceptable sacrifice," occurred to her as she did it. But 
 the fowls squirmed about in all directions, and she was 
 obliged to tie their heads together as well as their legs, 
 to keep them quiet on the block. Her religious excite- 
 ment increased, though her blood ran cold and hot. In 
 all ages the crudest deeds have been done in the name 
 of some deity. The modern vivisectionist cants about 
 " suffering humanity " to cover his crimes ; and that 
 catchword, coming into her mind, acted like a lash upon 
 Babs. Had she hesitated a moment had she trans- 
 ferred a scrap of her pity for suffering humanity to her 
 poor old hens she could not have done it. But, as it was, 
 she seized the hatchet, raised it, and brought it down 
 with all her might. The instant it fell, however, she let 
 it go and rushed from the place. Her pony, which was 
 grazing near, came cantering up to her. Glad of the 
 support of any living creature, she flung her arms round 
 
 170
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 his neck and hugged him close. Her heart beat wildly ; 
 she thought she must suffocate. But presently, recov- 
 ering herself, she returned to the bacon-room. She tried 
 to lure the pony in with her for company ; but when he 
 got to the door he sniffed suspiciously and refused to 
 enter. 
 
 " Off with you, then !" she exclaimed, giving him a 
 sounding slap, which sent him cantering across the pad- 
 dock, and served to brace up her own nerves again to 
 action. 
 
 The fowls had, in their last struggles, fallen from the 
 block to the ground, where the four black bodies lay 
 still united by their legs their heads remaining to- 
 gether in a little heap on the block. They seemed to be 
 dead, and Babs seized them without hesitation ; but the 
 moment she touched them, they quivered and shot out 
 their legs in a last convulsive shudder. Babs dropped 
 them and ran ; and it was some minutes before she could 
 control her distaste enough to touch them again. 
 
 At last, however, taking a little cardinal cape from her 
 shoulders, she flung the fowls and their heads into it in 
 desperate haste, and set off with the bundle at full speed 
 across the paddock, over two adjoining fields forgetting 
 for once, in her excitement, the terrible bull which was 
 sometimes loose in one of them and so, through a gap 
 in the hedge, to the high-road, where she was obliged to 
 slacken speed for a while to recover breath. 
 
 Had Babs not been in such a hurry she might have 
 heard a smothered guffaw from the top of the wood- 
 stack just as she made her final exit from the bacon- 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Clodd Dulditch, having been sent there to chop 
 wood, had just climbed the stack, and was preparing to 
 indulge in a siesta on the top when Babs appeared. 
 She never thought of looking up there, and thus he 
 
 171
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 found himself an undisturbed spectator of the whole 
 episode. He was hugely tickled ; his mouth had been 
 on the broad grin all the time ; and when the dead fowls 
 kicked out at Babs and sent her flying he could hardly 
 contain himself. 
 
 " She be a rum shot/' he reflected, when his mirth 
 had subsided a little and he was gathering himself up in 
 order to climb down from his eminent position. " She 
 be a rum shot, an' no mistake. But wotiver could she 'a' 
 done it fur? If I'd 'a' knowed wot she were up to, I'd 
 'a' done it fur 'er meself wi' the greatest o' pleasure." 
 Clodd said it mincingly ; he always talked fine when he 
 felt particularly gallant. " But she did it all of a 'cap 
 like, an' I'd no idee she were going so fur. Howsumiver, 
 I'll not split on 'er. An', wot's more, I'll clean up after 
 'er. A pretty pigeon she is to do aught on the sly," he 
 continued, looking round contemptuously on the traces 
 Babs had left of her deed. " Now, supposin' any one 
 found this 'ere place in such a state o' carnage, my eyes ! 
 what a to-do and inquiree there'd be. Oh no 1" 
 
 And Clodd the Lazy trudged off for water with which 
 
 " to swill up." 
 
 172
 
 CHAPTER XVI I I 
 
 THERE are of the majority who do not believe in 
 the inner voice ; so also are there people who 
 are color-blind. But since the beginning of 
 tradition there has been an unbroken record in 
 evidence of the fact that there is in mankind a guiding 
 power which has been known at various times by various 
 names. Some have called it inspiration, others intuition. 
 It has been positively personified as an angel the angel 
 of many messages ; or, more vaguely, as the daemon or 
 genius of some one person. The Quaker described it 
 as the spirit that moved him. We have some vague idea 
 of the conditions favorable to the development of this 
 power we know, that is to say, that it can be cultivated, 
 as the seed that is put in the ground is cultivated, by 
 careful enrichment of the soil, only it is not sowed as a 
 seed at least, we have no knowledge of the fact if it be. 
 All we know is that some of us find it in ourselves, and 
 that by no effort of will can we control it. We cannot 
 make it speak. If we question it, there is no response. 
 It comes into our consciousness we know not how ; all 
 we know is that it does come. And it comes at the right 
 moment, too, when we have real need of it, not when we 
 merely think that we have. In moments of dishearten- 
 ment it comes for our comfort, in moments of peril for our 
 help, in moments of doubt for our enlightenment, and in 
 moments of difficulty for our guidance. It does not 
 follow that we shall always understand it ; but sooner 
 or later its meaning is made clear.
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 All her conscious life Babs had been subject to that in- 
 ward monitor, that power which shapes a phrase in the 
 mind at critical times, and she had accepted the occur- 
 rence without doubt or question, and as a matter of 
 course. Had she thought of it at all, she would have as- 
 sumed that the same thing happened to everybody, that 
 grown-up people understood all about it, and that she, 
 too, would understand all about it by-and-by. She had 
 spoken of it to Cadenhouse, and he had perfectly compre- 
 hended her ; but as a rule she did not allude to it. Sensi- 
 tive people do not allude to subjects that are sacred to 
 themselves, unless they are sure of sympathetic attention. 
 
 Of all the suggestions that had come to Babs, " suffer- 
 ing humanity " was the most potent in its urging. From 
 the moment the phrase shaped itself in her conscious- 
 ness it laid hold of her. As she proceeded along the 
 high-road after the ordeal through which she had just 
 struggled the words ran on in her mind incessantly, 
 and as they repeated themselves she experienced a de- 
 lightful sense of exhilaration. The heavy old hens 
 made her arms ache; but the pain only added to her 
 excitement. She was like a fanatic who feels no fine 
 enthusiasm of devotion without actual bodily suffering. 
 
 Presently she had to leave the high-road and plunge 
 into the forest of Danehurst. Here there was little more 
 than a track for her to follow ; but she knew her way. 
 On either hand there were sloping banks, covered with 
 moss and ferns and tendrils of ground-ivy. Languidly 
 the old trees which formed the fringe of the forest, oak 
 and elm and beech, tossed their heavy limbs about, and 
 swayed and groaned in the rising gale. Farther on 
 there were only pines, dark pines, with waving plumes 
 that cast strange, deep shadows on the slight figure as it 
 passed beneath them. As Babs proceeded her spirits 
 gradually rose to a still higher pitch of awe and exalta- 
 tion. In the dreary soughing of the wind through the
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 forest she fancied she heard human plaints. Suffering 
 humanity was all about her, urging her on to the rescue. 
 
 The cottage stood on a lonely spot deep in the wood. 
 There were no other dwellings within a mile. To reach 
 it Babs was obliged to turn off from the main track and 
 follow an indistinct grassy path through a broad glade. 
 She had passed the place often enough, but had never 
 been inside it. Externally there were no signs of the 
 great distress she expected to find. On the contrary, 
 suffering humanity had evidently been busy putting it 
 all in order. The high thatched roof had been newly 
 mended, the garden was well planted, the privet hedge 
 which surrounded it was carefully clipped, and the 
 flowering creepers which covered the front of the house 
 were neatly trimmed and trained. 
 
 Babs paused in the little porch to recover her breath 
 before she knocked. There was a light in one of the 
 windows. There, in the heart of the forest, the days 
 closed in early, and doubtless the tiny diamond panes 
 kept out even the dim twilight that already reigned 
 under the trees. Babs heard a voice mumbling monoto- 
 nously inside. The tone was one of complaint ; but no 
 words reached her. Her heart began to thump against 
 her side she did not know why ; but, lest her courage 
 should fail her, she hastily knocked. The voice mum- 
 bled on, however. Her gentle tap had evidently not 
 been heard ; but she did not knock again. She feared 
 she might run away if she were kept waiting a moment 
 longer in suspense. She therefore lifted the latch and 
 walked in ; and just at that moment the voice ceased 
 speaking, and all was still. 
 
 The door opened into a little square passage. There 
 was another door opposite to it and one on either hand. 
 That on her right was wide open, and as she softly shut 
 the front door she turned towards it. It was the room in 
 which she had noticed the light, which, as she now saw,
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 came from a gaudy oil lamp that stood on the high, old- 
 fashioned mantel-piece. She saw the person whose voice 
 she had heard outside an elderly woman in a cap with 
 flaring red ribbons, who was sitting shuffling a pack of 
 cards at a small table which stood beside the fireplace. 
 She saw a wood fire blazing on the hearth, and a general 
 air of cottage comfort ; she saw preparations for a feast 
 on the well-scoured dresser ; but, most of all, she saw a 
 tall stout man standing negligently by the hearth. His 
 eyes were fixed on the ground. In one hand he held a 
 tumbler with some steaming liquid in it ; with the fingers 
 of the other he kept up an incessant little tap-tapping on 
 the wood-work against which he leaned. There was no 
 mistaking the man. Babs would have recognized his 
 shadow alone had she seen it by the dying daylight 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, whom she did not love. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney was known to be a good, kind, 
 benevolent gentleman; the cottagers all about heaped 
 every adjective of the kind upon him ; and Babs's im- 
 mediate idea was that he had forestalled her ; that 
 suffering humanity would owe its relief to him the 
 wretch ! and not to her. All her trouble had been for 
 nothing, then I Had it been anybody but him it would 
 not so much have mattered ; but Mr. Jellybond Tinney 1 
 
 Babs was seized upon by one of those sudden revul- 
 sions of feeling to which she was subject. 
 
 " How dare you !" she cried. 
 
 The occupants of the room started. They had not 
 heard her enter. Mr. Jellybond's glass fell with a crash 
 on the brick floor. The old woman jumped up, flinging 
 the cards from her wildly, and overturning the table. 
 The sudden cry from out of the darkness had sounded 
 with supernatural effect, and at the first glance it was 
 easy to mistake the angelic face, framed in fair hair and 
 with big eyes gleaming angrily, for that of an appari- 
 tion. The old woman gazed in terror ; but Mr. Jelly- 
 
 176
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 bond recognized Babs at once. She gave him no time 
 to act, however. When she had spoken she sprang for- 
 ward, swung the four headless, bleeding fowls, and 
 flung them in his face, then turned and fled from the 
 spot. 
 
 The heads of the fowls struck him on the cheek, their 
 bodies encircled his neck in a cold, clammy, defiling em- 
 brace, which sent a shudder through him. 
 
 " It's a bad omen," the old woman gasped, and his own 
 fears confirmed the prediction. 
 
 M 177
 
 CHAP TER XIX 
 
 BABS fled back through the forest far faster than 
 she had come. The wind was with her and 
 seemed to pursue her, and all about her were 
 strange sounds sighs and groans, and heavy 
 thuds as of inert bodies falling helplessly. She had a 
 horrid vision of the big, stout man an incongruous 
 figure in black frock-coat and tall hat, with a glass of 
 steaming liquid in his hand following hard after her 
 to catch and drag her back to Thorne Lodge to be mur- 
 dered by the witch in red ribbons who was standing at 
 the door waiting with the knife ready. 
 
 But as she emerged from the dark pine- wood the hob- 
 goblins gradually retired behind her, and by the time 
 she reached the high-road, very much out of breath, she 
 had begun to cast about in her own mind for something 
 to comfort her. Most of all she wanted somebody to 
 talk to. She looked up and down the wind-swept wood 
 and found the prospect dreary. In one direction there 
 was home, the very thought of which depressed her ; in 
 the other, far away, was Cadenhouse far away in every 
 sense of the word ; but in the same direction, near at 
 hand, was Ally Spice. When Babs was in a talkative 
 mood she was in the habit of using Ally Spice as a tar- 
 get to talk at ; and now the thought of Ally was reas- 
 suring, as the commonplaces of life are reassuring when 
 we find ourselves able to attend to them after moments 
 of difficulty and distress. 
 
 Mrs. Sophia Pepper answered the door at the Cross 
 Roads Cottage. 
 
 178
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " 1 want to see Ally," said Babs. " Is she at home?" 
 " Very much at home," said Mrs. Pepper, grimly. 
 " But 1 don't know if she'll be able to see you." 
 "Why? Is she ill?" 
 " She is." 
 " In bed ?" 
 " No ; but it would be better if she was." 
 
 * What's the matter ?" said Babs. 
 
 "A sort of chill, it seems," Mrs. Pepper replied, " and 
 something on her mind, I'd have said, if she'd had a 
 mind. But her nerves are all wrong, anyhow." 
 
 * Is it serious, do you think ?" said Babs. 
 
 " 1 can't say " the old lady answered. " She's pretty 
 bad, and it's possible she'll be worse. But come in ; 1 
 dare say she'll see you." 
 
 As Mrs. Sophia Pepper led the way to the drawing- 
 room she muttered to herself, as she had done at inter- 
 vals all that day : 
 
 " 1 knew she was sickening for something when 1 saw 
 her antics last night." 
 
 Miss Spice was lying on the couch with a shawl over 
 her. She turned a flushed and feverish face to Babs, 
 and held out a hot, dry hand. 
 
 " Leave us alone," she said to her aunt, in a tragic 
 manner. 
 
 When Mrs. Sophia Pepper had withdrawn, Miss Spice 
 raised herself on her elbow and whispered : 
 
 * 1 did it." 
 
 " Did what ?" said Babs, all at sea. 
 
 " 1 did it," Miss Spice repeated, " and 1 made a great 
 mistake." A fit of coughing interrupted her. * But 1 
 will tell you," she proceeded, as soon as she could speak, 
 " and then you can judge for yourself." 
 
 A singular gravity settled upon Babs. She had be- 
 gun to suspect what was coming, and found it hard to 
 keep her countenance. 
 
 179
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * When you first made the suggestion," Miss Spice 
 continued, " 1 said 1 could not do such a thing, and I 
 went on saying so to myself till the last moment " 
 
 " Didn't you get my letter ?" Babs interrupted. 
 " What letter ?" 
 
 * I wrote and told you not to do it on any account." 
 
 * I never got any letter to that effect." 
 
 " 1 must see to that," said Babs, frowning. " I expect 
 Mr. Clodd Dulditch can explain. Well ?" She settled 
 herself to hear the story. 
 
 " Oh, I wish it were well," sighed Miss Spice. " I got 
 desperate. I felt it was my only chance. Look at all 
 the women about here ; what sort of lives do they have, 
 1 ask you ? 1 said the thing could not be done ; but all 
 the time 1 was seeing in myself if it could. Then last 
 night, after 1 went up-stairs, it occurred to me to seek a 
 sign, and three times the sign came ' No/ The third 
 time 1 said to myself, ' That settles it !' and I took off my 
 dress and hung it up in the cupboard. Then all at 
 once I don't know what came over me 1 got out my 
 white muslin in frantic haste 1 put it on and my blue 
 ribbons. It was as light as day outside. 1 heard aunt 
 snoring. 1 went down-stairs." She paused for breath. 
 
 Babs was following the narrative with keen interest. 
 She had no longer any inclination to laugh. 
 
 " You see it was Fate," Miss Spice continued. * When 
 1 got outside 1 felt conspicuous in my white dress, so 1 
 returned for a big shawl." 
 
 " Returning is bad luck," said Babs. 
 
 " Yes. The moment 1 had done it 1 knew it was bad 
 luck ; but I could not tell then whether the bad luck 
 would be in the going or in the staying. But at any 
 rate 1 went. 1 had to go. When I got to the house I 
 took off my shawl and left it lying on a seat. There 
 was a light in one room up-stairs. I felt sure he was 
 there. I went and stood just beneath. 1 felt very 
 
 1 80
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 strange not like myself. It was some time before 1 
 could find voice to begin. But after humming a few 
 notes under my breath, suddenly 1 felt impelled to send 
 up one that was loud, clear, and melodious on the night 
 air. The nightingales were singing to him ; should 1 
 do less than they ? Having once begun, it was easy 
 enough to go on. And oh, my dear, I sang like one 
 inspired. The very birds paused to listen. 1 chose a 
 few words of comfort " 
 
 " You did not sing my serenade, then ?" 
 
 " No, my dear. 1 tell you 1 was inspired. I sang with 
 pathetic power. 1 never knew how 1 could sing before. 
 All at once the light went out the window was opened. 
 My heart stood still ; but 1 went on singing. 1 heard his 
 step as he crossed the veranda." Here Miss Spice was 
 again interrupted by a fit of coughing. " Imagine," she 
 added, hoarsely " imagine would you believe it ?" 
 
 * What ?" Babs gasped. 
 
 " Before 1 had time to step back," Miss Spice proceed- 
 ed, with tragic emphasis, " or had any idea of what was 
 coming, he emptied a tub of water right down on my 
 head !" 
 
 " Oh !" cried Babs, and burst out laughing. 
 
 " You may laugh," said Miss Spice, " but he did 
 right down on my head, and on my muslin dress, and 
 on my blue ribbons, and on my ringlets, and, what is 
 worse, he said, ' Cats!' ' 
 
 Babs stopped laughing. There was a ring of real 
 suffering in Miss Spice's voice as she pronounced the 
 last words that sobered her. 
 
 " Ally, 1 am sorry," she said. " 1 blame myself." 
 
 " No, my dear," said poor little Miss Spice, " it was not 
 you, it was Fate. If 1 had not made myself ridiculous 
 about that man in one way 1 should have done so in an- 
 other, and perhaps a worse. But now 1 know him. For 
 1 tell you 1 shall never, never, never believe that he 
 
 181
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 thought that 1 was cats. The flame is quenched for- 
 ever, and it may be that 1 am quenched too." 
 
 " Oh, don't say that, Miss Spice !" 
 
 " 1 am very ill, Babs," said the little woman, " and it 
 serves me right." 
 
 Babs rose. 
 
 " 1 shall always blame myself," she said. " But 1 won't 
 talk to you any more now. You're exciting yourself too 
 much. If you'll let me, I'll come to-morrow to see how 
 you are." 
 
 Miss Spice pressed her hand and let her go. 
 
 Babs was in a state of extreme dissatisfaction when 
 she left Miss Spice. Everything had gone wrong with 
 her lately, and she was almost ready to repent of her 
 misdeeds not because they were misdeeds, but because 
 they had gone wrong, which is the commonest cause of 
 repentance. 
 
 " 1 wonder what Cadenhouse would do under the cir- 
 cumstances," she said to herself ; and instantly there 
 occurred to her a most significant word " penance." 
 
 " I've never done penance," she said ; and prepared 
 for an interesting experience. 
 
 Babs sat down on a bank to consider. What was 
 there that she could do by way of penance ? Of course 
 she might go straight to her mother and confess, which 
 would be penance enough; but then why should she 
 bother her mother ? It was her own business, not her 
 mother's, and she must settle it herself. She looked 
 about her. The wind had dropped, but a damp fog was 
 rising, and the day was drearier than ever. Babs had 
 walked a long way, and her feet were aching. She 
 looked down at them, and remembered that she had 
 come out in her house-shoes. The shoes had suffered 
 from the roughness of the ground ; but what did that 
 matter ? what did anything matter? Why should she 
 wear shoes at all ? At the thought she sat up straight. 
 
 i8a
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 An idea had come to her ; and before she could have 
 expressed it in words, she had whipped off her shoes and 
 stockings, and was walking home barefooted. There 
 was little chance of being seen in the gathering fog and 
 darkness ; but had it been bright noonday, Babs would 
 have performed her penance, and only have thought it 
 the more efficacious for any extra inconvenience it might 
 have caused her. As it was, it was pretty severe, for 
 her feet were tender and the road was rough. The first 
 part of the way was bad enough, but it was the gravel 
 on the drive that tried her most. 
 
 She slipped round the house to a side door, that she 
 might steal in unobserved ; but before she could open 
 it, she was startled by hearing some one call, softly : 
 
 " Miss-s-s-s !" 
 
 Turning, she saw Clodd peeping round the corner, 
 and gesticulating in such a way as to excite surprise in 
 the breast of the most guileless observer ; but he con- 
 ceived himself to be acting with great caution. 
 
 "What's the matter, Clodd?" said Babs, going up to 
 him, forgetful of the shoes and stockings which she was 
 carrying conspicuously in her hands. " What do you 
 want ? You do exasperate me ! You're always mak- 
 ing mysteries. What do you mean by it?" 
 
 Clodd looked down at her bare feet and grinned. 
 
 " I'm not the only one," he remarked. 
 
 " Don't be impudent," said Babs. " Which reminds 
 me. What did you do with that second letter 1 gave you 
 to give to Miss Spice the day 1 sent you with that parcel 
 of books ?" 
 
 Clodd scratched his red head; then he felt about in 
 various pockets to gain time. 
 
 " Didn't she get it ?" he said, at last. 
 
 * No, she did not," said Babs, " and I'd like to know 
 why." 
 
 " 1 wonder," said Clodd. 
 
 183
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 They stood looking at each other in silence for a per- 
 ceptible interval, then Babs gave it up. Her lightning 
 methods of mind were impotent against the dogged jog- 
 trot of Clodd's cart-horse intellect. 
 
 " What do you want now ?" she snapped. 
 
 " 1 come to tell you 1 done it," he answered, delib- 
 erately. 
 
 " Done what ?" she demanded. " Everybody seems 
 to be doing something original." 
 
 " 1 cleaned up," said Clodd. 
 
 * Cleaned up what ?" 
 
 " The blood," he rejoined in an awful whisper. 
 
 Babs went hot and cold. The murder was out, then ! 
 What should she do ? 
 
 " 1 thort I'd tell yew, miss," the ingenuous Clodd pro- 
 ceeded, " because yew might 'a' bin bothered when yew 
 thort on as 'ow some 'un as oould 'a' split on yew might 
 'a' gone an' foun' it an' 'a' made en-qui-rees. I'll not 
 split. An' now's 1's cleared up, no 'un carn't find out 
 nawthink." 
 
 " How do you know I did it ?" Babs asked, incau- 
 tiously. 
 
 " 'Cos I seed you," said Clodd. 
 
 Babs's mind took a moment to travel to the bacon- 
 room and back ; but she could not conceive how it had 
 been possible for him to see her. She gave that point up, 
 however time pressed. 
 
 " Is that all ?" she said, impatiently. 
 
 * I'll not split," Clodd repeated. 
 
 " Thank you," she rejoined, haughtily. 
 
 She turned to go as she spoke. Clodd's countenance 
 fell ; but it brightened when Babs stopped and put her 
 hand into her pocket. It fell again when Babs uttered 
 an exclamation as if she had lost something, and 
 brightened once more when she seemed to find what she 
 wanted. 
 
 184
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " There," she said, giving him what appeared to be a 
 sixpence. 
 
 Clodd looked at it suspiciously. 
 
 " It's half a sovereign/' said Babs. " If you don't 
 want it, give it back to me." 
 
 Clodd hastily put it in his pocket. 
 
 " Thankee, miss, I'm sure," he said, in his best manner. 
 " If iver you want to do it agin, yew know," he added, 
 confidentially, " don't yew go fur to do it yerself, as isn't 
 proper for a young lady like yew. Cook there wouldn't 
 do it not was it ever so ; nor I niver heerd tell o' one as 
 would though preps it were laziness pervents 'em more 
 nor del-ee-kay-cie. Howsumiver, I niver yet knowed a 
 woman turn butcher, nor niver heerd o' one followin' 
 that trade, neither. So I ses, miss, as I said afore " 
 he looked round cautiously, then whispered, with his 
 hand to the side of his mouth " if iver you've a mind to 
 do it agin " 
 
 " A mind ?" Babs ejaculated. 
 
 " If iver you've a mind to do it agin," the imperturbable 
 Clodd repeated, a trifle more emphatically, perhaps, 
 " tip us a wink. Clodd'll not split." 
 
 He seemed to think that this put a proper period to the 
 proceedings, so he touched his cap ceremoniously when 
 he had spoken, scraped his foot back on the gravel by 
 way of a bow, and prepared to retire. 
 
 Babs was gone in a moment. She did not even wait to 
 thank him. 
 
 " Clodd," whispered a voice close beside him. 
 
 Clodd started and looked all round in a bewildered way. 
 
 " Clodd, I'm here, at the window," the voice continued, 
 cautiously, as if afraid of being overheard. " I want 
 you to tell me all about it." 
 
 It was Julia who spoke. 
 
 " Not me, miss," said Clodd, decisively, going up to the 
 window. " If yew'd 'a' bin near enough to this 'ere 
 
 185
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 window fur yew to 'ear all that passed w'en yew come 
 spyin' a listenin' in a way that's not honest to wot 
 yew'd no call to 'ear yew'd 'a' 'card me say (an' say- 
 in's sweerin') I'll not split." 
 
 " But, Clodd, I'd not split if you told me/' said Julia, 
 persuasively. 
 
 " It can't be done," the incorruptible Clodd firmly 
 persisted. 
 
 " Not if I pay you ?" Julia asked, insinuatingly. 
 
 " What'll yew pay me ?" Clodd demanded, with a rapid 
 fall from his incorruptible manner. 
 
 " I'll give you half a sovereign," Julia replied. 
 
 " It can't be done for that," he declared. 
 
 " I'll give you two," said Julia. 
 
 Clodd took time to consider. 
 
 " Honor bright ?" he said, at last. 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow. I haven't them here." 
 
 " No, no," Clodd chuckled. " You pay right down on 
 the nail, Miss Julia. We all know yew're slippery." 
 
 " Do you doubt my word, sir ?" Julia exclaimed. 
 
 " I do," said Clodd. 
 
 " I could get mamma to send for you and make you 
 tell, if I liked," she threatened. 
 
 " Yew can take a 'orse to the water, Miss Julia, but 
 yew can't make him drink," Clodd slowly enunciated. 
 
 Julia reflected a moment, then suddenly changed her 
 tactics. 
 
 " Wait here, Clodd," she said. " I'll go and fetch you 
 the money." 
 
 Clodd covered his large mouth with his large hand to 
 smother an irrepressible chuckle. He thought his way 
 of turning an honest penny exceedingly humorous. 
 
 Julia returned immediately, and, taking hold of his 
 hand, so that they might not drop the money between 
 them in the dark, she deposited the two small coins in it. 
 
 " Now," she said, " tell me." 
 
 1 86
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " You're sure you won't split ?" he bargained. 
 
 " Quite sure. Didn't I say so ? Do be quick." 
 
 " Well " he paused, as though he were still reluctant 
 to speak " this afternoon I seed Miss Babs break down 
 the gate 'atween Westbrook field, that's down i' w'eat 
 this year, an' Farmer Horner's sheep-run ; an' she let 
 all t' sheep into our w'eat, an' they've most ruined it." 
 
 " Then what did you mean by saying that you'd 
 cleaned up after her ?" 
 
 " Why, drivin' 'em out and puttin' up t' gate, to be 
 sure." 
 
 " Is that all ?" Julia exclaimed. 
 
 " That is all," Clodd answered, doggedly, " an' enough, 
 too, for the money, it seems ter me." 
 
 The first thing Clodd did, after lighting his fire, when 
 he got home that evening (he had lived alone since his 
 mother went as housekeeper to Mr. Jellybond Tinney) 
 was to sit down and indulge in a burst of hilarity. He 
 felt that, upon the whole, the day had been one of the 
 pleasantest he had ever spent. 
 
 When his mirth had subsided a little he put his hands 
 in his pockets and drew forth the coins. 
 
 " I said I'd not split on 'er," he chuckled. 
 
 At first he looked at the coins affectionately. Then, 
 as the firelight flickered on them, his face became more 
 intent. 
 
 All at once he knelt down and held them close to the 
 blaze, and looked and looked again, unable to believe his 
 eyes. 
 
 At last he exclaimed, turning round as if there were 
 some one present to hear him, and slapping one hand 
 with the other at every note of exclamation : 
 
 " Well, desh it ! Well, deng it ! Wha'd 'a' thort it ! 
 If she 'ain't 'a' bin an' gone an' done us arter all ! She's 
 a bad 'un, she is !" 
 
 187
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He had discovered himself to be the happy possessor 
 of one half-sovereign only, for Julia, under cover of the 
 darkness, had imposed two sixpences upon him. 
 
 " Blast 'er 1" said Clodd. * I'll be even wi' 'er yet." 
 
 188
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ATER the witch in red ribbons had uttered her 
 prediction there was a pause, during which 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney stood looking on the 
 ground intently. One would have thought 
 that he was doing mental arithmetic and so he was, 
 of a kind ; for he was summing up the position and 
 making a rapid calculation of the chances. 
 
 * What shall you do T the witch in red ribbons asked 
 him at last. 
 
 "Act," was the laconic rejoinder. 
 
 " You was always an actor, Tinney, " she observed, 
 admiringly. 
 
 " 1 was always a man of action," he rejoined. 
 
 An hour later he might have been seen walking down 
 the village street on his way home. His step was lei- 
 surely, as usual, his countenance serene. He had gone 
 to Thome Lodge and returned by the most public way, so 
 that everybody might see that he had nothing to con- 
 ceal. He wore a frock-coat that day, and carried a book 
 under his arm, which made him look like a minister of 
 religion ; and there was a general expression of supreme 
 content about him which helped the suggestion. It was 
 impossible to localize the expression it was all over 
 him ; but perhaps if it were anywhere specially marked 
 it was in the waggle of his coat-tails. He seemed to be 
 humming a tune to himself as he sauntered through the 
 village, bowing low to this person and giving a patroniz- 
 ing nod to that, his salutation being determined in every 
 
 189
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 case by the rank, age, or beauty of the person saluted. 
 The Japps' house looked onto the village street. There 
 was a garden in front of it, and the tall, dark, handsome, 
 determined-looking Florence was standing at the gate. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney stopped to make obeisance. His 
 lowest bow was for beauty always. 
 
 " You make me think of a flower," he said. 
 
 " What flower ?'* she demanded, bluntly. She had in- 
 herited her mother's commanding manner and deep 
 voice, so that the charm of her appearance was much 
 discounted when she spoke. 
 
 "A lily." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "A tiger-lily," he ventured. 
 
 A softening of the lips showed that she accepted the 
 comparison. She looked away from Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney down the road. Her eyes were bright, her lips 
 were red, her whole air animated. She was at a perfect 
 moment of life, in high health, with superabundant vi- 
 tality ; but there was a pathetic expression in her eyes, 
 an expression of yearning, of discontent, of reproach, 
 which Mr. Jellybond saw with sympathy and would 
 fain have banished. He understood her better than she 
 understood herself. She suffered the ache of her barren 
 existence without being able to explain it. Mr. Jelly- 
 bond gazed at her, in serious enjoyment of her beauty, 
 and sighed. He was perfectly sincere. He hated to 
 see her wasting the sweetness of her womanhood in 
 vain vague longings for an object in life. 
 
 " I see you so seldom " he was beginning ; but just 
 at that moment Mrs. Japp came waddling down the 
 path towards them. She was a woman of forty-five 
 and well preserved but exceedingly stout. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond turned his attention to her at once. 
 He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. 
 
 " So glad to see you," he said " so glad ! But I must 
 
 190
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 hurry on. 1 shall remember this glimpse ! Au revoir, 
 dear ladies." 
 
 He lifted his hat high and hurried away. Mrs. Japp 
 was beaming. Florence compressed her lips. 
 
 " You don't look very amiable, my dear," her mother 
 remarked, somewhat tartly. " 1 should like to know 
 why." 
 
 " 1 should like to know why you seem so pleased about 
 nothing." 
 
 " Oh, as to that " said Mrs. Japp, with an exasperat- 
 ing smile. " You seem to think I'm quite old," she 
 added, perking, as she led the way down the street. 
 
 "1 seem to think it's my turn," said Florence, under 
 her breath, tragically. 
 
 As Mr. Jellybond Tinney walked up the drive to his 
 own house he looked about him complacently. The 
 place was always picturesque ; but now, in the gather- 
 ing gloom, it was more than usually so, and he much 
 appreciated its beauty. Besides, it was his own, a fact 
 which it was always pleasant to remember. " Enjoy 
 as you go along," was a maxim he practised habitually. 
 Every moment we make pleasant for ourselves is some- 
 thing added to the good of life. 
 
 While he was waiting for dinner Mr. Jellybond pluck- 
 ed a flower from a pot on the veranda and stuck it 
 jauntily into his buttonhole ; and as he did so, he 
 thought of Miss Spice the night before, and was shaken 
 with silent mirth. 
 
 " These dear ladies, how funny they are !" he said to 
 himself. He thought that Ally would be easy to deal 
 with, but he was not so sure about Babs, and he had ac- 
 cordingly determined to settle with her first ; but exactly 
 how to tackle her was the question. He went up to the 
 great mirror to seek inspiration from his own reflection. 
 It seemed to him that he looked very nice. The addition 
 of the bright buttonhole to his perfectly fitting dress- 
 
 191
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 suit was a happy touch. He smiled blandly at the re- 
 sponsive mirror and felt reassured. 
 
 * It will be all right/' he declared to himself, and then, 
 on a sudden, gravely and silently, he began to dance 
 with extraordinary vigor. 
 
 When he had dined he put on a dust-coat and went 
 to Dane Court. He opened the hall door boldly and 
 walked in. There was nobody in the hall. Leaving his 
 hat and overcoat on a chair, he went up-stairs and peeped 
 about. He knew the habits of the family, and found, 
 as he expected, that they were sitting in the blue drawing- 
 room, which they usually occupied when alone. Monta- 
 cute and Julia were having an altercation. Mrs. King- 
 constance requested them to behave themselves, and 
 Miss Kingconstance said something inaudible, but Babs 
 made no sign. Was she there ? He ascertained by a 
 simple expedient. He opened the door noiselessly and 
 looked in. No, she was not there. Happy chance ! 
 He might perhaps find her alone. But he was nearly 
 caught before he shut the door, for Miss Kingconstance, 
 whose senses were singularly acute, thought she heard 
 something fizzle, and looked round. By the time she 
 turned her head, however, there was nothing to be seen. 
 Her momentary pause to listen had saved Mr. Jellybond. 
 He hoped to find Babs in the school-room, and went to 
 see if she were there. On the way he admonished him- 
 self to be circumspect. 
 
 Just at that moment, however, Bertha came running 
 down the corridor. He opened his arms and caught her. 
 
 " Pretty rosebud !" he said. 
 
 Bertha giggled. 
 
 " Let me go, sir I" she cried. * There's somebody com- 
 ing !" 
 
 " Give me a kiss, then, quick !" he said. 
 
 * For shame, sir !" said Bertha, still giggling and 
 wriggling. 
 
 192
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Suddenly he let her go. Some one was coming. 
 
 Bertha would have run past him, but he barred the 
 way. 
 
 " Stand still, you little idiot !" he commanded, and in- 
 voluntarily she obeyed him. " Did you say," he con- 
 tinued, in his ordinary, ponderous manner, " that Miss 
 Lorraine was in the school-room ?" 
 
 " No, sir yes, sir. She's been there all day shut 
 up naughty for punishment." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 They both listened. All was still again. The sound 
 of footsteps had died away. Mr. Jellybond helped him- 
 self to a kiss. 
 
 * For shame, sir !" said Bertha, " and you a gentleman!" 
 
 "A bird in the hand, my dear, is worth two er in the 
 drawing-room," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. " But be 
 advised. Take care of that head of yours, not to lose it." 
 
 "And why not my heart ?" she answered, pertly. 
 
 " Because the little heart you have doesn't matter. 
 It's a light ommodity, a girl's heart, a little air-balloon 
 attached by a string, so that she can let it go and pull it 
 back again. The oftener she lets it go the more fun 
 she has, only she should see to it that the string is fast. 
 But with the head it is different. If you lose your head, 
 it's the devil. Now take me to the school-room and 
 announce me nicely." 
 
 Babs was sitting in the window, thinking of Caden- 
 house, and longing for the light ; but all was mist and 
 murk in the direction of the Tower. 
 
 " Miss Lorraine," said Bertha, opening the door, * Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney wishes to see you." 
 
 " Show the brute in," said Babs, indifferently, just 
 turning her head, but not rising. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond entered the room and bowed low. Ber- 
 tha retired, shutting the door after her. 
 N 193
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Babs slightly inclined her head, but the expression of 
 her face made the politeness ironical. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney waited for her to commit her- 
 self ; she waited for Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 " May I take a seat T he said, at ^st. 
 
 " As many as you like/' she answered, shortly, and 
 turned once more to the Tower. There was another 
 pause, during which Mr. Jellybond Tinney blinked con- 
 templatively at Babs and did some mental summing up. 
 
 " Miss Babs," he ventured again, " why do you treat 
 me so badly ? have never done you any harm, yet 
 you call me a brute and throw dead fowls at me." 
 
 Babs burst out laughing. 
 
 " By-the-way," she said, suddenly recovering herself, 
 " what did you do with the fowls ?" 
 
 " 1 came to ask you what you would like me to do with 
 them," Mr. Jellybond was inspired to reply. " 1 heard 
 that you are supposed to have been here all day, so 1 
 have not mentioned your extraordinary conduct this 
 afternoon. 1 never tell tales." 
 
 " Good old gentleman !" said Babs. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond writhed, but he held his peace. He had 
 begun under the impression that he had Babs in his 
 power, and that she would recognize the fact and appre- 
 ciate his magnanimity, but as Babs seemed to have 
 other ideas in her head, he thought it advisable to change 
 his tactics. 
 
 " Of course," he proceeded, " if upon reflection it ap- 
 pears to me that 1 ought to mention your conduct to your 
 mother " 
 
 " You'll do so, however much it may cost you 1" Babs 
 put in. "1 know ! And if you do, won't there be a 
 jolly row !" She turned towards him energetically. 
 " Do you know, 1 love a good row, " she exclaimed. " Let's 
 plan it ! You must ' regret that it is your painful duty ' 
 But how about the witch with the red ribbons ? She 
 
 194
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 must come in, too, she's so picturesque. Of course I 
 shall deny everything that you assert that's part of 
 the fun. And I'll invent a lot of things about you. 
 Oh, it will be exciting \" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond's jaw had gradually dropped as Babs 
 rattled on. He gazed at her with bent brows in great 
 perplexity. 
 
 " You look pained," she observed. 
 
 " 1 am," he answered. " Your flippancy pains me. 
 Your poor mother " 
 
 He shook his head, and left the rest to the imagina- 
 tion. It was a stroke of genius. Babs's volatility was 
 all on the surface, and when the depths below were 
 stirred it disappeared She had seen her mother's face 
 all distorted with tears on one occasion, and every time 
 she thought of it she prayed that she might never, never 
 suffer that sight again. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond saw that she was moved. 
 
 " Come, Babs," he said, kindly, " let us make a bar- 
 gain, you and 1. Let us be friends. You must feel 
 that you did not do the right thing this afternoon." 
 
 " Well, 1 was provoked," said Babs, yielding that point. 
 
 " But, my dear child, what had I done to provoke you ?" 
 
 " You had done everything," said Babs, " and left me 
 nothing to do. I had only those wretched fowls to take, 
 and you have such a lot of money you can always be 
 helping poor people. I can so seldom do anything. And 
 when Aunt Lorraine and mamma and everybody were 
 so horrid about Susannah, i would have been some 
 comfort to me to have helped her myself." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney could make nothing of all this. 
 
 " Susannah ? Who is Susannah ?" he asked, in bewil- 
 derment. 
 
 " Don't you know ?" said Babs, in turn surprised. 
 
 " Never in my life have I known any one of that 
 name.'
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " But she lives at Thorne Lodge." 
 
 " No one lives at Thorne Lodge now but the er old 
 lady you saw there to-day." 
 
 " She used to live there, then." 
 
 " Ah, that may be. Now I think of it, when I first 
 came here some disreputable people had the place, but 
 were turned out for not paying their rent." 
 
 " I made a mistake, then," said Babs. " I beg your 
 pardon. I'm sorry I threw the fowls at you for noth- 
 ing." 
 
 " Babs," Mr. Jellybond said, solemnly, rising as he 
 spoke, " I freely forgive you. And I only ask one favor. 
 When you do kind things, you keep it to yourself, I'm 
 sure. So do I. And I don't want my visit to that poor 
 old lady at Thorne Lodge to be talked about." 
 
 * All right," said Babs. " I'll not mention it. But I 
 say, Mr. Jellybond, just tell me one thing between our- 
 selves, to satisfy my burning curiosity. Last night 
 did you really think it was ' cats ' ?" 
 
 The question passed through him like an electric 
 shock. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" he gasped. 
 
 She grinned. He took a step towards her. 
 
 " Don't shake me !" she exclaimed, in mock alarm. 
 "You'll never make me believe you did think it was 
 ' cats,' and Ally Spice doesn't think you did, either. 
 She's got a bad cold, and doesn't love you any more." 
 
 " Then that was your doing ?" he exclaimed. " Miss 
 Lorraine Kingconstance, you're a perfect little devil, 
 and I wish everybody connected with you joy of you." 
 
 " Thank you/' said Babs. 
 
 It was a happy home scene of the most reassuring 
 kind that Mr. Jellybond Tinney looked in upon in the 
 blue drawing-room for the second time that evening 
 at least, so it appeared to him and his heart warmed to 
 
 . 196
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 it. He cultivated all the pleasant emotions. But the 
 appearance of comfort and luxury was purely objective 
 a mere matter of ornamentation, of subdued lights, 
 harmonious coloring, silken hangings, easy -chairs, 
 chintz and china, pictures and Persian carpets. Every- 
 thing that could be purchased to help the effect was 
 there ; but of that subtle essence which should have 
 flavored the whole, the essence of content "our best 
 having," which is not to be bought, nor to be had for 
 the asking, but must, be earned there was none. 
 
 People talk glibly of sudden changes, but the proba- 
 bility is that in most cases, had they been observant, 
 they would have had ample warning of what was com- 
 ing. Uneasiness was in the air at Dane Court that even- 
 ing, and everybody felt it, but no one rendered an ac- 
 count of it to themselves in order to consider it in the 
 light of a premonition. Julia and Montacute, who were 
 seated at a little table playing backgammon, wer^ put- 
 ting more passion than pleasure into the game. Miss 
 Kingconstance had tried to read, but the rattle of the 
 dice and the squabbles of the players distracted her, and 
 she put down her book in despair. She was sitting now 
 with her elbows on the arms of her chair, her head rest- 
 ing on the cushion at the back, her eyes fixed on the ceil- 
 ing, and the tips of her slender fingers met in an arch 
 before her an attitude well calculated to conceal the in- 
 tense irritation which was working under the deliberate 
 calm of her appearance. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was looking a trifle less placid 
 than usual. Her fingers were busy with her lace-work, 
 and it was apparent that her mind was also busy, but 
 with something less agreeable. The truth was, she had 
 been a little put out at dinner because her cook had sub- 
 stituted sauce Tartare for the sauce Hollandaise, which 
 she was sure she had ordered. Having expected sauce 
 Hollandaise all day, and being particularly fond of it, it 
 
 197
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 was natural that she should be put out when sauce Tar- 
 tare, to which she was indifferent, appeared. Then, too, 
 as she glanced from time to time at the children, she be- 
 came aware of the fact that Julia had grown out of her 
 frock. It was a black velvet frock with a crimson sash 
 of soft silk, and had been very becoming to Julia when 
 she first wore it. Then she had been in that ugly stage 
 of a girl's growth when the legs and arms are too thin, 
 the hands too large, and the feet too long, and a short 
 frock was the right thing for her ; but now, on a sudden, 
 she seemed to have filled out, her limbs were almost in 
 proportion, and she was certainly showing too much 
 good leg to be quite nice. This observation caused Mrs. 
 Kingconstance to reflect that the girls were growing up ; 
 and somehow the circumstance made her uneasy. She 
 was only thirty-eight herself, and looked even less in the 
 evening, and she had not had much of a life, after all. 
 The children had been so sweet, too, as little things ; 
 what would they be by-and-by ? And a young mother 
 with her little ones about her is always interesting ; but 
 a mother with grown-up daughters ! What possibilities 
 are left in life for her ? Mrs. Kingconstance began to 
 feel hurried. It was evident that she must be quick if 
 she would have any more joy of her youth. 
 
 A slight commotion in the air caused her to look up. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney stood in the doorway, gazing at 
 her. 
 
 " Am I disturbing you ?" he asked. 
 
 * Pleasantly," she replied, holding out her hand to 
 him. He seemed to have come in answer to her thoughts, 
 and she was too startled to utter another word ; but he 
 saw how it was with her, and sat down, feeling well sat- 
 isfied. 
 
 The others were equally pleased to see him, but for 
 different reasons. Relations between Julia and Mon- 
 tacute were becoming strained to the uttermost, and 
 
 198
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Julia was glad of an excuse to put an end to the game 
 in dispute by adroitly upsetting the little table on which 
 they were playing as she jumped up to greet Mr. Jelly- 
 bond. Julia liked him for the nice things he took oc- 
 casion to say about her dark eyes, her raven hair, and 
 the delicate damask of her cheeks, when by chance they 
 were alone together. Miss Kingconstance did not like 
 him, but she welcomed him now for the relief he brought 
 her from the rattle of the dice. 
 
 " And what has everybody been doing ?" said Mr. 
 Jellybond. 
 
 Julia sat down on the floor beside her mother and 
 rested her head against her knee caressingly. 
 
 " We went for a walk together, Montacute and I," she 
 said. " It was rather jolly because of the storm. We 
 nearly caught a young hare." 
 
 " We should have caught it if you hadn't shrieked, 
 ' Oh, what a sweetie-sweetie !' just when you should 
 have held your tongue/' said Montacute. 
 
 " Of course I can do nothing right for you !" Julia re- 
 joined, with a provoking smile. " If Babs had been 
 there it would have been different." 
 
 " Yes, it would have been different," he answered, 
 dryly. 
 
 " Poor Babs !" said Miss Kingconstance. 
 
 " Why ' poor,' Lorraine, if you please ?" said Mrs. 
 Kingconstance ; then, turning to Mr. Jellybond, " You 
 can guess why she is not here to-night, I suppose ?" 
 
 " I know," he answered, feelingly. " I heard when I 
 arrived that she had been in the school- room all day, and 
 I took the liberty of going to see her first, and er 
 having a little chat with her." 
 
 " How' kind of you !" her mother exclaimed. 
 
 Montacute bridled visibly. 
 
 " What was the subject of your improving conversa- 
 tion ?" he asked. 
 
 199
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Mr. Jellybond, scenting an attack for which he was 
 unprepared, blinked hard in search of a suitable reply. 
 Miss Kingconstance came to the rescue with a remark. 
 
 " What good do you suppose is done by keeping Babs 
 in all day ?" she said. 
 
 " My dear Lorraine, she must be punished," Mrs. 
 Kingconstance exclaimed. " You heard what she said. 
 She's always saying dreadful things." 
 
 " She doesn't mean much she's hot-tempered," said 
 Montacute. 
 
 " But why should she be hot-tempered ?" his mother 
 asked. "I never was." 
 
 " You're different, mother," he replied. " Babs has 
 queer notions, and she's always crossed when she men- 
 tions them, and that makes her fly out." 
 
 " But why should she have queer notions ? 7 never 
 had," Mrs. Kingconstance expostulated. " I don't think 
 it at all nice for a girl to have queer notions, nor for 
 anybody to have queer notions ; do you, Mr. Jelly- 
 bond ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," he answered, emphatically, " and I 
 think they should be got out of her head somehow, for 
 they certainly make her quite er quite unbearable." 
 
 " You are criticising my sister somewhat freely, are 
 you not, sir ?" sa'd Montacute, with deceptive evenness. 
 
 For the second time Mr. Jellybond Tinney was taken 
 aback. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance smiled approval at her young 
 nephew. 
 
 " 1 think myself the shutting-up is a mistake," she 
 said, decidedly. 
 
 " But what am 1 to do ?" Mrs. Kingconstance helpless- 
 ly ejaculated, looking at Mr. Jellybond. 
 
 But that observant gentleman, warned by a gleam in 
 Montacute's eye, ignored the appeal. 
 
 " Do you think 1 ought to have let her go out this 
 
 200
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 afternoon ?" Mrs. Kingconstance plaintively inquired. 
 " It would have been better for her health, perhaps." 
 
 " Don't worry yourself about Babs, mamma/' Julia 
 said, laughing. " She always manages to have a good 
 time. You may be sure she wouldn't stay in a moment 
 longer than she felt inclined." 
 
 " Oh, but when 1 tell her I" Mrs. Kingconstance ex- 
 claimed. " She would never dare to disobey me." 
 
 " I don't know about disobey," said Julia. " Babs 
 has a way of forgetting things that she doesn't want to 
 remember. And 1 expect she forgot this afternoon." 
 
 " Why ! Did she go out this afternoon ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, and had great fun,Clodd told me, "said Julia, 
 casually. " She let all Farmer Horner's sheep into our 
 wheat in Westbrook field." 
 
 " Oh, how wicked of her 1" her mother cried. " She 
 really must be punished for that, and severely too. Her 
 conduct is perfectly outrageous. I must give up trying 
 to manage her myself. She is quite beyond me. What 
 do you think, Mr. Jellybond ?" 
 
 " 1 pass the question on to Mr. Montacute," Mr. Jelly- 
 bond answered, largely. 
 
 " 1 don't believe that story about the sheep," Monta- 
 cute protested. 
 
 " Nor I," said Mr. Jellybond. 
 
 " Well, Clodd told me," said Julia, confidently. 
 
 * 1 dare say Babs hasn't been out of the school-room at 
 all," her brother persisted " She was there when 1 
 went out, and she was there just before dinner." 
 
 " We might send and see," Mrs. Kingconstance sug- 
 gested. 
 
 * I saw her come in," Julia declared. 
 
 " Oh, ah, then that settles the question of her having 
 been out," Mr. Jellybond observed, reflectively. " But 
 as to the sheep story, 1 cannot believe it. Miss Lorraine 
 is not wilfully destructive. Besides, now 1 come to 
 
 201
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 think of it, Westbrook field is not down in wheat this 
 year." He knew every inch of the property. " Oh, dear 
 me, no ; neither is it next to Farmer Horner's sheep-run. 
 Why, let me see, it must be quite yes quite three 
 fields away." 
 
 " So it is," said Mrs. Kingconstance, much relieved. 
 
 Julia turned crimson. 
 
 " What could Clodd mean by telling you such a story, 
 Julia ?" her mother said. 
 
 Julia looked sulky and confused, but would not an- 
 swer. 
 
 " How did you come to be speaking to him at all ?" her 
 aunt asked her. 
 
 " 1 heard him tell Babs he had done something for 
 her," she answered, " and 1 asked him what it was, and 
 that was what he told me." 
 
 " Hoaxed you, in fact," said Montacute. 
 
 " 1 really must have this cleared up," Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance exclaimed, impatiently. "Go and fetch Babs, 
 one of you, and let us ask her to explain." 
 
 " She'll tell the truth, at all events," said Montacute, 
 rising with alacrity to obey. 
 
 That was what Mr. Jelly bond feared. In spite of their 
 compact he could not be sure of Babs, and if she were to 
 come now and tell the whole story how would he be able 
 to explain his own reticence ? 
 
 " One moment, Montacute," he said, " before you dis- 
 turb your sister she was just going to bed when I left 
 her. Why should we assume that she has been in mis- 
 chief because she went out? I should think, probably, 
 she only went to feed her pets which, of course, she 
 would be allowed to do." 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 
 " Well, and she met Clodd, who told her that he had 
 fed them for her." 
 
 " That's it, I'm sure," said Montacute. " And Julia 
 
 202
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 began to question Clodd, and it amused him to hoax 
 her." 
 
 " A most disrespectful thing to do/' Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance exclaimed. 
 
 " He shall smart for it/' Julia vowed. 
 
 " There is an old saying which seems to me apropos/' 
 Mr. Jellybond ventured. " Ask no questions and you'll 
 have no er difficulties with the servants." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance yawned aggressively 
 
 203
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 ON his way home Mr. Jellybond had to pass the 
 cottage in which Clodd Dulditch lived alone, 
 now that his mother had gone out to service 
 again. There was a light in the window, and 
 it occurred to Mr. Jellybond that it would not be a bad 
 thing to go in and have a talk with Clodd. Mr. Jelly- 
 bond thought it would be just as well to know what had 
 been going on that afternoon, in case of further compli- 
 cations, and he did not doubt but that Clodd could tell 
 him. He tapped sharply at the door. 
 
 " Who's there ?" was the surly response from within. 
 
 " Open the door, my good fellow," Mr. Jellybond an- 
 swered, impressively. 
 
 " Oh, it's you, sir, is it?" said Clodd. " Come in and 
 take a seat." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond held his head up so that he always 
 seemed to be surveying the ceiling when he entered a 
 room. This attitude gives an easy air of indifference to 
 the most calculated move. It was therefore without ap- 
 parent intention that he took the chair from which Clodd 
 had just risen, at the little round table by the fire, and 
 glanced casually at a paper on which Clodd had been 
 making figures by the light of a tallow candle. 
 
 The cottage consisted of three rooms the kitchen and 
 the two bedrooms. The kitchen was panelled, sides 
 and ceiling, with wood darkened by age. It looked 
 cosey with cottage comfort in the nickering firelight. A 
 settle stood on one side of the fireplace. The high man- 
 
 204 ,
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 tel-piece was ornamented with the family china, which 
 consisted of a shepherd and shepherdess, two yellow 
 bulldogs with blue spots, and a castle with a lord on the 
 door-step and a lady at the window. The dresser was 
 covered with blue crockery, polished tins shone on the 
 walls, and the sanded floor was of the brightest brick- 
 red, in pleasant contrast to the yellow hearth. Every- 
 thing was exceedingly neat and clean, and altogether 
 there was that well-kept air about the whole place which 
 is usually associated with the loving care of a woman. 
 But it was Clodd himself who kept it so, and the fact 
 seemed to indicate that he was not such a lout as was 
 supposed. 
 
 " You have been busy, I see," said Mr. Jellybond, pat- 
 ronizingly, " busy improving your mind in a way which 
 is extremely creditable to you extremely creditable," 
 he repeated, looking close at the paper on which Clodd 
 appeared to have been making calculations. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond scanned the paper attentively for a 
 minute or so. Clodd seated himself on the settle op- 
 posite and scanned Mr. Jellybond. Most people would 
 have objected to this inquisition, but Clodd seemed 
 rather to enjoy it. He watched Mr. Jellybond with a 
 broad grin on his face as that gentleman laboriously 
 deciphered some curious items, such as, " Yrly say 20 
 gents good for a fiver apiece at least ladyes 2/6 xept 
 No I whod be sure to stan lots 2 christmassings 5 
 errans odd ones wen out with traps and informa- 
 shuns 9." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond was puzzled. 
 
 " From what book did you get your propositions ?" 
 he asked at last, blandly. 
 
 " I don't rightly know the name o' the book," said 
 Clodd. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond, glancing at the paper again, seemed 
 suddenly to comprehend. 
 
 205
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Clodd," he said, apologetically, 
 " I see now. These are private accounts. What a mis- 
 fortune it is to be near-sighted 1 I really thought you 
 had been working a sum. Why did you let me think 
 so?" 
 
 Clodd, looking hard at him, continued to grin, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 " I see you're a man of few words, Mr. Clodd," Mr. 
 Jellybond observed, genially. " Well, you are wise, 
 for, as the poet says, ' Alas ! we know not what we do 
 when we speak words/ * 
 
 " The man as agrees to that's a fool," said Clodd. 
 
 " I'm afraid I must claim that distinction, then." 
 
 " No, not you," Clodd rejoined. " Every one knows 
 that you're no fool. The man as doesn't know what 'is 
 words is like to do's a fool I ses it and I sticks to it. 
 But that man doesn't call himself Jellybond Tinney." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney changed countenance, but he 
 affected to laugh. 
 
 " Clodd, I believe you're a wit," he said, " although, if 
 you are, your countenance does not betray you. Wit, 
 Clodd, is a valuable possession. Now " this confi- 
 dentially " I don't mind telling you I never was witty." 
 
 " Maybe," said Clodd. " But I'll take my dick you 
 allus had your wits about you." 
 
 An uneasy feeling began to take possession of Mr. 
 Jellybond. There was more than mere boorishness in 
 the assured familiarity of Clodd's manner ; upon what 
 was he presuming ? Mr. Jellybond determined to get 
 to business at once in the hope of finding out by the 
 way. 
 
 * It was very good of you," he began, without further 
 circumlocution " it was very good of you to make all 
 smooth for Miss Lorraine to-day, Clodd very good, in- 
 deed. She might have got into serious trouble, you 
 know, but for you eh ?" 
 
 206
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 The grin which had been fixed on Clodd's face from 
 the moment Mr. Jellybond entered suddenly vanished, 
 and was succeeded by a gravely inquiring expression. 
 His eyes opened unexpectedly wide, his mouth contract- 
 ed, and Clodd stood confessed by no means such a bad- 
 looking fellow as people who saw him only with his ha- 
 bitual half-idiotic smile on his face were apt to suppose. 
 But, beyond the unexpected change of countenance, 
 Clodd made no sign, neither did he say anything. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond waited a moment, then tried again. 
 
 " And the fowls, Clodd," he said, benignly " don't 
 you think it was a pity ?" 
 
 " Which, sir ?" said Clodd, recovering his grin. 
 
 " Why" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond hesitated. If Clodd knew nothing about 
 the fowls, he reflected, it would be a mistake to tell 
 him. On the other hand, how was Mr. Jellybond to 
 find out what he wanted to know without betraying 
 what he knew already ? They might go on fencing 
 about the subject for the rest of the night and get no fur- 
 ther. Mr. Jellybond began to feel provoked. He was 
 determined, however, not to be baffled by a clown like 
 Clodd. 
 
 " I came to ask you," he said, speaking authorita- 
 tively, "what you meant by the lie you told Miss Julia 
 this evening ?" 
 
 " Whew-w-w 1" whistled Clodd, more at his ease than 
 ever. " So that's your little game, is it ? I thought 
 you were up to somethin'. I know'd as yer 'fectionate 
 interest in us was too sweet ter be wholesome. Well, 
 you'll not get nothin' out o' me, you may take yer dick 
 o' that." 
 
 " How dare you speak to me like that, sir ?" Mr. Jelly- 
 bond exclaimed, rising wrathfully. 
 
 " 'Ow dare you come a-pumpin' o' me, sir ?" Clodd re- 
 joined, mimicking his tone impudently. 
 
 207
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Look here now, Clodd," Mr. Jellybond said, after a 
 moment's reflection, " it's no good losing your temper." 
 
 * Never felt less like it i' my life, sir," said Clodd, with 
 a grin which fully corroborated the statement. 
 
 There was a pause, during which Mr. Jellybond re- 
 turned to his grand manner. 
 
 " 1 had better tell you at once," he said, slowly, " that 
 I have come to obtain a full explanation from you of 
 what happened this afternoon." 
 
 " I'll be hanged if I'll split on Miss Babs," Clodd an- 
 swered, doggedly. 
 
 " You are quite right, my good fellow," Mr. Jellybond 
 blandly assured him. " Loyalty is the most noble of 
 qualities. Never betray a friend ; but draw a distinction 
 between friends and enemies. Now 1 am a friend of 
 Miss Lorraine's, and 1 come to question for myself, be- 
 cause 1 am just as anxious to save her from getting 
 into trouble as you are. If you will tell me the exact 
 truth, then 1 shall know how much of it should be used 
 to screen the young lady. Everybody knows she was 
 up to something this afternoon, and," he added, confi- 
 dentially, " 1 know pretty well what ; so if you want to 
 save her you had better be honest with me." 
 
 Clodd stroked his chin and stared at Mr. Jellybond 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "An' why shouldn't I tell jest what's enough myself ?" 
 he said, at last. " They say as three can't keep a secret." 
 
 * Now look here, Mr. Clodd," Mr. Jellybond said, stern- 
 ly, " I'll have no nonsense. I'll give you gold if you tell 
 me the truth, and I'll give you a licking if you don't." 
 
 " Will yew, sir ?" said Clodd, defiantly. "An' if ye gie 
 me a lickin', I'll hev yew up fur assault, an' if yew kill 
 me, yew'll swing fur it an' 'ow'll that be fur yer 
 schemes ?" 
 
 " Who'd take your word against mine, I'd like to know, 
 you lout?" 
 
 208
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " There's plenty as 'ud think ill o' yew wi' pleasure," 
 said Clodd ; " an' yew might as well 'ang a dog at once 
 as give 'im a bad name, yew may 'ave 'eard. You're 
 mighty clever, Mr. Jellybond, but I'm a match fur yew. 
 Yew likes to worm yerself into folks' affairs, but I'm 
 deshed if yew gets a 'old ower Miss Lorraine through 
 me. I'll not tell nothin', an' wot's more," he added, 
 edging up to Mr. Jellybond with both fists clinched, 
 " yew'll pay me to 'old my tongue before yew leave this 
 'ouse." 
 
 " You'll lose your place for this !" said Mr. Jellybond, 
 wrathfully. 
 
 "An' if I do, I can get another," said Clodd ; " but if 
 1 do, yew'll lose yer repetation, and yew'll not get an- 
 other." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" Mr. Jellybond demanded. 
 
 "Jest what I ses," rejoined Clodd, and added some- 
 thing in an undertone which caused Mr. Jellybond's 
 dignity to collapse visibly. 
 
 " But where are your proofs ?" he asked, in an altered 
 voice. 
 
 " My proofs are wot yew call livin' witnesses," said 
 Clodd "Jim Townly, Jessie Horner, and old Patty 
 Groves. They was all in t' next parish less nor a 'un- 
 dred years ago." 
 
 " Where are they now ?" 
 
 " Lunnon. They doesn't know where yew are, though, 
 an' they won't unless 1 split. Now I don't want to split, 
 cause 1 likes to turn a honest penny, an' so, if you'll 
 do summat fur me, I'll do summat fur yew." 
 
 " Blackmail, eh ?" said Mr. Jellybond. 
 
 Clodd blinked at him. 
 
 " 1 don't know about that," he said ; " but it's ten pun 
 
 to-night, an' a rekermendation to learn the business o' 
 
 footman i' the missus's establishment to-morrow. 1's 
 
 yer 'ousekeeper's only son, yew know," Clodd added, with 
 
 o 209
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 a wink, " an' she's a 'onest woman, an' I'm a tolerable 
 lad a bit rough now, maybe, but the kind o' stone as '11 
 take a polish." 
 
 " Does she know ?" Mr. Jellybond asked. 
 
 "Who? Mother? Not she! She wouldn't keep it to 
 'erself if she knowed. Mother's a bad business woman." 
 
 " And if 1 pay you and give you the recommendation," 
 Jellybond bargained, " will you hold your tongue ?" 
 
 " Yes. I'll swear to that so long as yer civil to me. 
 But I'll stan' no puttin' upon, so 1 gives yew fair warn- 
 in'." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond put the two five-pound notes down on 
 the table, but kept his hand on them. 
 
 " It is a bargain, then," he said. " You will not trouble 
 me for more ?" 
 
 " Done with yew upon oath," Clodd replied, stretching 
 his hand out for the money. 
 
 " Oh, by-the-by, one thing more. You can tell me 
 this," Mr. Jellybond exclaimed : " Does Miss Lorraine 
 know anything ?" 
 
 " That's not included," said CJodd, astutely. " I'll tell 
 you that for another sovereign/* 
 
 Mr. Jellybond put the money down on the table with 
 a clink. 
 
 " Now," he said, irritably, " what does she know ?" 
 
 Clodd snatched the money and pocketed it. 
 
 " She doan't know nothing" he said, deliberately, " an' 
 wot's more, she don't suspect nothin', else she'd find 
 out soon enough, fur she's a sharp "un," he added, ad- 
 miringly ; " an* that's the truth fur yew, sir." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond crushed his hat down on his head but 
 said nothing Clodd opened the door for him respect- 
 fully and wished him a pleasant walk home. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond departed with at least one doubt re- 
 solved. It was evident that Clodd the wary was by no 
 means the fool he chose to appear. 
 
 210
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THERE is this about Mr. Jellybond Tinney which 
 it is always pleasant to contemplate he did 
 enjoy himself. " Enjoy as you go along," he 
 was continually saying : " enjoy the little 
 things." The worst of it was that in his own case the 
 little things were beginning to absorb his attention to 
 the exclusion of all else. So far he had been an emi- 
 nently successful man, just because he had kept his 
 main object always in view and allowed no minor mat- 
 ters to interest him for more than a moment. Now all 
 his interests were in minor matters, and the great pur- 
 pose which had brought him to Danehurst, the finishing 
 touch which he had intended to put to his career to 
 crown it, was being insensibly postponed. His purpose 
 had been to marry and to go into Parliament ; and that 
 was his purpose still ; but he no longer pursued it stead- 
 ily. At first he had thought to carry it out with as lit- 
 tle delay as possible, as had been his habit with other 
 purposes of his life ; now he was beginning to think that 
 " some day " would be soon enough. He was becoming 
 more like the only half-successful man who starts in 
 life well equipped, but discounts his chances by expend- 
 ing his energy on many things because he finds he can 
 do them well, instead of concentrating all his strength 
 upon the one which he would, in that case, have done 
 to perfection. It was not the things to which he had 
 been accustomed all his life that betrayed him ; it was 
 his new experiences the society of ladies, for one thing. 
 
 2IT
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He was becoming more accustomed to it now ; but at 
 first it had intoxicated him to be with gentlewomen ; and 
 he had not been able to settle down steadily to the pur- 
 suit of one for desire of them all. Then there was nov- 
 el-reading. He had read a novel for the first time after 
 he came to Danehurst, and had found it so entrancing 
 that soon his days began and ended with a novel, al- 
 though there were more serious studies which it was 
 urgently necessary that he should pursue if he would 
 succeed. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney had no worries, for the very 
 simple reason that he would not worry himself. He let 
 nothing disturb him for more than a moment. That 
 Clodd should know whence he came had been a shock ; 
 but he had recovered himself before he reached home. 
 Clodd had so evidently an eye to his own interests, and 
 they would be served so much the best by holding his 
 tongue, that Mr. Jellybond saw no danger from that 
 quarter. On the contrary, Clodd might be made useful 
 now in a way that would have been impossible had he 
 not been guilty of blackmailing. Mr. Jellybond, there- 
 fore, dismissed him from his mind when he reached 
 home, lit a cigar, poured himself out a bumper of bur- 
 gundy, stretched himself on a couch, and took up his 
 book. It was Vanity Fair, and when he had read 
 some time he reflected : " It's really best to be quite 
 straight the straighter the better ; that's always been 
 my principle, and if it hasn't always been my practice, 
 Fate was at fault." 
 
 The sunny morning found him alert and cheery, with 
 his mind intent upon a host of what he called " little 
 duties " enough to fill up his day. There was Miss 
 Spice, to begin with. Mr. Jellybond had dismissed 
 from his mind all knowledge of the serenade. All he 
 knew now was that he had heard that Miss Spice was ill, 
 and he was going, as was right and proper, to ask after 
 
 212
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 her. He went with a book under his arm, and a basket 
 of good things, carefully covered with flowers, in his 
 hand. Poor little Ally Spice ! He was really quite con- 
 cerned about her. 
 
 Miss Spice was down in the drawing-room that morn- 
 ing, lying on the couch. Fanny Sturdy and Florence 
 Japp had dropped in casually to see how she was. They 
 were both curious to know what had upset her. Some- 
 thing had been said about a shock to the system ; but 
 what shock to the system was possible in her way of 
 life ? They associated shocks to the system with im- 
 portant people. 
 
 " I am sure I wish I could have a shock to my system," 
 said Florence Japp, with a discontented frown, " or any- 
 thing else for a change." 
 
 She took her lot in life tragically ; Fanny Sturdy was 
 dreamy and apathetic. 
 
 "Ah, little you know!" said Miss Spice "little you 
 know ! 7 used to think that a change would be for the 
 better, especially a change of ideas ; but now now " 
 she shook her head expressively and sighed " now I 
 would give the world to go back to the days when 1 
 thought sc." 
 
 " But what happened to you, Ally ?" Florence asked. 
 
 " That no one will ever know," said Miss Spice. "All 
 I can say is that I dreamt a dream, and I had a rude 
 awakening. Life will never be the same to me any 
 more. It is not that my hopes were vain that would 
 not have pained me so much. It is the shattering of my 
 ideal which has overwhelmed me." 
 
 " Something gone wrong in London, I suppose," said 
 Florence Japp, after casting about in her mind vainly 
 for somebody in Danehurst who was likely to have been 
 Miss Spice's ideal. " You have a lot of friends in Lon- 
 don, haven't you ? I wish I had. 1 should like to live 
 in London and see the shops every day. There's al- 
 
 213
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ways something to do there something to look for- 
 ward to." 
 
 "Ah !" said Fanny Sturdy, " one would have a chance 
 there ; one would feel alive." 
 
 They sat in silence for some time, all three with their 
 eyes fixed on the long road that ran south the long, 
 straight road by which no one interesting ever came. 
 Fanny Sturdy was sitting near the window, so that she 
 could see down the road to the right as well the road 
 that led to the village. 
 
 " Here's Mr. Jellybond," she said, presently, in an in- 
 different tone. 
 
 Florence Japp's eyes dilated ; Miss Spice became rigid. 
 
 " Not coming here ?" she managed to articulate. 
 
 But even as she spoke, the big, bland man with the 
 unsmiling mouth stopped at the little gate. 
 
 " I'll let him in," said Florence Japp, jumping up ex- 
 citedly and going out into the hall. She shut the door 
 carefully after her, so that nothing but a murmur of 
 voices could be heard in the drawing-room. After a 
 considerable delay she returned, looking radiant. 
 
 " Mr. Jellybond Tinney !" she announced, playfully. 
 
 Miss Spice was paralyzed. 
 
 He came in as on any ordinary occasion, carrying 
 the book and the basket. 
 
 " How are you, Miss Fanny ?" he said, by-the-way, 
 "And our dear Miss Ally ? Really poorly, I see. Well, 
 so 1 was told ; but 1 hoped 1 hoped the bearer of the bad 
 news exaggerated. However, 1 hurried here at once, as 
 soon as 1 heard, to ascertain the truth for myself, and 1 
 ventured to bring this basket, with a few flowers and a 
 book. For 1 thought if perchance 1 found you alone 
 which was not likely, for Danehurst knows that good 
 people are scarce and looks after them eh, Miss Flor- 
 ence ? 1 brought the book, thinking you might like me 
 to read to you, if you were disinclined to talk." 
 
 214
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He had taken Miss Spice's hot little hand and held it 
 in his while he was speaking. He knew the effect of his 
 firm, cool touch upon her, and watched it working. In- 
 dignation and anger were in her face when he entered, 
 but were fast succeeded by dumb reproach, then by un- 
 certainty. Could she have been mistaken ? She must 
 have been mistaken. He did think it was "cats." It 
 was evident that he had not even suspected her. 
 
 Miss Spice experienced a delicious revulsion of feeling. 
 Had they been alone together she must have thrown 
 herself into the dear man's arms ; as it was, her pent-up 
 emotion found vent in tears. Mr. Jelly bond saw them 
 coming, and skilfully placed himself between her and 
 the other ladies, so that she was able to wipe her eyes un- 
 observed. When she had sufficiently recovered herself 
 he proceeded to make the conversation general. 
 
 "And how does the work prosper, Miss Fanny ?" he 
 asked. " I always wish we men could do fancy-work ! 
 It must be such a solace to see those lovely things shape 
 themselves under your skilful fingers !" 
 
 " When one hasn't too much of it," Fanny sighed. 
 
 " But what's the good of those things when they're 
 done ?" said Florence. " I can't be bothered with such 
 useless work." 
 
 " Oh, not useless 1" he remonstrated. " Nothing that 
 beautifies life can be called useless." 
 
 " May I give will you accept that chair-back when 
 it is finished ?" Fanny Sturdy stammered, diffidently. 
 
 " You are too kind," Mr. Jellybond exclaimed. " Is 
 she not, Miss Ally ?" 
 
 Miss Spice, from her sofa, smiled on them all impar- 
 tially ; but, oh ! how she did wish that her dear lady 
 friends would go and leave him to her. Fortunately 
 for her comfort, however, she supposed that that also 
 was his desire. Not the shadow of a doubt of the dear 
 man remained in her innocent bosom. 
 
 215
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * It is such a lovely morning/' Mr. Jellybond remarked, 
 " you ought really to have your windows wide open. 
 Will you allow me ? There will be no draught. It is 
 draughts that are dangerous." 
 
 He opened the window wide, and little Miss Spice 
 heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction as the sweet air flood- 
 ed the room. 
 
 " Does that long road to the south make you think of 
 anything, Miss Florence ?" Mr. Jellybond asked. 
 
 Florence looked vaguety down the road and then in- 
 quiringly at Mr. Jellybond. He tapped the book he had 
 brought with him. 
 
 " It is here I read it only this morning," he said. 
 " Tennyson, you know ' Fatima ' : 
 
 "'I look'd athwart the burning drouth 
 Of that long desert to the south.'" 
 
 All eyes were directed towards the window, and seri- 
 ousness settled upon them, as if something sacred had 
 been said. 
 
 " Tennyson is a revelation to me," he ejaculated. 
 " But I perceive a difference between you three young 
 ladies and er Fatima. Her knight er had come 
 and gone apparently ; but yours is still to come ! Lucky 
 girls, with life before you ! Make the most of it. A 
 bird in the hand er sings better than two in the bush." 
 
 " How do you explain that ?" said Miss Spice, always 
 ready to be instructed. 
 
 " Well er in the usual way," he answered. " It is 
 the things we have not got which hold out to us all the 
 promise of pleasure in life, so we imagine ; but that is 
 the mistake we make. Life, when we view it aright, is 
 all pleasure and all promise and all present interest. 
 Just consider how strange it is. What odd things hap- 
 pen ! And how odd the things are that do not happen ! 
 Have you ever reflected upon that ? Just think, for in- 
 
 216
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 stance, how seldom any one ever falls out of bed. Now 
 there is a bed, a certain height from the ground, with 
 unprotected sides except in the case of infants and 
 absolutely nothing to keep us from falling out every 
 night of our lives ; yet just think how seldom that acci- 
 dent happens;! Why do we not fall out of bed ? That 
 is the question why do we not find ourselves sitting 
 on the floor every night of our lives ? What law pre- 
 vents it ? Oh yes, life is full of such problems full of 
 fresh interests if only we tried to find them." 
 
 Mr. Worringham came in at the gate at that moment, 
 and seeing Florence Japp at the window, addressed her. 
 
 " I hear Miss Ally has been ill," he said ; " but I hope 
 it is not true." 
 
 " Miss Ally is on the mend," Mr. Jellybond responded 
 for her with elephantine playfulness. " Come in and 
 help the cure." 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot come in, thank you," Mr. Wor- 
 ringham answered, coming up to the window. " I am 
 on my way to lunch at Dane Court." 
 
 " If you will wait a moment," said Mr. Jellybond, " I 
 will accompany you. I have to see Mrs. Kingconstance 
 on er a matter of business. Ladies, I must leave you 
 to extract the moral of the moment." 
 
 " I see no moral in the moment," said Florence Japp, 
 bitterly. She was suspicious of this business with Mrs. 
 Kingconstance. 
 
 " You can extract a moral from everything, dear young 
 lady," Mr. Jellybond assured her in didactic measure, 
 " as you can extract the sting from a bee er by adding 
 something to the end of it." He blinked several times 
 after this pronouncement. "But avoid the obvious 
 look always for the out-of-the-way," he added. " Eh, 
 Mr. Worringham, don't you agree ?" 
 
 " Er no, I do not," said the gentle vicar. " I say give 
 us the familiar, the reposeful commonplace, the obvious, 
 
 217
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 to inspire in us that sense of security upon which our 
 peace depends." 
 
 " How nice it is to hear you talking !" said Fannj r 
 Sturdy, admiringly. " 1 wish 1 could always live with 
 superior people." 
 
 " Superior people !" Mr. Jelly bond ejaculated. " My 
 dear young lady, 1 assure you that nobody is better than 
 anybody, and everything is all the same. Miss Ally, 
 reflect upon that. Nobody is better than anybody, and 
 everything is all the same." 
 
 The two gentlemen walked on together awhile in si- 
 lence. Mr. Jellybond was smiling to himself, as at some 
 happy reminiscence. Mr. Worringham seemed to be 
 cogitating. 
 
 They presented a singular contrast the gentle, as- 
 cetic-looking vicar, well born, well bred, with self-denial 
 evident in his countenance and stamped upon his shab- 
 by clothes, and Mr. Jellybond Tinney, the successful 
 man of no breeding but some acquired taste, well fed, 
 well dressed, capable, affluent a man of mark, to judge 
 by his assurance, in some walk of life or other. But 
 they were excellent friends. The vicar believed in Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney ; he felt the power of the man and 
 admired him, and such eccentricities as he observed in 
 Mr. Jellybond's manner or conversation he set down to 
 something in the nature of a sense of humor with which 
 he himself had not been endowed. Mr. Jellybond had 
 often made him laugh on quite unseemly subjects, but 
 in such a natural way that Mr. Worringham would have 
 felt it hypercritical, if not uncharitable, to have objected. 
 For the first time in his life he was treated like a man 
 of the world, and found in the position much pleasant 
 diversion. 
 
 " You seem to have a cheering effect upon all my fe- 
 male parishioners/' he said, at last. 
 
 " Well, 1 hope 1 have, rather," Mr. Jellybond answered, 
 
 218
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 modestly. " 1 sympathize with them so ! Just think 
 what their lives are ! What have they to look forward 
 to ? Scarcely a woman in the parish has a chance of 
 ever having a husband and a home of her own and as 
 to a career " He spread out his hands at the impossi- 
 bility. 
 
 " Is that why you flirt with them all impartially 1" 
 said the vicar, slyly. 
 
 " I ? Flirt ? Oh, come now ! Well, perhaps 1 do a 
 little once in a way. It is only kind ; it does them 
 good. It means so much to them, you see, poor dears 
 takes them out of themselves gives them a little fillip, 
 don't you know." 
 
 " Besides being an innocent pleasure to you, eh ?" 
 
 " Well er what shall 1 say ?" 
 
 Mr. Jelly bond stepped out buoyantly ; the vicar also 
 showed signs of exhilaration. He had become almost 
 playful himself since Mr. Jellybond came into his life, 
 and was in consequence amiably disposed towards all 
 the diversions of that gentleman. 
 
 219
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 AS the gentlemen approached Dane Court, Mr. 
 /\ Jellybond Tinney became preoccupied. He 
 * glanced about him alertly, as was his wont, 
 especially after they entered the drive ; but his 
 mind was not intent upon the affluence made visible in 
 the excellent order of the place, nor upon the heavy sum- 
 mer foliage of the giant trees, although he looked up at 
 it as they passed beneath, nor upon the white clouds 
 which floated across the brilliant blue, nor upon the birds 
 that skimmed across his field of vision. He was think- 
 ing seriously of another matter. 
 
 " Has it ever been considered likely," he said, at last, 
 u that Mrs. Kingconstance would marry again ?" 
 
 " 1 er really cannot say," Mr. Worringham answered. 
 " It had not occurred to me, personally, that she might." 
 
 " That is strange, ""said Mr. Jellybond. " The widow 
 is comely." 
 
 " But er," Mr. Worringham objected, " there are so 
 many spinsters in the neighborhood." 
 
 " You think it unfair, perhaps, for one woman to-have 
 two husbands while there are spinsters who have not 
 secured even one ?" 
 
 " Well er that was not quite what I had in my mind; 
 but, now that you mention it, I am inclined. to agree." 
 
 " Have you ever thought about the best way to ap- 
 proach a widow on the subject of matrimony ?" Mr. Jel- 
 lybond asked. 
 
 " Er no," said Mr. Worringham. " Is there er do 
 220
 
 \
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 you not er in a word, what difference would you make 
 in the case of a widow ?" 
 
 " Well, from observation I gather that to win a spin- 
 ster is one thing, but to win a widow is quite another," 
 Mr. Jellybond assured him, confidentially. " To win a 
 spinster you must make her understand that you can- 
 not live without her ; but to win a widow you must make 
 her feel that she cannot live without you. Without car- 
 ing a rap for you as a man, she may dote upon you as 
 an addition to her comfort." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mr. Worringham, much impressed. 
 
 The thud of a horse's hoofs on the turf behind them 
 caused them both to look round. 
 
 " Cadenhouse !" Mr. Worringham ejaculated. 
 
 A curious change passed over Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 It was as if his whole person had stiffened into an ex- 
 pression of suspense. The horseman pulled up and dis- 
 mounted when he came abreast of them. He greeted 
 Mr. Worringham, then glanced casually at Mr. Jelly- 
 bond, whom he had not met before. The vicar intro- 
 duced them. 
 
 " I am glad to have the pleasure of meeting Lord Ca- 
 denhouse at last," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 " Have you been some time in the neighborhood 
 then?" Cadenhouse asked. 
 
 " It was Mr. Jellybond Tinney who bought the Swiss 
 Cottage," Mr. Worringham interposed. 
 
 " Oh, really," said Cadenhouse, on whom the informa- 
 tion made no impression whatever, so little did anything 
 that happened in the neighborhood interest him in those 
 days. But his polite affectation of interest, which con- 
 veyed the most perfect indifference, instead of offending 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, seemed to have the effect of set- 
 ting him at ease again. The tension of his attitude 
 relaxed, and, although he continued watchful, he ceased 
 to be anxious. 
 
 221
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 All three walked on together, Cadenhouse leading his 
 horse. The long facade of the house lay before them, 
 whitening in the sunshine. The stiff flower-beds of the 
 sunken Italian garden glowed with color. A statue here 
 and there in the distance gleamed white against the dark 
 brightness of the evergreen shrubs. Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance had done her worst with gray stucco and debased 
 ornamentation to make the house rococo, and although 
 the stately line of the old Elizabethan mansion held its 
 own against the degradation, no one of taste could see it 
 and not sigh for the quiet richness of the deep red brick, 
 mellowed by age, which had been its original boast. 
 
 At one end of the terrace bright-colored parasols pro- 
 claimed the presence of ladies. Mrs. Kingconstance and 
 her sister-in-law were seated there idling, with books on 
 their laps, in which apparently they took no interest. 
 The gentlemen joined them, and instantly all was ani- 
 mation. 
 
 Clodd had appeared opportunely to lead away Caden- 
 house's horse ; but, having done so, he returned. He 
 had seen Mr. Jellybond coming, and, thinking only his 
 own important business could have brought him to the 
 house, he stationed himself conspicuously at a little dis- 
 tance in an awkward attitude, and waited to be sum- 
 moned. He had been hovering about all the morning, 
 specially well dressed, with a view to making his appli- 
 cation for promotion in person, but had not the courage 
 to approach the presence unsupported. 
 
 " How ridiculous Clodd looks standing there !" said 
 Miss Kingconstance. " What does he think he's doing ?" 
 
 " What do you want, Clodd ?" Mrs. Kingconstance 
 asked, apathetically. 
 
 Clodd came forward, doffed his cap, and looked at 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney ; but that gentleman, taken un- 
 awares by his ill-timed arrival on the scene, could think 
 of no way to account for it. 
 
 222
 
 I SEED MISS LORRAINE A-COMIN' OOP T' DRIVE*"
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " What do you want er my good lad ?" he asked. 
 
 Clodd, holding his cap in both hands, and every now 
 and then giving it a twirl in his nervousness, looked 
 hard at him. 
 
 " The place," he jerked out, with a gasp. 
 
 " By-the-way, Clodd," Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed, 
 suddenly rousing herself, " will you be good enough to 
 explain what you meant by telling Miss Julia that im- 
 pertinent falsehood yesterday evening, and what you 
 were talking to Miss Lorraine about at the window ? 
 What had you been doing for Miss Lorraine ? Now, 
 don't tell me any preposterous stories." 
 
 Great drops of perspiration stood on the culprit's fore- 
 head. He twirled his cap and appealed with a look to 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney ; but that gentleman was severely 
 neutral. 
 
 " Well ?" said Mrs. Kingconstance, impatiently. 
 
 Cadenhouse would have retired ; but Miss Kingcon- 
 stance playfully barred the way with her parasol. 
 
 " There's something interesting coming," she whis- 
 pered. " Do wait and hear." 
 
 Mr. Worringham sat with his hands crossed on the 
 top of his stick, absently blinking at the scene. 
 
 " Well, m'm," Clodd stammered at last, scraping his 
 foot on the ground, " I'm very sorry, m'm. 1 wouldn't 
 'a' told Miss Julia no lies if she 'edn't 'a' asked no ques- 
 tions, on'y she come a-sneakin' and a-listenin' at the 
 window " 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance stopped him with a gesture. 
 
 " Remember of whom you are speaking, sir !" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Clodd looked at her stupidly with his mouth open, and 
 then turned to Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 " Innocent of offence !" that gentleman ejaculated. 
 " It is his way of expressing himself. These gentry can 
 only tell their stories in their own way." 
 
 223
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * Pray let him go on in his own way," said Miss King- 
 constance, languidly. " It promises to be unique." 
 
 " Go on, then/' said Mrs. Kingconstance, resigning 
 herself to the clownish simplicity of Clodd. 
 
 " A-sneakin' and a-listenin' at the window," he repeat- 
 ed, doggedly, "to wot 1 was a-sayin' to Miss Lorraine; but 
 bein' as she was round t' corner, she only 'eard enough 
 to mak' 'er cu'yous, an' she ses to me, ' Clodd/ she ses, 
 w'en Miss Lorraine 'ad gone, ' I'll gi'e yew tew 'arf-sov- 
 erins/ she ses, ' to tell me wot yer've bin a-doin' fur Lor- 
 raine/ ses she." Here Clodd gave his hat a twirl and 
 looked at the group, as who should say : " That's in- 
 iquity for you, if you like I" " I tol' 'er it wer'n't naw- 
 thin' in pertic'lar," he stolidly pursued, "but she wouldn't 
 believe that, an' she stretched out 'er 'and in the dark, 
 an' she ses: 'Clodd/ ses she, "ere's the tew 'arf-soverins/ 
 she ses, ' now tell us/ she ses ; ' and wotever yew do, 
 don't come fur to go fur to tell me no lies, else yew'll be 
 'ad oop afore me ma, an' then yew'll catch it, won't yew, 
 oh, no !' ' Clodd gave his cap a twirl by way of punctu- 
 ation. " Well, m'm," he continued, " 1 tried 'ard to con- 
 vince 'er it wasn't nawthin'; but she'd got it into 'er 'ead 
 contrariwise, an' nowt wouldn't convince 'er she was 
 wrong, so 1 jest tol' 'er summat to git rid uf 'er an' that 
 summat were so werry ridic'lous/' Clodd concluded with 
 a grin, " that if Miss Julia 'adn't 'a' bin in sech a 'urry 
 to b'lieve anythink, she'd 'a' knawed i' 'arf a min'et as 
 'twas lies." 
 
 " How wicked of you !" Mrs. Kingconstance cried. 
 
 " Beg pardon, m'm," said Clodd, with a scrape of his 
 foot. " It were tew sixpences," he added, " as Miss Julia 
 passed off on us i' the dark fur tew 'arf-soverins." 
 
 " That must be another fabrication, I am sure," said 
 Mrs. Kingconstance, appealing to them all. " Julia 
 never could have done such a thing." 
 
 " Except by mistake," Mr. Jelly bond qualified. 
 
 224
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 "Doubtless a mistake," said Miss Kingconstance, 
 slowly, with equivocal emphasis, leaning back in her 
 chair and looking up at the sky. 
 
 " But what were you talking to Miss Lorraine about ?" 
 Mrs. Kingconstance demanded. " You have not told 
 us that yet ; and you had something mysterious to say 
 to her which you wanted to keep secret." 
 
 Clodd looked at her, then looked at the ground stupid- 
 ly, and twirled his cap. 
 
 " Well ?" said Mrs. Kingconstance, impatiently. " I'm 
 waiting." 
 
 Clodd shuffled his feet and twirled his cap in an ecstasy 
 of nervousness. 
 
 " Well, m'm," he began, " Miss Lorraine's very pertic'- 
 lar about her garding, an' I hes to 'elp 'er wi' it, an' she 
 tol' me to get it tidyed oop fur t' beddin'-out plants which 
 did oughter 'a' bin put in las' week. That wer' three 
 days ago. But 1's not much on a gardiner, m'm, though 
 smart enough at in-door work" he looked at Mr. Jelly- 
 bond " an' I clean forgot ; an' Miss Lorraine called me 
 fur everythink w'en she went an' found 'em bulbs still 
 in. But she's a rare un, m'm, Miss Lorraine is, an' any 
 one on us 'ud do any think to please 'er; an' I felt more 
 mad because I'd forgot t' garden than 1 felt riled at bein' 
 called fur it." 
 
 * A very proper sentiment," Mr. Jelly bond murmured. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance smiled agreement. 
 
 " So 1 cleaned oop in a 'urry yestiddy afternoon," 
 Clodd, thus encouraged, continued with slow emphasis, 
 " an' as luck would 'av' it, I see Miss Lorraine a-comin' 
 in jest as I were goin' 'ome, an' I made so bold as to arsk 
 to speak to 'er, fur 1 wanted ter let 'er know as 1 were 
 sorry fur my furget, an' 1 thowt she'd be pleased b'cos 
 as 1 done wot 1 could ter ter " 
 
 " Atone for it," Mr. Jellybond suggested, with appro- 
 bation. " You felt you had been in the wrong, and hav- 
 p 225
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ing made what reparation you could, you wished to be 
 forgiven. Quite the right feeling quite the right feel- 
 ing, indeed." 
 
 " Quite the right feeling," Mrs. Kingconstance echoed. 
 
 These soft plaudits were sweet to Clodd, but they 
 threatened to be his undoing, for the moment he felt his 
 audience with him he began to lose his head. 
 
 " As I sed afore, m'm," he plunged on, " 1 seed Miss 
 Lorraine a-comin' oop t' drive wi' 'er shoes an' stockin's 
 i' 'er 'and" 
 
 Everybody sat up suddenly. 
 
 " With what in her hand ?" Mrs. Kingconstance ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Clodd clapped his hand on his mouth, a gesture which, 
 under the circumstances, highly resembled the pro- 
 verbial late locking of the stable door. 
 
 " He said, ' with her shoes and stockings in her hand,' " 
 Miss Kingconstance observed, with a suppressed smile. 
 
 Clodd assented. He saw that there was no help for it. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that Miss Lorraine Kingcon- 
 stance had nothing on her feet ?" her mother demanded. 
 
 " 1 didn't look fur to see, m'm," Clodd answered, dis- 
 creetly. 
 
 " You said she had her shoes and stockings in her 
 hand ?" 
 
 " Yes, m'm." 
 
 " Do you think," said Mrs. Kingconstance, turning to 
 them all imploringly " do you think that a daughter of 
 mine could have been walking about barefooted ?" 
 
 No one ventured to deny it. 
 
 " Where is Lorraine?" her mother asked, in a despair- 
 ing voice. 
 
 " Would it not be just as well to conclude the exam- 
 ination of Clodd ?" Mr. Jellybond ventured to suggest. 
 
 " Have you anything more to tell ?" Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance snapped, impatiently. 
 
 226
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 "No,m'm/saidClodd. 
 
 * Then you can go." 
 ^Clodd awaited no second bidding. 
 
 " Now, what is to be done ?" said Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 
 But before any one could reply the first rumble of the 
 great gong in the hall was heard, and as the velvet tones, 
 swelling in volume, rolled out crescendo, Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance's perturbation subsided. There was lobster may- 
 onnaise for luncheon. She rose with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Let us go in," she said. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond offered her his arm. 
 227
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 IT was the old story. One person goes in to eat lobster 
 mayonnaise, while another goes out to weep bit- 
 terly. Clodd knew he had made a mess of it, and 
 fled from the spot headlong, as if by haste he could 
 escape from his own indiscretion. 
 
 * Oh, desh it !" he exclaimed, stopping short in a shady 
 alley, and bringing down a clinched fist on one side. 
 " Oh, deng it !" he cried, bringing down the other fist on 
 the other side, and making a bow of his back. " Oh, 
 wot a fule 1's bin, to be sure !* he groaned, raising both 
 fists and bringing them down together. 
 
 Babs, coming up behind him from under the trees, was 
 in time to witness this performance. 
 
 " Have you lost anything, Clodd ?" she said. 
 
 Clodd turned to her with a distorted countenance. 
 
 " Miss Lorraine/' he whimpered, " I's as good as split 
 on you." 
 
 " Well, and after that ?" said Babs, eying him con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 Clodd shook both his clinched fists at the landscape 
 in despair of the whole position. 
 
 " Not but what yew can square it," he said, suddenly, 
 pulling himself together and becoming confidential. 
 " Mr. Jellybond Tinney, Vs squared it fur Miss Julia." 
 
 " What had Miss Julia been doing ?" 
 
 * She made b'lieve in the dark as two sixpences was 
 two 'arf-soverins." 
 
 * Clever of her," said Babs, laconically. 
 
 228
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " But Mr. Jellybond 'e said of course it were by mis- 
 take she done it." 
 
 " Clever of him/' said Babs. " But how did I come 
 in?" 
 
 " They'll be a-wantin' of yew to arsk if yew was walk- 
 in' out yestiddy barefoot," Clodd answered, evasivelj 7 . 
 " If yer ma 'ears as yew did, she'll think worse on yew 
 nor if yew'd set t' house afire. I didn't split intentional," 
 he added, in eager self-justification ; " but I got sorter 
 confused like, an' let out as 'ow I'd seed yew wi' yer 
 shoes and stockins i' yewr 'and. But I tol' 'em I didn't 
 look to see if yew'd none on yer feet as well, thinkin' 
 likely yew'd 'ave more nor one pair ; so yew've got the 
 cue, miss." 
 
 " Thank you," said Babs, dryly. 
 
 On the way in she lingered, looking up at the house 
 intently, as if she were asking some question of it. In 
 the hall she encountered the butler. 
 
 * I say, Benson, what's the pet dish for luncheon to- 
 day ?" she asked. 
 
 " Lobster mayonnaise, miss." 
 
 " And champagne ?" 
 
 " Yes, miss." 
 
 Babs threw up her hat. It descended on Benson's 
 head. His dignity was marred for a moment by a twin- 
 kle in his eye. He knew as well as Babs did that she 
 would have no occasion to be afraid of her mother's se- 
 verity once it was tempered by lobster salad and cham- 
 pagne. 
 
 " Have they been round yet ?" she said, turning back 
 to ask the question. 
 
 " They are being partaken of just at this moment, 
 miss." 
 
 Babs glanced at the clock. 
 
 " They'll take a few minutes to act," she remarked. 
 * I might as well make myself tidy." 
 
 229
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She ran up-stairs, and a little later burst into the din- 
 ing-room with her usual impetuosity. Seeing Caden- 
 house, she stopped short, her face lighted up, the deli- 
 cate shell-pink of her cheeks deepened, and a smile of 
 irrepressible gladness enhanced the charm of her eyes 
 and mouth. 
 
 When the greetings were over, Babs stood a moment 
 reflecting. Cadenhouse was seated at her mother's 
 right, with Miss Kingconstance beside him. 
 
 " Oh, dear, 1 don't know where to sit," said Babs. " 1 
 want to be beside Cadenhouse, and opposite to him as 
 well beside him to talk to him, and opposite to him to 
 see him. Perhaps opposite to him's the best," she pur- 
 sued. " Mr. Jellybond, move up a little higher, like a 
 good soul." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond complied effusively. 
 
 " Really, Babs !" Mrs. Kingconstance remonstrated. 
 
 " It's all right, mamma,'' said Babs, with a smile. 
 " How about that mayonnaise ?" 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Kingconstance, addressing herself to 
 the subject with the serious interest she felt in it, nicely 
 tempered by the becoming modesty of a hostess, " it was 
 really rather nice." 
 
 " Excellent," Mr. Jellybond ejaculated. 
 
 Babs looked round. 
 
 " Where's dear Julia ?" she asked. 
 
 " You know, dear," her mother answered, " she's gone 
 to lunch with Meg Normanton." 
 
 " What a bother !" said Babs. " I like to have the 
 whole family and half the neighborhood here on these 
 occasions. -But never mind. Fire away." 
 
 " What do you mean, Babs ?" her mother asked. 
 
 " The row, of course," said Babs, noiselessly clapping 
 her little hands, an habitual gesture. "Aren't we going 
 to have a row ?" she added, with a disappointed air. 
 
 They all tried not to smile, but with indifferent suc- 
 
 230
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 cess. Benson deftly refilled the champagne glasses. Mrs. 
 Kingconstance sipped, and looked from Mr. Jellybond to 
 Cadenhouse for inspiration, then sipped again. 
 
 " Now, don't you be asking any one's advice, mamma," 
 Babs warned her. " Remember your promise. This 
 is our game. The others may look on and applaud 
 if they like; but they mustn't interfere. It's you to 
 play." 
 
 " Babs," said Mrs. Kingconstance, attempting to be 
 severe, " you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " I'll try," said Babs. 
 
 Cadenhouse's countenance relaxed. 
 
 " One to me," sa!d Babs. " It's your turn again, 
 mamma." 
 
 " But really, Babs," said. Mrs. Kingconstance, with 
 quivering lips, " this is very serious this this story." 
 
 " If it be true," Mr. Jellybond put in, piously. 
 
 " Clodd says he saw you with your shoes and stock- 
 ings in your hand. What have you to say to that ?" 
 
 " Well," said Babs, deliberately, " I confess it isn't the 
 usual place for them ; but I had my reasons." 
 
 " Oh, dear !" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed. " It is 
 true, then ? You ivere walking barefooted ? What 
 could make yqu do such a thing ?" 
 
 " Don't be shocked, mamma," Babs pleaded. " There's 
 plenty of precedent for walking barefooted. There's 
 holy writ, isn't there, Mr. Worringham ? Lots of people 
 did it in days of yore. It was quite the thing at one time 
 to burnish 3 r our soul by bruising your feet." 
 
 " Really, Babs, how could you ?" Mrs. Kingconstance 
 helplessly ejaculated. 
 
 Then there was a pause. 
 
 "Trial over?" said Babs, at last. "Culprit pleads 
 guilty. You can defer sentence or pronounce it at once, 
 as you like ; or you can, being a good, kind, generous, 
 dear mamma, grant a free pardon in honor of the occa- 
 
 231
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 sion. I'll put it to the vote. Those who are for a free 
 pardon hold up their hands." 
 
 Everybody held up a hand except Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney, who in his enthusiasm held up two. 
 
 " Carried unanimously," he said, amidst a burst of 
 hilarity in which Mrs. Kingconstance joined in spite of 
 herself. 
 
 " That's my game, I think," said Babs. "And now 
 for food." 
 
 232
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 ATER luncheon Babs wanted to take possession 
 of Cadenhouse. He was standing in a win- 
 dow talking to Miss Kingconstance, and Babs 
 joined them there. 
 
 " Babs," said her aunt, " you're a dreadful child !" 
 
 Babs owned to it unaffectedly. 
 
 "And the worst of it is, auntie,"* she said, " I'm not 
 child enough to be so dreadful. I am growing up. I 
 have bursts of young-ladylike feeling that distress me." 
 
 " But why don't you make up your mind to be a young 
 lady at once ?" said Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Would you love me if I did ?" Babs asked, wistfully. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance and Cadenhouse exchanged 
 smiling glances. 
 
 " We do love you, Babs," Cadenhouse assured her. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course, I know," Babs answered, impa- 
 tiently. " But that is not what I mean, and you know 
 it is not. You know that I want you to love me me 
 and only me. Why don't you ?" 
 
 Cadenhouse looked at her benignly. 
 
 " You're younger than you think you are, Babs," he 
 said. 
 
 " When you look down upon me from that height, I 
 am old and seared and gray," she answered, bitterly, 
 " because you despise me." 
 
 " I despise you ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 * No, you don't even despise me," she rejoined. " You 
 don't think enough about me for that. To you I am 
 
 233
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 just an ordinary little piece of furniture, slightly orna- 
 mental, but not at all useful. I should make no gap in 
 your life were I to be removed. " She looked up at Caden- 
 house, half hoping that he would contradict her ; but he 
 remained silent, gravely considering. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance felt the pause awkward, and 
 broke it ruthlessly. 
 
 " But come now, let us discuss you, Babs," she said. 
 " You're tired of being a dreadful child " 
 
 " I'm tired of everything," Babs interrupted, " begin- 
 ning with Julia. Julia's such a beastly success. The 
 whole place will lie to get me out of scrapes, and they 
 can't do it ; but Julia can't be got into a scrape even 
 when they tell the truth about her. I don't want her got 
 into scrapes. I never peach on her myself. But I just 
 tell you this -to show you where I am." 
 
 " Shall I translate ?" said Miss Kingconstance to 
 Cadenhouse. 
 
 " I could kick you, Aunt Lorraine," Babs flashed 
 forth upon that. " You are just as bad as the rest you 
 like to humiliate me. Go away, can't you, and let me 
 talk to Cadenhouse. He understands me, for all your 
 sneers." 
 
 " Oh, my dear child, I'm sorry," her aunt exclaimed. 
 " I wasn't sneering at you at all." 
 
 Babs threw herself into a chair and burst into tears. 
 Miss Kingconstance would fain have caressed and com- 
 forted her, but Babs pushed her away. 
 
 " I'm tired of you," she sobbed " I'm tired of every- 
 thing and everybody. I want a change something 
 to make me feel differently. Oh, if I could only feel 
 more or less !" 
 
 " Why, my dear child, you have always said that you 
 hated change." 
 
 " I know," Babs snapped ; " but now I love it. It's 
 monotony that I hate the same old thing forever and 
 
 234
 
 YOU GIVE ME NOTHING BUT NATURE, AND I'M HUMAN ' "
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ever, world without end, and nothing to come of it. I'm 
 as sick of it now as Montacute is. I loathe that horrible 
 greenery out there. You give me nature and nothing 
 but nature, and I'm human ; it is the works of man that 
 claim me. Cadenhouse, you look as neutral as a fish." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance, who had been kneeling beside 
 Babs, sat down on the floor, and looked up at Cadenhouse 
 in perplexity. 
 
 " What's to be done ?" she said, at last. 
 
 He stroked his chin. 
 
 " There are schools, of course," she pursued "finish- 
 ing schools, in London and Paris. The elder girls are 
 taken about to concerts, to the opera, to picture-gal- 
 leries " 
 
 Babs roused herself energetically. 
 
 " That's it !" she cried. " That's the kind of thing 1 
 want. Give me art to make me love nature. Do ar- 
 range it, you two, with mamma. I know she'd see 
 reason if the suggestion came from Cadenhouse. Get 
 her to send us away me and Montacute to that kind 
 of school. He could go to a tutor or a coach or some- 
 thing close by." 
 
 " What do you think ?" Miss Kingconstance asked 
 Cadenhouse, dubiously. 
 
 " 1 think there is nothing else for it," he answered. 
 
 * Gloria in excelsis!" Babs shouted, jumping up. * I'll 
 go and tell Cute." 
 
 " But it's not settled," her aunt remonstrated. 
 
 " Really, Aunt Lorraine, you're childish," Babs, 
 already at the door, retorted. " You ought to know 
 mamma better by this time." 
 
 There was an interval of silence after the door slammed 
 upon Babs, then Miss Kingconstance sighed, " Heigho !" 
 
 " I understand Babs," she said. " It is bad for her 
 now ; but it will be worse by-and-by. 1 was like her 
 once all life and energy and hope. Look at me now." 
 
 235
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Cadenhouse was looking at her. Some people are 
 like their own ancestors they repeat the portraits in the 
 family picture-gallery. But Miss Kingconstance was 
 not like anything that Cadenhouse had ever seen be- 
 fore. She was more like something he had dreamed, 
 and he had expected much from her appearance, but had 
 hitherto been disappointed. She was too much like him- 
 self, in that she was not of the past or the present, but of 
 the future, for him to understand her all at once. Miss 
 Kingconstance had appeared prematurely while the 
 east wind of prejudice was still blowing upon the aspira- 
 tions of women and shrivelling them, and had suffered 
 blight. 
 
 " But come out for a turn," she added. " It is stifling 
 here." 
 
 They made for a green glade in the park, out of sight 
 of the house. 
 
 " Do you remember," she said, " we used often to race 
 down here together when we were boy and girl ? What 
 joy it was in those days just to be alive 1 We shall never 
 feel like that again, Cadenhouse." 
 
 " Why not ?" he objected, in his measured way. 
 
 " Why ?" She laughed mirthlessly. " Why, because 
 you are a grave, dignified man self-contained, haugh- 
 ty I don't know what. But, at any rate, you will never 
 feel like a boy again, while I " She paused. 
 
 " Tell me about yourself, Lorraine." 
 
 " Do you really care to hear ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed I greatly care to hear." 
 
 " May I take your arm ?" 
 
 He held out his arm to her, and she leaned upon him 
 as they paced on together in step, slowly, under the 
 shadowy trees. 
 
 " You are what you are by reason of development," she 
 began. " It is suppression which has made me what I 
 am. Body and soul 1 am suffering from it from the 
 
 236
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 cruel suppression to which 1 have been subjected all my 
 life for no other reason but that I was born to be a 
 woman. In the nursery no part of my frame was prop- 
 erly exercised because ' little girls must behave, miss/ 
 In the school-room my mind was left uninformed because 
 ' girls don't require so much teaching/ I was kept im- 
 mature, or made to be amateur, in everything. In so- 
 ciety my wits burned out for want of nourishment. Here, 
 at home, 1 must waste my womanhood. I must mourn 
 alone in the most absolute of all solitude, the solitude of 
 the heart husbandless, childless, without a single 
 happy responsibility. Because of these things it has 
 come to pass that there is no more health in me. Mind 
 and body, I am wrong all wrong." 
 
 " I know," said Cadenhouse. " I know how it is with 
 women like you under such circumstances. You offer 
 no resistance to the evils of your unnatural environment, 
 and all goes wrong with you. But surely it isn't too 
 late. You are young, Lorraine, and there are many 
 things still to be done. I seem to have more to do here 
 than anywhere." 
 
 "You yes. But consider my position. What do you 
 think there is for me to do in the day ? I get up in the 
 morning, and am dressed. Then 1 breakfast, and after 
 that what do you suppose ? You have your estates to 
 manage, your public duties to attend to, your studies." 
 
 * But you are not cut off from study," he put in, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " To what end should I study ? Study for study's 
 sake is as stultifying as art for art's sake, as unsatisfac- 
 tory as love for love's sake 
 
 ' Work without hope drops nectar in a sieve, 
 And hope without an object cannot live.' " 
 
 Cadenhouse was silent for a little. 
 " I seem to see that you are not to be wasted," he said, 
 
 237
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 at last. " What you are feeling so strongly now is only 
 a phase one of the many through which you must pass, 
 and must pass alone. Life comes to a loose end with all 
 of us at times a loose end that sways about in every 
 wind that blows, helpless, useless, purposeless, unlovely, 
 until there comes a gust of feeling, and it is caught up 
 and woven once more into the fabric of life from which it 
 was detached the fabric it was designed to serve and 
 adorn. There is law in all this. I lean to the belief 
 that our desires are creative, that we make circumstances 
 ourselves in certain states of mind. When it comes to 
 me in myself that I shall succeed, I am not sure that 1 am 
 merely foreseeing success ; it may be that 1 am com- 
 pelling it. 1 am conscious at such moments of a power 
 in myself which is not ordinarily under my control, any 
 more than the power to compose music is, and 1 believe 
 that that power is the power which compels." 
 
 " In that case we must know what we want," said Miss 
 Kingconstance, giving him a curious look. 
 
 * Yes, you must know what you want," he answered, 
 simply. 
 
 She made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 * You are becoming a sort of a priest," she said. " 1 
 never see a priest without a feeling of intense pity." 
 
 " Why ?" he asked, in surprise. 
 
 " Because the Lord made him a man, and he was not 
 satisfied with the work of the Lord. He wanted to be 
 an angel before his time, and therefore he wrought and 
 arranged his life so as to mar both the man and the 
 angel." 
 
 " 1 am not an admirer of the priestly character my- 
 self," said Cadenhouse, innocent of any personal appli- 
 cation. " The vice of the priest is the lust of power. He 
 is greedy to guide ; he claims your obedience always, 
 as though he were wisdom incarnate. His instrument 
 for the refractory is torture, whether of the body or the 
 
 238
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 mine here or hereafter. His rewards are anodynes 
 which impair our powers. His rule has fallen as a 
 blight upon every nation which has suffered it. Let no 
 man come between you and your God. Work out your 
 own salvation." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. She was asking for 
 bread, and he was giving her his opinion. 
 
 " But 1 don't see how religion can stand without its 
 ministers, all the same," she remarked. 
 
 " Why should it ?" he replied. " The more ministers 
 of religion we have the better. That is the ideal tow- 
 ards which we are tending we who love religion. We 
 foresee that in the future there will not be any separate 
 priesthood, because every man will be a teacher, every 
 man an inspirer of right. " 
 
 Miss Kingconstance compressed her lips. " Would 
 every man be as neutral as a fish ?" she wondered. 
 
 " Do you never come down from the heights ?" she 
 exclaimed, after a pause. 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 " 1 see," she said ; " you don't even understand. Well, 
 never mind. Let us go back and settle that business 
 for Babs. That will be doing something for some- 
 body which is one of the ways you would pre- 
 scribe, 1 believe, for staying hunger of the heart, is it 
 not ?" 
 
 He looked at her again uneasily, feeling that he had 
 made some mistake, yet quite at a loss. 
 
 "Oh, Cadenhouse!" she exclaimed. "If you would 
 only come down sometimes, and be less of a saint and 
 more of a man !" 
 
 The saying stayed with Cadenhouse and tormented 
 him. 
 
 Late that night in his tower he sat and thought. He 
 had done a good deal for himself. He had lived the life, 
 and to such good purpose that to him at rare moments 
 
 239
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 the sixth sense unveiled itself and had ceased to be a 
 wonder and a mystery. But that day, when he would 
 have applied his power to some practical purpose, it had 
 failed him why ? 
 
 The question remained unanswered. 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE first attempt to persuade Mrs. Kingconstance 
 that it would be for the good of Babs and Monta- 
 cute to send them away was unsuccessful, but 
 her resistance was purely sentimental. She 
 saw very little of the children, except at meals, as a rule, 
 and did not trouble herself much about them then ; but 
 that did not make any difference with regard to the 
 attitude of her mind on the subject. She declared that 
 her children were all that she had in the world, and it 
 would be cruel to separate her from them. Montacute 
 was delicate, and required a mother's care ; and Babs 
 well, Babs was tiresome at times, she was obliged to 
 allow, but most children are tiresome. All they want 
 is love. 
 
 " And supervision," said Miss Kingconstance, dryly. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney agreed with her. 
 
 Mr. Worringham was decidedly of opinion that a pub- 
 lic school is the proper place for a boy, and stuck to that 
 point strenuously all through the argument, though 
 each time he mentioned it he was reminded that Monta- 
 cute was too old for a public school, even if he hadn't 
 been too delicate. 
 
 Discipline was what Cadenhouse stood out for. He 
 maintained that there was no proper discipline for either 
 girl or boy in such a home as Dane Court. 
 
 At this point Mrs. Kingconstance told, irrelevantly, 
 how she had sat up the greater part of one night with 
 Cute when he had pneumonia. She was touched to 
 Q 241
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 tears by the recollection of her own devotion ; and be- 
 cause of the tears the discussion had to be dropped. 
 
 But the seed had been sown, and when a few days 
 later Montacute's tutor resigned for a quite insufficient 
 reason, and Babs caused the greatest anxiety by dis- 
 appearing on her pony in the early morning and not 
 returning till late at night, and then added exaspera- 
 tion to the trouble by coolly explaining that she was so 
 sick of the sight of " greenery " that she had been obliged 
 to ride to the market town (a distance of thirty-four miles 
 there and back) to see the shops and shake off the ob- 
 session of nature by the contemplation of human nature, 
 Mrs. Kingconstance gave way. She could not, of 
 course, spare Julia ; and indeed there was no necessity, 
 she said, that dear child being all that she ought to be, 
 and so like herself at that age ; but Babs must be 
 put under proper control immediately, and it would be 
 better for Montacute, doubtless, to be with boys of his 
 own age for a little. 
 
 During all that trying time Mr. Jellybond Tinney was 
 a great help to Mrs. Kingconstance. He showed her 
 herself in the noble character of self-sacrificing mother 
 while the arrangements were being made for the de- 
 parture of the children, and after they had gone he com- 
 forted her with cordial. He it was who met her at the 
 station on her return from London, whither she had 
 gone to see the children settled. Nobody else, as it hap- 
 pened, except the coachman, knew exactly when to ex- 
 pect her. It was a lovely afternoon, but of course the 
 dear lady was very much upset. 
 
 " Now I should recommend," Mr. Jellybond said, " if 
 1 might venture, striking out in a new direction. 1 am 
 sure you didn't eat much luncheon if any. 1 felt sure 
 you would not, and 1 made a little plan." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was curious to know what the 
 little plan was. They were seated side by side in her 
 
 242
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 carriage, driving through the sweet green lanes together 
 that long seventeen miles from the station. 
 
 " Well, I propose a sort of little picnic in the forest." 
 
 "A sort of picnic in the forest ? You and me togeth- 
 er ?" she exclaimed, with deprecation in her voice and 
 delight in her countenance. 
 
 " Oh no, my dear lady, certainly not exactly." 
 
 He seemed rather shocked at the suggestion, and Mrs. 
 Kingconstance perceiving this, blushed at her own in- 
 discretion. 
 
 " What I propose is " He broke off artistically. 
 " Do you remember that day I called upon you first? 
 Ah, how long ago it seems now ! How much has hap- 
 pened since !" 
 
 " How much, indeed !" she sighed, and none the less 
 sincerely because she could hardly have mentioned any 
 event in proof. Life is punctuated by sensation much 
 more acutely than by circumstance, and it was emotional 
 changes she had in her mind when she spoke the 
 changes wrought by Mr. Jellybond. 
 
 " But do you remember ?" he resumed. " We were 
 jesting. It seems to me now that we were very young 
 that day at least, I was. You are always young." 
 
 He gazed at her intently. Mrs. Kingconstance be- 
 came pleasantly embarrassed. 
 
 " You were saying " she observed, to cover her con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " I was going to remind you of some little nonsense we 
 talked about palmistry." 
 
 "I remember!" she exclaimed. "You were going to 
 bring a palmist just for fun, you know to tell us 
 about the lines." 
 
 " The lines that are alike in our hands," he supple- 
 mented. " The person I alluded to is living now in the 
 forest. And I thought this afternoon just for dis- 
 traction, you know it might amuse you to go and see 
 
 243
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 her. She is quite respectable," he hastened to add ; 
 " eminently respectable, although of gypsy blood. She 
 was, in fact, one of the Lees. But of course I would not 
 allow you to go near one who was not respectable." 
 
 * No, of course not," said Mrs. Kingconstance. " But 
 what do you propose, exactly ?" 
 
 " This is what I propose," he answered, lowering his 
 voice " if you approve of the arrangement. The road 
 on this side of the forest passes close to Thorne Lodge, 
 where the good lady lives, and I thought, if you sent 
 on the carriage and walked the rest of the way But 
 could you ? would you be equal to it ? I always won- 
 der how those little feet support you at all." 
 
 * Oh, but I'm a good walker," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 simpered. She would not have called herself so ordi- 
 narily ; but the excitement of the adventure had seized 
 upon her, and the Indian summer of elderly passion, the 
 least controllable, was beginning to rouse her out of her 
 groove. " Stop the carriage when you like," she said. 
 * The servants won't think it odd, I suppose ?" 
 
 " I had not considered that chance," he replied. 
 Her countenance fell. 
 
 * What is to be done ?" she wanted to know. 
 
 * It is a delicate matter," he reflected aloud. " You 
 are not in the habit of leaving the carriage in this way, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 She shook her head, and inwardly wished that she 
 had been. 
 
 " What a pity 1" he ejaculated. "Anything unusual, 
 you know, causes comment in the servants' hall. I'm 
 afraid we must give it up." 
 
 She showed her disappointment. 
 
 " If they put us down on the road to the village ?" she 
 ventured to suggest. 
 
 " They need not know that we are going into the forest 
 at all ? Hum. We must remember that, there are other 
 
 244
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 people who might see us. No. We must avoid all ap- 
 pearance of mystery. My original suggestion was the 
 best. Let us be put down on the high-road and send 
 word that we are walking home." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Kingconstance was so set upon go- 
 ing to Thorne Lodge that she would have accepted any 
 suggestion. 
 
 The little house deep in the forest, with its high, 
 thatched roof, its flowering creepers, its rustic garden 
 where the bees hummed, and the thick privet hedge by 
 which its privacy was effectually secured from the rare 
 passer-by, might well have been the home of some benefi- 
 cent fairy. Mrs. Kingconstance was charmed with its 
 aspect outside, and still more charmed with the interior. 
 She had become quite flighty and giggly since they 
 entered the wood. 
 
 " It is so very funny, you know," she said ; " the most 
 unconventional thing I have ever done in my life. Quite 
 an Arabian Nights' entertainment 1" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney knocked at the door impres- 
 sively three times, then held up a finger to enjoin self- 
 control, at the same time assuring the lady in a tragic 
 whisper that she need not be nervous. These manreu- 
 vres had the desired effect. Mrs. Kingconstance be- 
 gan to thrill. 
 
 The door opened wide, but there was nobody to be 
 seen. 
 
 " Enter without fear," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance immediately began to tremble, but 
 obeyed. 
 
 The front door shut itself after them, there was a mo- 
 ment's darkness, then another door opened with a click, 
 and Mrs. Kingconstance saw before her what looked at 
 the first glance like a glimpse of an old church, all bathed 
 in an exquisite atmosphere of greeny light. Furniture 
 and walls and ceiling were all dark oak, the floor was red 
 
 245
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 
 
 bricks, the mellow light came through the diamond panes 
 of a lattice window. There was very little furniture a 
 carved oak settle beneath the window, cushioned with 
 red, a high oak chair to match, and a round table. Mrs. 
 Kingconstance sank down upon the settle and looked 
 about her. There was now no sign of any door. 
 
 " I am almost frightened/' she whispered. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond smiled. 
 
 " Not when I am here, I hope," he said. " The atmos- 
 phere of the place is not the ordinary atmosphere of 
 earth, I confess " 
 
 " It is all so odd and unexpected," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 put in. 
 
 He looked around complacently, like one who is proud 
 of an effect. The place had been changed as by magic 
 since Babs saw it, but there was no smell of new wood or 
 varnish. Mr. Jellybond knew where old oak was to be 
 had for the price of new deal, so that there was no de- 
 ception in regard to the age of anything. The only 
 wonder was how such things came to be there at all ; 
 but Mrs. Kingconstance did not wonder. She was too 
 much impressed and too expectant to be even ordinarily 
 critical. 
 
 " But is there no one here ?" she said, at last. The 
 silence was becoming oppressive. 
 
 A part of the panelling slid away immediately, and an 
 old woman, dressed in dark red, stood in the aperture. 
 She courtesied to the rich lady, but the expression in 
 her shrewd dark eyes was not so humble as her obei- 
 sance. 
 
 " Does my lady require anything ?" she asked. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance in her astonishment lost her 
 presence of mind. 
 
 "And if I remember rightly, in the Arabian Nights," 
 Mr. Jellybond proceeded, " the adventuring princess 
 was always ready for a light refection. I once boasted 
 
 246
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 to you that I could cook," he added, " now you shall see. 
 Good mother, my tmiform." 
 
 The old woman brought him a white cap, an apron, 
 and long white sleeves. He put them on, and looked 
 more of a gentleman in them than in his ordinary dress. 
 His hand with the signet-ring on it looked particularly 
 refined and well kept. Any one would have said a man 
 of position at play. 
 
 " I always like to dress for my part/' he said, " what- 
 ever it be." 
 
 The facile use of the subjunctive gave an effect of 
 fastidiousness to his language at the moment which 
 also bespoke respect. The old woman brought in an- 
 other small table, on which were several plated panni- 
 kins and a spirit lamp. Mr. Jellybond peeped into the 
 pannikins, then he lighted the lamp, and then began to 
 stir and beat and watch with the absorbed interest of an 
 artist in his work. The old woman meanwhile laid the 
 other small table for two, decorated it with flowers, and 
 pushed it in front of Mrs. Kingconstance. The place 
 was soon filled with savory orders. Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance sniffed involuntarily and her mouth watered ; 
 her superstitious tremors passed and she found herself 
 at her ease. 
 
 " Really, I am ravenous !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " We hoped we might induce an appetite," said Mr- 
 Jellybond, playfully. " ' We ' is the king of cooks. We 
 have been the whole morning preparing dainties for our 
 lady, and I will undertake to say that there is not a single 
 dish here of which she has ever partaken before in this 
 form. I only hope she will find each as excellent as it is 
 rare. Good mother, all is ready. Serve us, if you please. " 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney had made no vain boast. 
 
 " I never tasted anything so good," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 commented, after each dish. " I only wish I could afford 
 to keep such a cook." 
 
 247
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Mr. Jellybond gazed at her tenderly. 
 
 " I pride myself on being an amateur in the art," he 
 said. " What a joy it would be to be always at hand to 
 prepare you a little refection ! But stay. Have you 
 noticed nothing wanting ?" 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance glanced about her vaguely. The 
 old woman stood by, shrewdly observing her. It passed 
 through Mrs. Kingconstance's mind that there were no 
 powdered footmen ; but that could not be it. She looked 
 at the table. 
 
 " I have it," she said. " Nothing to drink." 
 
 The old woman brought a silver salver on which were 
 some miniature decanters of quaint design and two 
 crystal goblets. She set them before Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney, who placed his finger daintily on the stopper 
 of one of the decanters as if he were blessing it. 
 
 " Now this is to be the finishing touch," he said, " this 
 cordial which I am about to concoct for you. Nothing 
 so vulgar as champagne would do for my lady. I 
 promise her a draught of nectar." 
 
 " Oh, don't make it too strong," she exclaimed. 
 
 " Not strong, of course," he rejoined, " but subtle an 
 Elysian draught, in fact." 
 
 " What lovely little bottles !" she said. " Surely they 
 don't belong " She glanced round. 
 
 " Oh, no," he answered, measuring out the liquids for 
 the cordial as he talked. " These are my things my 
 own little private batterie de cuisine, et cetera. I have a 
 laboratory in my own house where I pursue the science 
 and art of la haute cuisine. Did I tell you about it ? I 
 hope to show it to you some day. But this afternoon in 
 the carriage, if you remember, I told you that I had pre- 
 pared a little picnic. The ordinary picnic sitting on the 
 ground, eating cold indigestibles, contracting rheuma- 
 tism, and warring with insects does not appeal to 
 me. My lady required distraction, and I was deter- 
 
 248
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 mined she should have it ; but in comfort. Your seat 
 is cosy?" 
 
 " It is luxurious." 
 
 "And this is not like anything else you have ever done, 
 I will undertake to say." 
 
 " No, indeed ; it is quite original. But you are noth- 
 ing if not unexpected. I'm so glad I came." 
 
 " You can imagine how disappointed I should have 
 been if you had not." 
 
 He handed her the cordial. She sipped and sipped 
 again. 
 
 " Nectar, indeed," she ejaculated. " What is it ?" 
 
 He smiled enigmatically, raised his own goblet, and 
 also sipped. 
 
 " To my lady," he said. 
 
 The light fell tenderly upon him through the diamond 
 panes of the lattice window, and upon the dark, polished 
 panels of the comfortable old house-place. It looked 
 like an oak parlor of two hundred years ago, with a little 
 touch of modern comfort in disguise added to relieve 
 the severity. Mrs. Kingconstance nestled among her 
 cushions. The footstool she found at her feet was just 
 the right height. The little round table at which they sat 
 shone resplendent when the cloth was withdrawn. There 
 was only one dish of fruit for dessert, but then such fruit ! 
 a joy to the eye and a delight to the palate. Mrs. 
 Kingconstance vowed she could not tell which was the 
 greater gratification, seeing it or eating it. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond opened a case full of gold-tipped ciga- 
 rettes, half held it out to her, and archly smiled. 
 
 " Have you ever ?" he breathed. 
 
 She acknowledged that she had. 
 
 " Not before the children, you know. But Lorraine 
 does, regularly. Do you think it is a bad habit ?" 
 
 " 1 think it is a good resource in times of trouble," he 
 said. " Soothing, sedative. Just one ?" 
 
 349
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 As she took it she observed that his eyes were kind. 
 
 The smoke of the perfumed cigarettes went up. The 
 delicious fragrance of coffee pervaded the place. A 
 gracious sense of well-being suffused her, a conscious- 
 ness of ethereal happiness, compared with which any 
 pleasure she had ever before experienced seemed gross. 
 Between the whiffs of her cigarette she sipped her coffee 
 daintily, as she had sipped her cordial. Mr. Jelly bond 
 also smoked and sipped. Little remarks about nothing 
 fell from them at intervals ; but the perfection of com- 
 panionship had set in, they were independent of talk. 
 Mrs. Kingconstance wished that the moment might last 
 forever. 
 
 The witch, meanwhile, looked on as a cook might at 
 some process of confection upon which her credit de- 
 pended. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Kingconstance observed that she had 
 a pack of cards in her hand. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond looked at his watch. 
 
 " Alas ! we must respect the enemy," he said. " Shall 
 we ask the good mother to speer ?" 
 
 " Good mother, sit down and tell us what to anticipate," 
 Mrs. Kingconstance said, graciously. " Tell us all the 
 good there is in store for us." 
 
 " Let me see your hands, lady," the woman said. 
 
 She sat down beside Mrs. Kingconstance and looked 
 into one hand and then into the other, comparing them. 
 
 " You've had your troubles," she said, oracularly, 
 " and you've made them ; and you'll have your troubles 
 again, and you'll make them. That's in your nature. 
 You've lost by death, and you'll lose by death again." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, 1 hope not !" Mrs. Kingconstance ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " You've married once, and you'll marry again." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance looked up involuntarily. Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney had delicately withdrawn. 
 
 250
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Are you sure ?" she whispered. 
 
 "You'll marry again," the woman repeated, impertur- 
 bably ; " not for money this time, nor for position, but 
 for comfort. When the lover comes as ses : ' I've noth- 
 ing to offer you but happiness, my lady/ you'll take him, 
 if you're wise ; you'll leave him, if you must. If you 
 take him, you'll know what joy is." 
 
 * Will it be like this afternoon that cordial?" She 
 clutched at her throat in the effort to express herself. 
 " Like young love ?" 
 
 " It will be like young love, because love is always 
 young," the woman answered ; " and it will be like this 
 afternoon only it will last. The joy, when it comes, 
 will come to stay ; and the more you take him in the face 
 of everybody the better it will be. But if you leave 
 him, it will be loss, loss, loss." 
 
 " Can't you tell me who it is ?" Mrs. Kingconstance 
 pleaded. 
 
 "You'll know time enough, if you don't know already," 
 the old woman answered. " You'll never have no doubt 
 in yourself, whatever you may say, from the moment 
 you think of him and marriage." 
 
 " Time is up," said Mr. Jelly bond from the doorway. 
 u 1 must hurry my lady home." 
 
 251
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THAT picnic in the wood was the beginning of a 
 very good time for Mrs. Kingconstance. She 
 would not have called it a good time ; she would 
 have considered the expression well, not quite 
 nice, you know. 
 
 She was as romantic as a schoolgirl and so was Mr. 
 Jelly bond Tinney. There was no reason why they 
 should not have met when they chose in the ordinary 
 way; their doing so would have excited no comment. 
 Mr. Jellybond had always been in the habit of dividing 
 himself up pretty equally among the ladies of the neigh- 
 bqrhood. If he were seen with Mrs. Kingconstance one 
 day, he was seen the next with Mrs. Normanton, the 
 next with some one else, and each lady was so satisfied 
 with his attentions that she lived upon the recollection, 
 to the exclusion of am^ other idea with regard to him, 
 until they met again. Consequently, so far as he was 
 concerned, scandal slumbered and slept. His safety 
 lay in the number of strings he had to his bow. 
 
 But neither he nor Mrs. Kingconstance would have 
 been satisfied now with anything ordinary in the way of 
 reunions. There is no thrill like the thrill of romantic ad- 
 venture, especially to a person who tastes it for the first 
 time late in life after an absolutely conventional career ; 
 and the one experience Mrs. Kingconstance had had of 
 it had set up a craving for more, which it taxed all Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney's ingenuity to satisfy. He would 
 not allow her to cross the confines of the compromising, 
 
 252
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 but kept her hovering on the borders, where she delight- 
 ed to be, his intention being to crown an honorable career 
 in the county, and safely establish himself in everybody's 
 estimation by marrying her eventually an intention 
 which would have been frustrated by the slightest pre- 
 nuptial scandal. Cadenhouse's influence in that respect 
 was supreme in the neighborhood. Everybody respect- 
 ed the appearance of propriety, and strove to preserve it, 
 whatever happened. 
 
 But Mr. Jellybond Tinney found food for Mrs. King- 
 constance's newly developed love of excitement in many 
 innocent little games into which cooking, cordial, ciga- 
 rettes, and coffee came as regularly as afternoon tea into 
 her ordinary life. These, indeed, were the staple of 
 every entertainment, the end in view, whatever other in- 
 tention formed the pretence of an expedition. There had 
 been no talk of marriage between them, no formal pro- 
 posal, no serious love-making. A little dainty tic-toy- 
 ing was enough for the present enough for Mr. Jelly- 
 bond, because there was business in his attitude towards 
 Mrs. Kingconstance ; and for her because the romantic 
 moments of later life are necessarily numbered. These 
 were her last, perhaps ; and she strove involuntarily to 
 prolong them, to make the most of each in its turn with- 
 out a thought of the next. Besides, another considera- 
 tion held them in check. 
 
 They both knew that the cooking, cordial, cigarettes, 
 and coffee would have quite a different flavor when they 
 could be had without difficulty ; and that when there 
 were no more plans to be made the aspect of all things 
 would alter, and life would again become as insipid as 
 exercise on a wooden horse. Only Mrs. Kingconstance 
 naturally felt this more than Mr. Jellybond, because he 
 had more plans than matrimony in his mind matri- 
 mony being to him a means to other ends, but to Mrs. 
 Kingconstance an end in itself. And because he had 
 
 253
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 other ideas in his mind, it was Mr. Jellybond who tired 
 first of playing at romance, and determined to come to 
 the point. He arrived at this determination one morn- 
 ing at breakfast. In the afternoon he dressed for the 
 part. 
 
 When he arrived at Dane Court he found Mrs. King- 
 constance feeling rather low. Her sister-in-law was ill 
 in bed with influenza ; Julia had gone to spend the day 
 and night with Meg Normanton, and Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance proclaimed herself out of sorts. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Jellybond, " you are not out of sorts 
 pardon me for contradicting you. You are looking 
 splendid, which you would not be if you were out of sorts. 
 Oh, health, health is the great beautifier ! I congratu- 
 late my lady on her radiant health." 
 
 " Well, there's something the matter," said Mrs. King- 
 constance, beaming upon him. 
 
 " Of course there is," he agreed. " You're bored ; 
 that's whai you're suffering from boredom. You re- 
 quire distraction, and you must have it. Let me see. 
 Ask me to stay to dinner, and let us dine together in the 
 tent. I will send for my batterie, and there shall be a 
 dainty dish to set before my queen, I promise you." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance clapped her hands affectedly. 
 
 " Delightful !" she exclaimed. " But we ought to 
 have a third person." 
 
 " Oh, the bother of the chaperon !" he sighed. " Well, 
 ask somebody who can't come the vicar and Miss Spice. 
 She had a dreadful toothache, and he has taken her to 
 town to see the dentist. They cannot possibly be back 
 in time." 
 
 " Oh, naughty ! naughty!" Mrs. Kingconstance cried, 
 with elaborate playfulness. 
 
 " Do !" he urged. 
 
 " Shall I ?" she asked of all things, with a flutter of 
 her hands, palms outward. She was not made to be 
 
 254
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 volatile her figure was much too solid for that pose ; 
 but she was happily unconscious of any discrepancy 
 between her appearance and her manner. People usu- 
 ally are, unfortunately for observers with any apprecia- 
 tion of aesthetic values. But in that respect Mr. Jelly- 
 bond was not nice. When a handsome, rather stout, 
 elderly woman became youthful and nighty in his pres- 
 ence, all he saw was the compliment to himself. 
 
 He offered her his arm and led her to the writing-table. 
 She made some further pretence of hesitating, then wrote 
 the notes, and asked him to ring. 
 
 " Thomas," she said to the footman, " dinner in the 
 tent for four. Tell Benson, and take these notes at 
 once. Send also to the Swiss Cottage " 
 
 " I'd better go and see about that myself/' Mr. Jelly- 
 bond interrupted. " What had you thought of for 
 dinner ? But, never mind. I'll go and consult with the 
 cook. You must leave everything to me. Thomas, I 
 shall want your help, please." 
 
 When they had gone Mrs. Kingconstance ran up to a 
 mirror, patted her hair with both hands, and smiled at 
 herself complacently. Then she began to think about 
 what she should wear amber or purple. While so en- 
 gaged her eye happened to light on a letter which was 
 lying unopened on her writing-table. It had come by 
 the morning post, but she had not troubled about it. 
 
 She knew what it was an informal sort of report, 
 which came periodically from Montacute's tutor. She 
 opened it now and glanced at it. Hitherto Montacute 
 had always been reported as well and doing well. This 
 time she gathered that his health was not satisfactory, 
 and the tutor asked if there were anything she would 
 like to have done. Montacute's health never had been 
 satisfactory, so that did not strike her as unusual ; and 
 what could she have done ? What did the man mean ? 
 As she could not imagine, she put the letter in her pocket, 
 
 255
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 thinking she would consult Mr. Jellybond about it and 
 not worry. 
 
 The tent was a new departure at Dane Court. It was 
 Mr. Jellybond's idea, and he had ordered it, chosen a 
 lovely site for it in the grounds, and seen to its decora- 
 tion himself. Outside it was a mere ordinary good, 
 thick, double-waterproof tent ; but inside it was ar- 
 ranged with all the silken luxury the lady loved. The 
 neighborhood had been as much excited about that tent 
 as if it had been an item added to the progress of civil- 
 ization ; and Mrs. Kingconstance had given many de- 
 lightful little parties there. During the long summer 
 evenings the guests were invited to see the sunset. Now 
 the attraction was the autumn moon. But it was the 
 end of September, and, although that particular day was 
 hot, there could not be much more weather suitable for 
 the tent. Mrs. Kingconstance sighed at the reflection. 
 It was sad to think that there must be an end to such 
 a summer. 
 
 When at last she tripped down-stairs, dressed for the 
 evening in purple and black, and not looking thirty, 
 she found her own carriage waiting at the door, and was 
 informed that the coachman had gone, according to or- 
 ders, to fetch Miss Spice and Mr. Worringham, but nei- 
 ther of them had returned from town. 
 
 " Oh, dear !" said Mrs. Kingconstance, innocent!}^. 
 " Well, we won't wait." 
 
 She stepped into the carriage and was driven to the 
 tent. There she found all things ready and all things 
 exquisite. The weather, the view, the color and sheen of 
 silken draperies, the easy lounges and great down cush- 
 ions, the flowers, the tender perfume of the evening air, 
 the rose-tinted lamps within, the delicate lilac twilight 
 without all united to make the scene a dream of lux- 
 urious ease and beauty. Such a scene would have ap- 
 pealed to Mrs. Kingconstance's pampered senses at any 
 
 256
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 time, but did so just then especially because of the haze 
 of romantic feeling, the simmering passion, which add- 
 ed a potent charm to everything and rendered her 
 peculiarly susceptible to all that influences to ecstasy. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney handed her from the carriage. 
 
 " Where are the other dear people ?" he asked. 
 
 " Still in town just fancy !" she answered, inwardly 
 priding herself on a strict adherence to the truth. " But 
 never mind ; we'll dine all the same." 
 
 The dinner began with a hors d'oeuwe in apotheosis 
 a morsel of delight which Mrs. Kingconstance would fain 
 have repeated, but Mr. Jellybond would not allow her. 
 
 " Regret that there is not more of it is the attitude of 
 mind which proves the success of the hors d'oeume," he 
 said ; " but it does not do to repeat the pleasure. Con- 
 solation comes with the consomme, if it be right ; if not, 
 with the poisson." 
 
 When the servants were out of ear-shot Mrs. King- 
 constance said to him gayly : 
 
 " Don't you think we're a loss to the stage ? That 
 last little farce, when I descended from the carriage, 
 seemed to me to be most convincing." 
 
 " Oh, entirely convincing," he agreed. 
 
 The good lady's whole nature seemed to have changed 
 under the influence of her recent emotional experiences. 
 No one would have suspected that she was capable of 
 any sort of intrigue, and here she was delighting in it 
 so long as no actual untruth was told ; delighting in the 
 success of petty deceits, of shifts and contrivances, which 
 not so very long before she would have been the first to 
 stigmatize as contemptible. When passion is added to 
 luxurious habits weak people are apt to be demoralized, 
 and Mrs. Kingconstance was weak. It was Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney's caution, and not her own prudence, that 
 had kept her within bounds at all. 
 
 She made a lovely bit of color reclining there on her 
 R 257
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 satin cushions, with her milk-white skin, the brilliant 
 carmine of her cheeks and lips, her glossy black hair, 
 and her purple draperies. Mr. Jellybond Tinney, who 
 had always admired her, found himself gazing at her 
 now in surprise and curiosity. She seemed to have en- 
 tered upon a new phase of beauty a firmer phase. The 
 flabbiness of body and mind induced by much lolling, 
 carriage exercise, high living, and profound self-con- 
 tent had disappeared in a burst of energy one of those 
 flashes of youth which startle us on occasion in a friend 
 whom we have never thought of as young. It is true 
 that she lolled on her great down cushions now, but 
 there was an alertness in her glance which belied her 
 attitude. She looked as if on the slightest provocation 
 she could have straightened herself and shown forceful- 
 ness both of character and constitution. 
 
 During dinner the conversation ran on the various 
 dishes principally, a subject of the keenest interest. The 
 " slight refection " consisted of many courses that night, 
 and Mrs. Kingconstance took a morsel of each, and 
 loved that morsel as she ate it ; and, while waiting for 
 the next course, discussed its merits as a morsel with 
 more intelligence than she was wont to bring to the dis- 
 cussion of any other matter. Yet very little was said. 
 When the senses are satisfied the mind has but scant 
 appeal. Men give themselves up to such moments more 
 readily than women do, but these two were quite in ac- 
 cord. The servants moved like shadows about them ; 
 they paid no heed to their presence. The twilight with- 
 out deepened to darkness ; then came the moon, unseen 
 itself, but showing the hills, the sky, the quiet woods 
 in an enchanted haze, an ecstasy of silvery light. They 
 watched the gathering splendor, the beautiful transfor- 
 mation scene, in silence and were reminded of some- 
 thing once seen in an opera, the name of which they 
 could not recollect. But what did it matter ? 
 
 258
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 The dessert was set ; the moment for the cordial had 
 come. They sipped it in solemn silence. Mrs. King- 
 constance would not have spoiled its influence for a mo- 
 ment by a word. She held her own being in suspense so 
 as to lose no movement of the liquid delight as it spread 
 insidiously, taking gradual possession of every nerve 
 in her body, and suffusing her at the same time with a 
 strange, warm glow, which was succeeded by a sensa- 
 tion of bliss, a dreamy state, a kind of stupor, although 
 full consciousness was never suspended. 
 
 Whatever the potent mixture was (and Mr. Jellybond 
 never would tell her), there was no baneful reaction after 
 it. It played crescendo upon the emotions and then 
 evaporated, leaving only a certain languor which yield- 
 ed to strong coffee, and such a recollection of its effect 
 as should make it to be greatly desired forevermore. 
 
 When the coffee was served, the cigarettes lighted, 
 and the servants had retired, Mr. Jellybond determined 
 to propose. But while he waited he experienced a curi- 
 ous flood of recollection. His thoughts strayed to his 
 first arrival in the neighborhood, his first meeting with 
 Miss Spice, and to all that was important in their subse- 
 quent acquaintance. Poor little Ally ! Well, she owed 
 him some happy days. He thought of his first visit to 
 Mrs. Normanton, and with the recollection there came the 
 consciousness of the balmy odor of pine-trees with the 
 sun upon them, and of the cawing of rooks ; the happy 
 accompaniment to that impromtu tea which had been 
 such a success. He thought of Fanny Sturdy, of Mrs. 
 Japp, and of Florence particularly of Florence. There 
 came to him also a vision of the long evenings alone, 
 those delicious evenings of ample leisure, undisturbed by 
 any ache, when he first discovered fiction, and, yielding 
 to the wondrous spell, was borne into hitherto unsus- 
 pected realms of thought and emotion, was made ac- 
 quainted with hitherto unsuspected varieties of man- 
 
 259
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 kind, with strange phases of life, curious complexities of 
 character, of motives, of alternating moods, and endless 
 other subtleties of being. Having seen enough in his 
 own career to enable him to recognize the truth, the in- 
 terest, and the importance of a good delineation, he had 
 become a most appreciative reader. He delighted in 
 romantic incident ; but analytical work fascinated him 
 even more. When the two were combined, he revelled. 
 From mere dramatic scenes he w r ent empty away, be- 
 cause he was not content only to see the characters play 
 their parts ; he wanted also to see the working of the 
 machinery that moved them. 
 
 Certainly his uneventful life in Danehurst had been 
 wonderfully rich in eccentric emotions. Talk of the joy 
 of eventful living ! Who that has known both would 
 compare events of action with events of feeling ? Simple 
 living and complex feeling that is bliss. And could 
 he improve upon the experiences of his later life by any 
 change ? The question rose involuntarily. He had 
 thought his mind fully made up ; but He looked at 
 Mrs. Kingconstance. Half turned from the table, she 
 reclined upon her pillows. One arm rested upon the 
 back of the couch. She held her cigarette daintily be- 
 tween her two fingers. Her eyes were fixed upon the 
 moonlit distance. The animation of the earlier part of 
 the evening had gone. She seemed to have sunk into 
 sensuous apathy, and was looking as beautiful and as 
 stupid as an odalisque. 
 
 Should he propose ? 
 
 His eyes searched the floor as if for an answer ; and in 
 their search they lighted upon a letter. He picked it up. 
 
 " My lady has dropped a letter," he said, holding it out. 
 
 She looked at it languidly. 
 
 " It is probably the one 1 had to-day about Monta- 
 cute," she remarked. " 1 brought it down to show you. 
 1 wish you would read it. 1 didn't half take it in." 
 
 260
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She spoke indifferently, but was vexed at the interrup- 
 tion which was spoiling her mood. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney adjusted his gold-rimmed pince- 
 nez, read the letter with the careful attention of a busi- 
 ness man, replaced it in its envelope, and looked at 
 Mrs. Kingconstance with pursed-up lips. 
 
 " Well ?" she demanded. 
 
 " What do you think of doing ?" he asked. 
 
 " Doing ?" she echoed, vaguely. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. "The boy is ill, evidently at 
 least, that is what 1 gather. They are anxious about 
 him, but do not wish to alarm you." 
 
 " Let me see the letter again," she said, somewhat im- 
 patiently. 
 
 When she had read it she looked inquiringly at Mr. 
 Jellybond. 
 
 " What do you suggest ?" she asked. 
 
 " 1 think some one should go and see how he is ex- 
 actly. It may be nothing ; it may be serious." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was silent. There was no lack 
 of kindliness in Mr. Jellybond Tinney, and her hesita- 
 tion caused him an uncomfortable qualm. When birds 
 want to build a new nest they drive their old brood away. 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was in somewhat the same mood, 
 and she was inclined to resent any attempt to make her 
 anxious about the children. 
 
 " Would you trust me to go ?" Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 ventured, after a pause. 
 
 She considered. What should she do with herself 
 while he was away ? 
 
 " Is there really any need for any one to go ?" she 
 asked. " 1 can write, you know." 
 
 " 1 think it would be better for some one to go," he 
 answered, decidedly. " I'll go to-morrow." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed; "why 
 will people get ill? This has quite spoiled our evening." 
 
 261
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Poor, dear lady !" he said. 
 
 An acute person would have perceived that his sym- 
 pathy was perfunctory. Mrs. Kingconstance accepted 
 it as serious, and was mollified. 
 
 " Don't go to-morrow, at all events, please," she plead- 
 ed, after a little reflection. " Let me write first and see 
 what they say. And 1 should like to consult Mr. Wor- 
 ringham. 1 will send for him when they answer my 
 letter, and for you too, if you will be so good as to come." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond gave her a curious look. He did not 
 appreciate the fact that it was on his account that the 
 maternal instinct was at fault for once. At the moment 
 he liked her less than any of his ladies, and the idea of 
 proposing that night melted from his mind. 
 
 " As you wish," he said, coldly. " Your mother's 
 heart should be the best guide at such a time." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Mrs. Kingconstance, taking him lit- 
 erally, as usual. " You can trust a mother's intuition." 
 
 If happiness be worth having, the people to be envied 
 are the comfortably stupid ; no amount of intelligence 
 would purchase the peace of mind which is theirs. Think 
 what it must be to have no doubt of yourself, of the value 
 of your own opinion, nor of the satisfaction you give to 
 your Maker! When Mrs. Kingconstance said her pray- 
 ers that night she not only thanked God for all the mer- 
 cies he had vouchsafed to her, but for those which He 
 had in store. She confided herself and her children with 
 confidence to the care of Heaven, and also told Heaven 
 what to do for them, that there might be no mistake. 
 Then she slept tranquilly and dreamed of herself in an 
 atmosphere of ecstasy of the density of cigarette smoke, 
 with somebody's arm about her. 
 
 262
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 IT was some days before Mrs. Kingconstance sum- 
 moned Mr. Jellybond Tinney to consult with Mr. 
 Worringham about Montacute's health. Miss 
 Kingconstance, convalescent from influenza, was 
 present at the interview, lying on a sofa, in a state of 
 suppressed irritation. She had been very queer for some 
 time. 
 
 " I want to ask you," Mrs. Kingconstance began, ad- 
 dressing Mr. Worringham. " I am anxious about Mon- 
 tacute his health, you know. I had rather an alarm- 
 ing letter the other day; but you know he has never 
 been strong ; so I wrote again for more information, 
 and this is the reply. I wish you would read it, and tell 
 me what you think. It is all so vague, you see." 
 
 She watched Mr. Worringham while he read, and when 
 he had finished she repeated : 
 
 " It is all so vague, you see. It is delightful to have 
 the children at home, of course " (as she spoke, she dis- 
 tinctly perceived that, with their sharp eyes about, there 
 could be no more romantic philanderings with Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney), " but a mother must think more of what 
 is good for her children than of what is agreeable to her- 
 self. Now Cute has improved very much since he left 
 home. He is inches taller and much more manly isn't 
 he, Mr. Jellybond ? You noticed a great difference last 
 holidays. And he enjoys his life ; so I would not like 
 to do anything to unsettle him unless, of course, you 
 consider it absolutely necessary. Boys at school are so 
 
 363
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 very easily unsettled, although, of course, Montacute is 
 not at school exactly only with a tutor, you know; but 
 it amounts to the same thing, because there are other 
 boys. What do you think, Mr. Worringham ?" 
 
 " Essentially," he said. " Yes, essentially." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " It amounts to the same thing, you know," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 " That doesn't get us much further," Miss Kingcon- 
 stance snapped. 
 
 " It was about unsettling him, I was thinking," Mrs. 
 Kingconstance hastily put in, anxious to prevent a 
 breach of the peace. " I am afraid to be too precipitate." 
 
 " Naturally," said Mr. Worringham. " It is a mistake 
 to be too precipitate." 
 
 " Boys at school are so very easily unsettled," she 
 suggested. 
 
 " That's it, dear lady yes," he agreed, " that's it ex- 
 actly. Why, when I was at school I experienced that 
 more than once myself. On one occasion, in particular 
 how well I remember it ! my mother wrote to tell me 
 she was going to send me a hamper, and would you 
 believe it ? I could do nothing after I heard of that ham- 
 per but wonder what would be in it. I never learned a 
 lesson that week I didn't, indeed. It interfered with my 
 prayers even. When I tried to learn the multiplication 
 table it looked like a row of good things which resolved 
 themselves into a sum to be divided by eight exactly 
 the number of boys in my dormitory. And I was so full 
 of ideas on the subject that when my master asked me 
 one morning which were the vowels, instead of answer- 
 ing ' a, e, i, o, u, and sometimes w and y,' I said ' goose, 
 turkey, tongue, jam, and cake, and sometimes fruit and 
 wine.' I did, indeed. The master said, ' Impertinence,' 
 and thrashed me for it. But it wasn't impertinence, you 
 know. It just showed what I was thinking about, don't 
 
 264
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 you know that was all. But how one's ideas do change, 
 to be sure ! Why, the prospect of a hamper nowadays 
 would not distract me for a moment. So you see, dear 
 lady" 
 
 But here the good gentleman was obliged to pause. 
 That last little stream of reflection dashing into the 
 steadier current of his reminiscences had put him out. 
 He made an effort to find the point which he had intend- 
 ed the anecdote to illustrate, but failed, and could only 
 beam round on them all pleasantly by way of conclusion. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance looked up at the ceiling with an 
 exclamation of impatience. Mrs. Kingconstance took 
 her own view of the matter. 
 
 " Then you agree with me that I had better not do any- 
 thing to unsettle him ?" she said. 
 
 " Oh, quite," he replied. 
 
 " But the question is," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, 
 speaking for the first time, " what are you going to do ?" 
 
 Miss Kingconstance lowered her eyes and looked at 
 him shrewdly. 
 
 "Oh, well, I thought " Mrs. Kingconstance began. 
 " Cute is very studious, you know. It is more than prob- 
 able he has overworked himself ; in which case rest and 
 a little change to the seaside, perhaps, for a week or 
 two" 
 
 " Rest and a little fiddlestick," said Miss Kingcon- 
 stance. " Bring him home at once, and have the best 
 advice that can be got for him. Cute's health is not a 
 thing to be trifled with." 
 
 " I am entirely of your opinion," said Mr. Jellybond. 
 
 " For once 1" she said. " Well, I'm glad of it on this 
 occasion. * I saw that you had arrived with your mind 
 made up. I notice that you are naturally impatient of 
 shilly-shally, in spite of your drawl. You were not born 
 with that drawl, I suspect. At all events there is no 
 drawl in your character." 
 
 265
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * There used not to be/' he said, sincerely ; " but some- 
 how I am not quite the man I was." 
 
 " You've been letting yourself go/' she said. " You're 
 getting flabby." 
 
 He rested his chin on the top of his walking-stick, and 
 perused the carpet. 
 
 " Oh, dear !" said Mrs. Kingconstance. " Please don't 
 quarrel when I am in such a difficulty." 
 
 " There is no difficulty," Miss Kingconstance replied. 
 " Montacute is ill and must be brought home at once. 
 I am ill, so I can't go and fetch him. You are not a wom- 
 an of action. We must rely on Mr. Jeltybond." 
 
 " Mr. Jelly bond is to be relied upon," he answered for 
 himself. " He has made his arrangements and is ready 
 to depart by the first train in the morning." 
 
 " But we've not discussed the matter at all," said Mrs. 
 Kingconstance, peevishly. " You are going too fast, 
 you two. Mr. Worringham, what do you think ?" 
 
 She spoke so sharply that the old vicar sat up. 
 
 " I er think so, too," he said. 
 
 " You think they're going too fast ?" 
 
 " Er no, on this occasion I think the faster the bet- 
 ter." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance yielded with an ill grace. Mr. 
 Jelly bond was the last to go. She wished him to spend 
 the evening with her, but he firmly refused. 
 
 "An important matter requires my attention in an- 
 other direction," he said. " A duty, you may be sure 
 or I could not resist the temptation." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance smiled, but there was a chill at 
 her heart. She felt instinctively that the first note of 
 change had struck, and found herself full of vague ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 " 1 should like to go to Thorne Lodge," she whispered. 
 
 " That is where 1 am going," he answered, looking 
 into her eyes significantly. 
 
 266
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Then 1 am content to let you go/' she said, holding 
 out both hands to him. 
 
 He raised them to his lips, held them an instant, 
 gently restored them to her, and was gone. 
 
 It was a most effective exit. Mrs. Kingconstance 
 stood still for some seconds listening to his receding 
 footsteps ; then she clasped her hands to her heart, 
 sighed, glanced at herself in a mirror, and went off to 
 dress for dinner. 
 
 That evening she took a little dry champagne to 
 keep her up. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney went his way full of thought. 
 He felt no chill of apprehension, such as Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance suffered, nevertheless he was not quite himself. 
 He had the sensation which comes when storms are 
 brewing a sense of pause, of oppression, of expecta- 
 tion, of something solemn pending. 
 
 The moon shone brightly down upon him as he 
 emerged from the avenue. He crossed the high-road 
 and climbed the hill, making direct for Thorne Lodge by 
 the shortest cut. The hill was high and steep, and, on 
 the brow of it, before entering the forest, he paused to 
 take breath. The scene was familiar enough to him ; 
 but that night he discovered something strange in the 
 aspect of the most familiar things. 
 
 Beneath him, on the right, stood Dane Court, the 
 whole front of the house, with lights in many of the win- 
 dows, distinctly visible. Much farther away, on the left, 
 across the hollow seen above a dark, irregular line of 
 trees, and not so much seen as imagined by one who 
 knew the lie of it well the moonlight fell on the high, 
 old chimneys, the pointed gables, and sloping roofs of 
 the all but deserted mansion of Wyldeholme. Why was 
 it left silent and solitary, so fine a place, and why is it 
 that always in this world some one despises what an- 
 other is dying to have ? To be an English landed gentle- 
 
 267
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 man, to have wealth and position and power, to feel that 
 wherever you went you were wanted and respected, not 
 just tolerated, and noticed or neglected according to the 
 convenience of the moment to be born to these things 
 must be grand ; but to rise to them, to feel the pride and 
 privilege of them after having experienced all the galling 
 contrast of life in a lower grade, must be glory. So 
 mused Mr. Jellybond Tinney, and wondered at himself. 
 
 It was not so very long since the idea of living as he 
 was living then, master of the Swiss Cottage and moving 
 in good society, would have appeared the idlest of day- 
 dreams to him ; yet here he stood in the moonlight, 
 feeling a fine contempt for his present position, as if the 
 step which should raise him to a higher had been taken, 
 as long as contemplated, and his footing were already 
 secure. 
 
 There must have been but a half-developed soul in the 
 man in whom that lovely scene of hill and dale and 
 wood and water, here distinct in the moonlight, there 
 shrouded in shadow, could arouse no sublime emotion 
 who could contemplate the mystery of the beauty of the 
 heavens and the earth unmoved by nobler thoughts 
 than those which sprang from the sordid desire of self- 
 aggrandisement, the miserable hope of petty renown. 
 But what did Mr. Jellybond Tinney care for the size of 
 his soul or the quality of his ambition so long as he 
 succeeded ? If he had thought of either it would prob- 
 ably have been to congratulate himself upon having 
 gained in comfort what he had lost in nobility before 
 that scene; he would have rejoiced to feel his spirits rise 
 high above the melancholy that must have laid hold of 
 him had he been weak enough to trouble about the lot of 
 mankind in general at that moment, instead of turning 
 his attention towards the pleasant future which was 
 probably in store for himself in particular. 
 
 Following swift upon the desire to possess came the 
 
 268
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 assurance in himself that he had only to ask and have, 
 and with the assurance his spirits went up ; so that, 
 when at last he plunged into the wood, considering his 
 age and size, his step was as buoyant as his hopes were 
 high. He even frivolled a little. As he turned off the 
 more frequented way onto the narrow path which led to 
 Thorne Lodge, and passed beneath the great forest trees, 
 the crisp brown leaves came showering down upon him 
 and made a merry crackling under his feet. He began 
 to kick them about. He walked through deep drifts of 
 them as children do. He skipped from one drift to an- 
 other with singular agility, and, altogether gravely, 
 there alone in the moonlight, he shamed the dignity of 
 his ponderous person by the lightness of his conduct. 
 
 About Thorne Lodge all was orderly. From one 
 chimney at the end of the house the smoke curled up- 
 ward ; but that was the only sign of life about the 
 place. There were no lights in the windows, and all 
 was so still that the babble of an unseen brook close 
 by smote upon the ear obtrusively. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney opened the door and walked in. 
 
 " Good mother," he said. 
 
 " Good mother " was sitting on the settle with her back 
 to the lattice window. In her hands, which rested on 
 the round table in front of her, she clasped a pack of 
 cards. The moonlight, streaming down upon her 
 through quivering branches of woodbine berries and 
 diamond panes, cast strange shadows upon the floor. 
 
 " 1 know'd you'd come," was her salutation. " I'll 
 light up now." 
 
 " The prophetic spirit has not played you false," he 
 said. " But you might have lighted up a little sooner. 
 It feels eerie with all this oak about." 
 
 * If it weren't for the eerieness there'd be no prophetic 
 spirit," she said. " It's mightily increased since you got 
 that oak. How are you ?" 
 
 269
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " My mind is at ease/' he replied. " My conscience is 
 serene as the quiet autumn eve without. What a thing 
 it is to have a good conscience and to be content ! 1 
 have the one ; 1 am the other. And yet 1 fain would 
 know." 
 
 " Drop it, Tinney," she said. " No fooling here." 
 
 She put the lamp on the table, sat down, and began 
 to shuffle the cards in a business-like way. 
 
 He took the seat opposite to her. 
 
 " Hev' you popped the question yet ?" she demanded, 
 abruptly, raising her keen eyes for a moment and peer- 
 ing at him from under her heavy eyebrows. She handed 
 him the cards as she spoke. He shuffled them well 
 without looking at them, laid the pack face downward 
 on the table, cut it in halves, cut each half once to right 
 and left, then pushed the four little packs towards her. 
 She gathered them up. 
 
 " The time has not yet come," he said, slowly, in an- 
 swer to her question. 
 
 " 1 thought it might be that," she muttered, as she laid 
 out the cards in rows before her and proceeded to study 
 the combinations, " for there's a Change coming," she 
 read from the cards, touching three or four with the 
 points of her fingers as she made each separate an- 
 nouncement " there's a Change coming which You 
 here are to Bring About ; and it will be a Change for 
 the Better see ? or I'm much mistaken. But there's 
 Trouble, too Interference it looks like and there's 
 Sickness it's at a Distance, though, and it's this Fair 
 Man ; but whether it's a distance of Time or of Place I 
 can't make out. Here, shuffle and cut again, and we'll 
 try for Distance." 
 
 " No need," he said, pushing the cards away from him. 
 " 1 know all about it. The boy is ill and I'm going to 
 fetch him home." 
 
 The woman seized the cards excitedly. 
 
 270
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " He's going to die/' she said, showing the ace of 
 spades wrong side up ; " and if he dies 
 
 " The more's the pity, poor little chap," said Mr. Jel- 
 lybond Tinney. 
 
 The woman looked at him sharply. 
 
 " Are you fooling again ?" she demanded. 
 
 " No, I'm in earnest for once/' he replied. " 1 say it's 
 a pity. There's that little chap with everything in the 
 world worth having and no power to enjoy it any of it." 
 
 " 1 grant you that," she said. " But if anything hap- 
 pens to him, so much the better for you." 
 
 He gathered up the cards and shuffled them medi- 
 tatively. 
 
 " Well, there's one thing you may be sure of," he said, 
 after a pause, " and that is that nothing will happen to 
 him if 1 can help it. I'm not a model, 1 know, but 1 
 recognize that there's right and there's wrong, there's 
 good and there's evil, there's crooked and there's 
 straight ; and 1 mean to go straight. 1 may be a weak 
 fool, but that's my idea." 
 
 " So you've always professed," she said, significantly. 
 
 " Yes," he rejoined ; "and when 1 lived up to it 1 did 
 well for myself. It's when 1 fall away from that idea 
 that 1 make mistakes." 
 
 " You're a queer shot, Tinney," she remarked, look- 
 ing gratified, as though this eccentricity of his redound- 
 ed to her credit. 
 
 She took the cards from him and began to lay them 
 out in fours. He watched her with interest. When the 
 whole pack was laid she studied the combinations, pick- 
 ing them out as before with the points of her fingers. 
 
 " The game is in your own hands," she announced, 
 with a grim smile. 
 
 " It always has been," he interjected. 
 
 His eyes followed her fingers as they coupled the 
 cards and separated them into groups. 
 
 271
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " The game will be in your own hands/' she repeated. 
 " The boy will die sure enough see, here's his death. 
 And here are you." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney leaned over to look at the com- 
 bination, and saw something in it which visibly made 
 him pause. Without changing his attitude he raised 
 his eyes to the old woman's face, and they gazed at 
 each other for a tragic interval. 
 
 " You can't help it, Tinney, "she said, at last, a ring of 
 compassion in her usually hard voice. " What's on the 
 cards is not of your putting. Man is not mightier than 
 fate. That boy's death lies at your door." 
 
 * It shall not lie at my door, so help me !" the big man 
 swore. "A man may master his fate when he knows 
 what to fear. I'll do my duty by the boy. I've said it, 
 once for all." 
 
 He threw himself back in his chair as he spoke. All 
 his blandness and largeness and air of deliberation 
 had gone out. One might have mistaken him for his 
 own brother in a state of distress. 
 
 " Soft heart and hard head are always at war," said 
 the woman. " But never mind, Tinney. There's a 
 good time coming at least " 
 
 She was looking at the cards again, and as she spoke 
 she changed countenance. His own attention was quick- 
 ened, and his mood of the moment before was blotted 
 out by a new interest. 
 
 "At least, there's something coming that we didn't ex- 
 pect," she pursued in a low voice. " Look here. Here's 
 another Woman coming, here's your Thoughts set upon 
 her, and here's Danger. Here's all you want for the 
 asking, and there you are " she spoke with infinite 
 disgust " there you are, turning your back on it all for 
 the sake of this Strange Woman." 
 
 Once more he leaned over and looked at the cards, 
 and as he did so he seemed to expand again into 
 
 272
 
 'THAT BOYS DEATH LIES AT YOUR DOOR'
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 his usual self and become as a fresh fig to a dried 
 one. 
 
 " Well, good mother," he said, coolly, " if it's on the 
 cards, what am / to do ? Fate is fate, as you say. The , 
 love of woman is not to be had in heaven. Clearly we 
 were meant to make the most of it here below. On that 
 score the gods have nothing to reproach me with. I've 
 always taken all the good things sent me in the shape 
 of lovely woman, and praised and blessed them for it. 
 You tell me I've been weak that way. Well, well ! 1 
 dare say you're right ; but what am 1 to do ? 1 sup- 
 pose an incorrigible ass is always er an ass that is 
 incorrigible." 
 
 For answer " good mother " gathered up the cards 
 and flung them in his face. They showered about him, 
 and slid and trickled off him onto the floor all but one 
 which had stuck in his waistcoat. He took it out and 
 looked at it. It was the ten of hearts. 
 
 " Large family and happy wedded life," he said, com- 
 plaisantly. " 1 accept the omen. Every other prognos- 
 tication 1 cancel." 
 
 " Hush, Tinney !" said the woman, glancing about her 
 nervously. 
 
 " The powers of darkness be blowed !" he said, jaun- 
 tily. "1 kiss my hand to them. Large family and 
 happy wedded life that is the omen. Bring the bottles 
 and let us lay the spirits." 
 
 The woman's irritation had passed in the act of fling- 
 ing the cards at him. She rose now with something 
 between apprehension and admiration in her face. 
 
 " If you cancel the cards, you dare-devil, it'll be by 
 good luck rather than by good management," she mut- 
 tered ; " but more unlikely things have come to pass." 
 s 273
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 [R. JELLYBOND TINNEY found Montacute ly- 
 ing on a sofa by an open window, looking out 
 listlessly. His head was resting on the window- 
 sill, his eyes were fixed on the people passing 
 to and fro in the park below, but his thoughts were else- 
 where if, indeed, he were thinking at all, which was 
 doubtful. His whole attitude betokened exhaustion ; 
 and not only the power to exert himself seemed wanting, 
 but also the wish. He had grown extraordinarily tall, 
 but was thin to emaciation. His natural colorlessness 
 was accentuated by the transparency of his skin. He 
 looked like a wax figure with attenuated veins ill drawn 
 on the surface in burnt umber. 
 
 He was not expecting Mr. Jellybond Tinney, and the 
 surprise of his arrival roused him somewhat. There 
 had been a smouldering feud between them, because 
 Montacute resented Mr. Jellybond Tinney's influence 
 over his mother, and was always on the watch to prevent 
 him taking too much upon himself; but away from home 
 that feeling was in abeyance, and he was glad to see him. 
 The first glance had satisfied Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 that there was ground for alarm, but no one would have 
 suspected it from his manner. 
 
 * I'm up in town for a few days," he said, " and just 
 came in to say ' How do you do ?' By-the-way, how do 
 you do ? As a rule, when people come to ask us that 
 question, in that sort of way, they don't wait for an 
 answer. Is that an interesting book you have there ?" 
 
 274
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * It's Virgil/' said Montacute. 
 
 " In the Greek, J suppose/' said Mr. Jelly bond Tinney, 
 blinking. 
 
 Montacute looked at him for a moment in uncertain- 
 ty. Then it dawned upon him that old Jellybond had 
 given himself away, and sudden seriousness descended 
 like a mask upon his countenance. 
 
 " I'm fond of the classics myself, but not in the origi- 
 nal," Mr. Jellybond pursued, disarming adverse criti- 
 cism by frank confession, as was his wont. " 1 never 
 mastered dead languages; 1 never had the chance. 
 By-the-way, now that 1 come to look at you, you don't 
 seem very fit." 
 
 " I'm not quite fit/' said Montacute. 
 
 " Been working too hard, 1 suppose. Why not come 
 down home for a change ?" . . 
 
 " 1 had not thought of it." 
 
 " Well, think of it now, and come back with me/' 
 
 " 1 can't be bothered." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney was baffled. 
 
 " It would do your mother good," he ventured. 
 
 Montacute ignored the suggestion. 
 
 Then there was a pause. rr.y 
 
 " No, you certainly are not looking well," Mr. Jelly- 
 bond began again, at last. "You've not half flesh 
 enough on your bones for your height. You want 
 fresh air and feeding up." 
 
 " I'm sick of food," said Montacute. " They're always 
 cramming me here, from morning to night." 
 
 " They don't cram you with fresh air, I'll bet," said 
 Mr. Jellybond. " You'd better let me persuade you to 
 come back with me." 
 
 Montacute turned to the window and looked out for 
 a little. He was beginning to waver. 
 
 " There'd be such a fuss," he objected. " My mother 
 would think 1 was going to die, and Mr. Stephens 
 
 275
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 wouldn't like it, just at the beginning of the term. I'm 
 his pet pupil quite the hope of the house, you see." 
 
 Mr. Stephens entered opportunely in time to hear this 
 last remark. 
 
 " What's that you're saying ?" he asked. 
 
 " 1 say you wouldn't like it if 1 went home for a change 
 just now," Montacute answered. " Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 ney says I'm not looking fit, and wants me to go back 
 with him." 
 
 " 1 would if 1 were you," said Mr. Stephens. " You've 
 overgrown your strength, and London is not the place 
 to recoup. The air is too vitiated." 
 
 Montacute, looking from one to the other, saw signs 
 of conspiracy in their impassive faces ; but he was 
 seized upon by the cruel reserve which besets the young 
 when they suffer, and could not bring himself to ask a 
 question. 
 
 " Will you come ?" said Mr. Jellybond. 
 
 " 1 suppose so," he answered, apathetically. 
 
 * It would be as well to see a doctor, perhaps, before 
 you leave town," Mr. Jellybond said, casually, " just to 
 ask if you'd better have a tonic or something." 
 
 " 1 suppose so," Montacute reiterated. 
 
 The doctor was bland and vague. When he had ex- 
 amined Montacute he took Mr. Jellybond aside and 
 generalized delightfully on the subject of atrophy, its 
 cause and cure, for half an hour, then, concerning Monta- 
 cute, gave it as his opinion that " with care, of course ; 
 but he'd better come and see me again in a few weeks." 
 
 After that Mr. Jellybond Tinney became nervously 
 anxious to get the boy home. The bustle and prepara- 
 tion for his departure, however, had set up a reaction 
 from the state of apathy in which Mr. Jellybond had 
 found him, and he began to be difficult to manage. 
 
 " Look here, Mr. Jellybond," he said, " I'm going 
 
 276
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 over to stay with you at your hotel. 1 want to see a 
 little life before I leave London. You know the ropes. 
 1 want you to show me about. I'm over eighteen, and 
 the Zoological Gardens have ceased to satisfy me as a 
 preparatory school for the business of life. Take me 
 into the human hive, and let me see the machinery, the 
 drones and the workers, the good and the bad. If 1 
 begin to go about on my own account 1 may come to 
 grief ; but 1 shall be all right with you to show me the 
 way." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney positively declined. 
 
 " Don't ask me to take you anywhere until you're in 
 better health," he said. "You'd not be able to hold 
 your own in a row or anything at present. And it isn't 
 worth your while to come to the hotel for one night." 
 
 " You funk the responsibility," said Montacute. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 Nevertheless, he found himself obliged to accede to 
 Montacute's desire to join him at his hotel. It was, in 
 fact, more of a command than a request, for Montacute 
 was well supplied with money, and could do as he 
 pleased. 
 
 They dined together that evening, and immediately 
 after dinner Montacute took himself off to bed. Mr. 
 Jellybond saw him depart with a sigh of relief. His 
 responsibility was over for that day, at least. He was 
 still by way of defying the cards, but was uneasy 
 all the same. The prediction that the boy's death would 
 lie at his door tormented him. If fate could be foiled by 
 precaution it should be ; but what he feared was that 
 fate meant to play him one of her scurvy tricks that 
 somehow, in spite of him, Birnam Wood would be 
 brought to Dunsinane. 
 
 The next morning, when he was dressed, he went to 
 Montacute's room to see if he were ready for breakfast, 
 and found him still in bed. 
 
 277
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * I'm not going to get up," Montacute said. " I'm 
 tired and mean to rest and read a novel. Send me up 
 a good breakfast." 
 
 " I'll send for the doctor also/' said Mr. Jelly bond. 
 
 " Doctor ! Rot !" said Montacute. " Look at me ! 
 I'm. a lot better than 1 was yesterday. But I'm lazy, 
 and 1 won't move till 1 think fit." 
 
 " But the train goes " 
 
 " Confound the train !" said Montacute. " You just 
 wash your hands of the responsibility. I'm not your 
 baby boy. Send me some breakfast, there's a good fel- 
 low, do ; and leave me alone in peace with The Woman 
 in White." 
 
 He grinned up uncannily at Mr. Jelly bond as he spoke, 
 and there appeared in his face for a moment a singu- 
 lar resemblance to Babs. Now, Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 knew Babs well, and when he saw that look in her broth- 
 er's face he scented trouble. He knew that there was 
 no arguing with Babs in an obstinate mood, and foresaw 
 that it might be the same with her brother, for all his ill- 
 ness and apathy. 
 
 Montacute came down in the afternoon and took com- 
 mand of the party. 
 
 " It's too late to go home to-day," he said. " Let's go 
 for an airing. It '11 buck us up a bit. I'm very sorry 
 Babs is in Paris. If she'd been here we'd have taken 
 her too. Babs is always good company." 
 
 In the evening, directly after dinner, Montacute again 
 retired ; and again next morning he would not get up. 
 
 This continued for many days. Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 ney sent cheerful reports to Mrs. Kingconstance ; but 
 he was at his wits' end. He had not anticipated any 
 trouble at all with Montacute ; but it seemed as if the 
 boy had suddenly become a man on his hands, and a 
 headstrong man to boot. Mr. Montacute quite appre- 
 ciated the difference of position between them, and skil- 
 
 278
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 fully used the ease and grace of bearing that was his by 
 right of birth and breeding to keep Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 ney in his proper place. Race tells. In such encoun- 
 ters between plebeian and aristocrat the plebeian, how- 
 ever great his superiority as a man of character and of 
 ability, has little chance. The hereditary habits of com- 
 mand and of obedience are inveterate. In social matters, 
 where the two meet on equal terms, the child of birth takes 
 the lead as by right, and the child of the people follows 
 as of necessity. To Montacute's suave announcement 
 of his intentions Mr. Jellybond Tinney had nothing 
 more forcible to oppose than ineffectual remonstrance. 
 The charming letters he wrote to Mrs. Kingconstance 
 during this time fanned the flame of her impatience to 
 see him again ; but Montacute also wrote. He told his 
 mother that he was doing well in London, an assertion 
 that Mr. Jellybond Tinney, in view of Montacute's reg- 
 ular habits and moderation, could not refute, and de- 
 manding time and money to complete the cure neither 
 of which could his mother deny him for such a purpose, 
 chafe as she might at the delay. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond also chafed sorely at first ; but by de- 
 grees the apprehensions which were at the bottom of his 
 uneasiness subsided, and his knack of making the best 
 of everything came into play. He was in comfortable 
 quarters. Montacute went to bed every night directly 
 after dinner, but during the time that they were together 
 Mr. Jellybond found him excellent company, and was 
 beguiled into talking to him as to another man of the 
 world. Left alone after dinner, with Montacute up- 
 stairs safe in bed, Mr. Jellybond Tinney adorned him- 
 self with an Inverness cloak and sallied forth jauntily 
 with his opera-hat under his arm. Obsequious hotel 
 lackeys ran down the steps to call up a hansom for him, 
 and he enjoyed their zealous service. His air was quite 
 " doggie "; one would have said a well-preserved elderly 
 
 279
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 man rakishly bent on making the most, in an undesira- 
 ble manner, of such flashes of youthful feeling as still 
 remained to him. But night after night the hotel porter 
 who shut the doors of his hansom upon him received the 
 same order for the driver, " House of Commons," deliv- 
 ered with the casual air of a man who is following an 
 accustomed pursuit; and night after night was spent 
 by Mr. Jellybond Tinney, thanks to the influence of his 
 county friends, with distinguished strangers in the fore- 
 most row, studying Parliamentary procedure with the 
 intentness of a practical man who means business. 
 
 Meanwhile the weather had changed. The autumn 
 swept itself away. The equinoctial gales set in betimes, 
 the temperature went down, and the Inverness cloak, 
 which had been adopted as an ornament, became a ne- 
 cessity. 
 
 At last one day, on his return, shivering in the early 
 hours of the morning from an all-night sitting, Mr. Jel- 
 lybond Tinney noticed as he passed Montacute's room 
 that the door was open. The fact did not strike him 
 particularly until he began to undress, but then, all at 
 once, for no reason that he could have given, he was 
 seized upon by an importunate impulse to go and see 
 what ? He did not know, and before he could ask him- 
 self he was out in the passage 
 
 Montacute's door was certainly ajar. The stupid old 
 riddle recurred to him, but he found no suggestion in it. 
 He listened. There was no sound. Evidently Monta- 
 cute was not ill. He must either be awake or in a very 
 deep sleep. Mr. Jellybond Tinney thought he would 
 have a look at him just to make sure. Very softly he 
 pushed the door open. The gray dawn lighted the room. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney peeped round the curtain at the 
 bed. It was empty. Moreover, it had not been slept in 
 at all that night. Mr. Jellybond stood transfixed. 
 
 " Hullo !" said a cheery voice behind him. " Found 
 280
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 me out, eh ? Been given away for once ? Well, don't 
 look glum, old chap. It's all right. Boys will be boys, 
 you know at nineteen. 1 say, get me some soda-water 
 I'm parched." 
 
 * You young scamp !"Mr. Jellybond exclaimed. " And 
 I'm responsible for you ! You'll come back with me to- 
 day, or my name's not Tinney." 
 
 " Well, it's about time," said Montacute, yawning ef- 
 fusively. " I'm pretty well done. Just give me a few 
 hours' sleep and the soda-water an' ye love me. 1 say " 
 confidentially " you'd better have taken my advice 
 and shown me the ropes. It would have been safer. But, 
 anyhow, I've had a rattling good time." He turned his 
 trousers pockets inside out. " Stony broke, and in debt," 
 he pursued. " You'll have to settle the bill and pay for 
 the carriage of me home." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney waited impatiently until the 
 telegraph offices were open, and then, in his haste to be 
 rid of the responsibility, he telegraphed to Dane Court 
 for a carriage to meet them on the arrival of the express 
 that evening. 
 
 Montacute, looking like a dissipated ghost in a riotous 
 mood, appeared in time for a late breakfast. He enter- 
 tained Mr. Jellybond Tinney with a shameless account 
 of his adventures. 
 
 " You've been trying to kill yourself, it seems," that 
 gentleman said, grimly. 
 
 " Not a bit of it done me good," Montacute rejoined ; 
 "and, at any rate, nobody could blame you if 1 had killed 
 myself. 1 don't suppose you would be expected to tuck 
 me up in bed every night and lock the door." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond had had the same thought in his own 
 mind all the morning, and the expression of it carried 
 conviction home. 
 
 "A few more hours and you'll be off my hands," he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 281
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Thank goodness, eh ?" said Montacute, with an un- 
 canny grin. " Now be sociable." 
 
 * You're becoming very like your sister," Mr. Jelly- 
 bond said. 
 
 " Babs ? Yes, 1 see it myself. When my spirits are 
 up I'm like Babs in character, or at least 1 should be, 
 very, if 1 had her vitality." 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 " Oh, you'll gain in vitality as you go on," Mr. Jelly- 
 bond hastened to assure him ; " but no more of this " 
 and he waved his hand significantly towards the great, 
 wicked city. 
 
 They had the Pullman car to themselves on the way 
 down, and as they dashed along, express, Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney found his equanimity restored. Montacute told 
 him a story which was quite unfit for publication, and 
 that drew from him another and another, with some wit- 
 ticisms interspersed ; and having once started they kept 
 the ball rolling between them until the train itself seemed 
 to rock with ribald mirth. 
 
 But Mr. Jellybond Tinney pulled himself up at last, in 
 view of his companion's youth, and pointed a tardy moral 
 by asserting that all that sort of thing was truly objec- 
 tionable, although undeniably funny. 
 
 " We can't always be on our best behavior, 1 allow," 
 he said ; " and it is not our occasional lapses, but our 
 habitual indulgences, that brand us. But you take it 
 from me, my boy, for 1 know what 1 am talking about. 
 I've seen many a boy of property and promise like you 
 come to grief, more's the pity, after just such a start as 
 you've been making. Enjoy as you go along, but go 
 gently. Enjoy in moderation, if you would enjoy thor- 
 oughly ; and don't you be such a fool as to believe it, 
 no matter who will have it so immoral pleasures are 
 not the finest form of entertainment by any means." 
 
 They pulled up at the station. A bitter wind swept 
 
 282
 
 the platform. The rain was falling in torrents. Mr. 
 Jellybond huddled Montacute into his top-coat. 
 
 " Quick to the carriage," he said. 
 
 They dashed out. There was no carriage there. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, in his haste, had put nothing 
 but " Danehurst " on his telegram, and it had gone to 
 every other Danehurst in the country before it reached 
 the right one. 
 
 There was no cab either, or vehicle of any kind, and 
 the rain was descending in torrents and the wind blow- 
 ing icy cold. 
 
 " Here's a jolly deluge," said Montacute, rolling up 
 his trousers. 
 
 " What are you doing ?" said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, 
 sharply. 
 
 " I'm just going to dash across to ' The Flag of My 
 Country ' and see if they can fish us out any sort of a 
 trap." 
 
 " We'd better stay and sleep there," Mr. Jellybond ad- 
 vised. 
 
 " Not me," said Montacute. " 1 mean to be tucked 
 up in my own little bed to-night by my mammy." 
 
 " But a seventeen-mile drive in a shandrydan in such 
 a storm's enough to kill the pair of us." 
 
 " Rot !" said Montacute. 
 
 " You wait here, at all events, and let me go and see 
 about the trap." 
 
 But Montacute dashed out into the rain unheeding, 
 and there was nothing for it but to follow him ; which 
 Mr. Jellybond did, shivering with horrible misgivings. 
 
 283
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 WHEN we expect something disastrous we gen- 
 erally keep in reserve the hope that it will not 
 happen because we expect it, thereby prov- 
 ing our faith in the fallacy that it is always 
 the unexpected that happens. This is what Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney did during the first few feverish days after 
 Montacute's return. He tried to flatter himself that it 
 was not the expected which would happen because it 
 was expected, and that therefore the law of the unex- 
 pected must intervene. He did not perceive that as 
 soon as the unexpected is expected it ceases to be un- 
 expected. 
 
 On his arrival at Dane Court Montacute had prompt- 
 ly taken to his bed, and had remained there ; and, al- 
 though he was only said to be suffering from a chill, 
 everybody was anxious except his mother. 
 
 " Cute always has a chill at this time of the year," she 
 observed, complacently. She seemed to think that there 
 was safety in the punctual recurrence of the evil. " This 
 is rather a worse one than usual, but he'll get over it all 
 right," she added, comfortably. "And probably it will 
 do him good. When people have rather a bad illness, 
 people who have been ailing, it clears off a whole lot of 
 small evils in its train. The doctor attends to them then. 
 He won't take the trouble when there's nothing much 
 the matter." 
 
 These fluent platitudes were addressed to Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney. They were in her sitting-room alone to- 
 
 284
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 gether, the doctor having just left them after the second 
 visit to Montacute that day, and Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 was looking exceedingly grave. To see the two to- 
 gether one would have supposed that he was the anx- 
 ious parent and Mrs. Kingconstance his friendly con- 
 soler. 
 
 " You can't think that anything's going to happen to 
 him/' she went on, " after all the trouble of getting him 
 home, and this delightful change in the weather, too ? 
 Why, 1 dressed with all my windows open this morning, 
 it was so fine." 
 
 " You could not have had your windows open the night 
 of our arrival," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, gloomily. 
 " 1 cannot help blaming myself, and yet 1 don't know 
 how 1 could have helped it, unless 1 had put him in irons. 
 That boy's the very " devil he had been going to say, 
 but he checked himself in time, and concluded, lamely 
 " is very difficult to manage." 
 
 " My children all have a very great deal of character," 
 said Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond, who had been walking up and down 
 the room, stopped short. 
 
 " 1 suppose you will send for Babs," he said. 
 
 " Oh no ! Why should 1 ?" Mrs. Kingconstance 
 asked. " All the way from Paris just think ! And 
 she is doing so well there. Babs has never been so 
 satisfactory in her life. You surely would not ad- 
 vise me to send for her now. It would only unsettle 
 her." 
 
 " 1 should," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, emphatically. 
 
 " But why ?" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney walked up and down again. 
 What should he say ? How could he tell a mother that 
 she had better send for her daughter because her son was 
 going to die ? And would it not be just as bad to sug- 
 gest that if anything happened to Montacute and Babs 
 
 285
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 were not sent for in time she would never forgive her 
 mother ? 
 
 " Why ?" Mrs. Kingconstance repeated. 
 
 " It would be better, 1 think," he answered, with much 
 hesitation. " If Montacute has a serious illness and 
 Babs is not sent for she will er not be pleased." 
 
 " Really, my good friend," said Mrs. Kingconstance, 
 " is that a reason ? Babs will not be pleased, indeed ! 
 Why, didn't you yourself persuade me to send Babs to 
 school to cure her of thinking of nothing but her own 
 pleasure ? If she comes home now she will encourage 
 Montacute to do everything that he ought not to do, and 
 we shall have no end of trouble " 
 
 She stopped short with her mouth still open, as in the 
 act of speaking, and stared in astonishment at Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney. For he, victim of the force of habit, catch- 
 ing a glimpse of himself in the long mirror on the wall 
 at the end of the room, lost consciousness of his sur- 
 roundings, checked himself in his anxious promenade, 
 went up to the mirror and began to dance, his counte- 
 nance grimly set the while, and danced till his coat- 
 tails flew as was his wont on grave occasions when 
 alone. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance's astonishment changed to alarm. 
 She sat staring at him, horribly fascinated, unable to 
 speak or move. 
 
 Becoming suddenly aware of what he was doing, he 
 pulled himself up, stood a moment facing himself with 
 eyes of reproach in the mirror, and then slowly turned 
 to her. 
 
 Both were overcome he with the sense of having lost 
 his dignity irretrievably, she with the fear that he had 
 gone mad. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was the first to recover. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Jellybond Tinney!" she exclaimed ; "may 
 1 ask for an explanation?" 
 
 286
 
 SHE SAT STARING AT HIM, HORRIBLY FASCINATED
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He took out his pocket-handkerchief and mopped his 
 forehead. 
 
 " It is a way 1 have/' he said, simply. " When in doubt 1 
 dance ; when in a difficulty 1 tell the truth. 1 apologize." 
 
 " There is no need to apologize/' said Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance, falling back upon convention. " But 1 was cer- 
 tainly surprised. 1 didn't know you could dance. Will 
 you er do it again?" 
 
 " 1 couldn't, to save my life !" he said, sincerely. 
 
 Great drops of perspiration came out on his forehead 
 at the bare suggestion. It was bad enough to have 
 made a fool of himself involuntarily ; was it likely that 
 he would commit himself again to order ? 
 
 In the evening, when the doctor came to see Montacute 
 for the third time that day, feeling began to run high in 
 the servants' hall, and comments were made unrestrain- 
 edly. A sense of something tragic impending had seized 
 upon the household ; and the half-light of ignorance by 
 which the drama was viewed from down-stairs cast curi- 
 ous distortions upon the actors and their motives. The 
 upper servants sat long at table that evening. Little was 
 being said ; but it was evident from the expression of 
 each face that the minds of all were occupied with a 
 subject of uncommon gravity. 
 
 Benson, the butler, was the most moved, apparently, 
 as was natural, considering that he had seen the children 
 grow up from their cradles and understood their dis- 
 positions better than their own mother did. Mrs. King- 
 constance valued Benson extremely as an ornament to 
 her establishment. The prejudices of the county fami- 
 lies had acted upon his mind and reacted on his appear- 
 ance so emphatically that he might easily have passed 
 for a county gentleman himself until he spoke. But 
 he deserved her esteem on higher grounds than those, 
 he being entirely devoted to her interests. 
 
 287
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He sat now balancing a large dinner- knife, which, 
 being loose in its haft, emitted a sharp " ping !" every 
 time he allowed it to touch the table; and this sound 
 was the signal for him to shake his head solemnly. 
 
 " 1 sawr 'e 'ad that cold on 'im as soon as ever 'e got 
 'ere," he remarked, at last ; " and it's my opinion that 
 that there Jellybond Tinney's as much to blame fur 
 bringin' of 'im back as 'e were fur gettin' on 'im sent 
 away. That's my opinion. You can accept it or not, as 
 you choose, ladies and gentlemen." 
 
 They accepted it, one and all, with various signs of 
 approval. 
 
 " You've 'it the right nail on the 'ead this time, Mr. 
 Benson," Clodd observed. 
 
 Clodd had worked himself into the house as second 
 footman without Mr. Jellybond's assistance, and the 
 civilizing influence of domestication was already appar- 
 ent in his manners, and had also had a humanizing ef- 
 fect upon his countenance. His wide mouth had been 
 contracted by increased decision of character and self- 
 respect, so that his eyes looked larger and his nose more 
 prominent ; in expression, too, his face was greatly im- 
 proved, cunning having given place to intelligence. The 
 indirect cause of the improvement, for he received no 
 encouragement, was Bertha, the young lady's-maid. 
 Clodd had fallen in love with Bertha. His devotion was 
 of the chivalrous, respectful kind which impels men to 
 become worthy of the object of their admiration the 
 kind that women most appreciate when they understand 
 it. The constant effort to understand Bertha, to feel in 
 himself what he saw in her that absence of evil thought, 
 or of anything worse in her mind than fun and mischief, 
 which made her so good to look upon had been a pol- 
 ishing process to Clodd. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, being in ill odor with the ser- 
 vants down-stairs just then, by reason of a suspicion of 
 
 288
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 his design to become master of the house which had re- 
 cently got about, was naturally blamed for everything 
 untoward that happened. Bertha was particularly hard 
 on him. She was sore because the special attentions 
 with which he had flattered her vanity in the early days 
 of their acquaintance had ceased when he became seri- 
 ous in his designs upon Mrs. Kingconstance. He was 
 too wary a gentleman to trouble himself about smaller 
 fry by the way when it was big game that he was after. 
 
 It was Bertha who next broke the silence. 
 
 " I'm sure it's that Jellybond Tinney's doings that 
 Miss Lorraine's not been sent for," she burst out. " I 
 believe she's never been told he was ill even and he's 
 dying to see her, and always asking when she'll be here. 
 Oh, it's a shame ! I've a good mind to write and tell 
 her my self !" 
 
 " Yes, it's all that Jellybond, you may be sure," Ben- 
 son agreed, with a smack of disgust, like a man who has 
 swallowed a fly inadvertently. 
 
 Clodd shook his head and pursed up his mouth. 
 
 " I'd like to see him kicked," Bertha declared, slapping 
 the palm of one hand with the other vehemently. 
 
 " Sooner or later," Clodd said, impressively, " that 
 man will be cir-cum-wented by I know who, you bet." 
 T 289
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE outcome of the colloquy among the servants 
 was an alarming letter from Bertha to Babs. 
 When she received it Babs was idling in the 
 salon, whither she had been sent to practise 
 her singing-lesson. She had a lovely voice, and one of 
 the best singing-masters of Paris was directing its cul- 
 tivation. The school experiment had answered admi- 
 rably for Babs, thanks to the good lady with whom she 
 was placed. Provided you kept her amused, Babs was 
 teachable ; but instruction had to be administered to 
 her on the kindergarten system, with toys and games 
 and songs and dances. It was by object-lessons that 
 she profited most. Still, in the two years that she had 
 been in Paris she had learned much and improved in 
 many ways. Of the world she knew no more than a 
 babe. That was not her fault, however, but the defect 
 of her education. She would easily have acquired wis- 
 dom and self-reliance in all those matters in which wis- 
 dom and self-reliance alone are of avail had not all the 
 necessary information been scrupulously withheld from 
 her.' At seventeen Babs was armed, as most young 
 ladies are, with scraps of every sort of knowledge ex- 
 cept that knowledge of herself which would have been 
 most precious to her in a world of wolves in sheep's 
 clothing. Of her own nature, and of the dangers to 
 which she was exposed by reason of her natural instincts, 
 Babs knew nothing and suspected nothing. 
 
 She happened to be thinking of Montacute when Ber- 
 
 290
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 tha's letter was brought to her. She had heard from 
 her mother during the week ; but Mrs. Kingconstance 
 had merely mentioned casually that Cute was out of 
 sorts and had come home for a week ; and Babs had 
 thought less of his being " out of sorts " than of the fact 
 that he was at home and she was not there to enjoy the 
 occasion. The news that he was seriously ill served to 
 change her vague desire into a positive determination. 
 She went to Madame Robert with Bertha's letter in her 
 hand, and said she must go home at once. Madame 
 Robert replied that that was impossible ; she could not 
 act upon information received from a servant ; if her 
 presence at home were necessary, doubtless she would 
 be sent for, and in any case she could not travel alone. 
 
 Babs had been inclined to argue the point, but that 
 last assertion suggested an idea which it would have 
 been futile to discuss. She therefore said not another 
 word, but went back to her singing with the air of one 
 convinced. 
 
 " How docile that child has become," Madame Robert 
 remarked to mademoiselle, her second in command. 
 " Really, she is very much improved." 
 
 " Thanks to you, dear madame, she has become a 
 very sweet creature," mademoiselle rejoined. 
 
 She ought to have been superintending Babs's sing- 
 ing-lesson in the salon, but forgot her duty in the inter- 
 est of this little discussion, and went off afterwards to see 
 about something else. So it happened that Babs found 
 herself alone for once with her music master, and made 
 the most of the opportunity. 
 
 Monsieur Bonane, known to the girls among them- 
 selves as Alphonse, was a youngish man whose meals 
 were so amply blessed to him that it was impossible to 
 look at him, even casually, without being struck by the 
 fact that he was extremely well nourished. 
 
 He was as sentimental as a schoolgirl and as sensual 
 
 291
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 as a monkey. He prided himself upon being unable to 
 refuse a pretty woman anything ; his courtesies to the 
 plain are not recorded. His coarse black hair stood up 
 stiffly all over his bullet head like the bristles on a black- 
 ing-brush, and his mustache was crisply frizzled and 
 flattened out overnight against each cheek by means 
 of a little machine made for the purpose. He prided 
 himself upon dressing like an Englishman, and had 
 appeared on that occasion in a morning suit of pale gray, 
 with a white silk tie, and a pelargonium in his button- 
 hole. Two fingers and a thumb of his short, fat, pudgy 
 right hand were stained brown at the tips from ciga- 
 rette smoking. Babs's particular aversion were his hands 
 and that horrid brown stain. There was an exagger- 
 ated and fawning deference in his manner to her which 
 would have suggested anything but respect to a more 
 experienced person ; and even Babs felt that upon the 
 very least encouragement he would have become famil- 
 iar. He was making a large income by training sing- 
 ers for the stage. To find good voices to cultivate was 
 the great object of his life ; and his dream had always 
 been to discover a girl, gloriously gifted, who would 
 take the world by storm with his help, while he would 
 go about with her everywhere, dazzling the jealously 
 admiring eyes of all mankind, as her acknowledged 
 lover. In the charming English Miss Kingconstance 
 he had found the ideal of this dream ; but, alas ! because 
 of the presence of mademoiselle at the lessons he had 
 never once had an opportunity of telling her of the radi- 
 ant possibilities which were hers until that morning. 
 At first he did not realize that they were to be left alone 
 together, and when he did he was almost too nervous 
 to take advantage of the rare opportunity. But Babs 
 helped to restore his confidence. To her he was nothing 
 but a horrid little, fat, overdressed Frenchman, of no ac- 
 count at all except to teach her singing, or to be made 
 
 292
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 use of in any other way that might suit her convenience, 
 while being rigorously kept in his place. 
 
 " Mademoiselle is not attending to her lesson this 
 morning/' he said. 
 
 " No, I'm not. I'm bothered," said Babs. 
 
 " Oh, surely not !" he exclaimed. " One like you 
 should be shielded from all earthly trouble." 
 
 " That wouldn't be exactly strengthening to my char- 
 acter," said Babs, with a flash of common-sense ; " and, 
 at any rate, I shouldn't care to be a sugar- plum in a 
 bonbon box." 
 
 " Ah ! Mademoiselle a de I' esprit !" he ejaculated, with 
 a full-blown sigh. " She is gifted beyond the measure 
 of mortals." 
 
 * How ?" said Babs. 
 " That voice !" 
 
 He turned the palms of his hands outward and gazed 
 up at the ceiling. 
 
 " My voice is good, you think ?" 
 
 " It is magnificent ! You have only to appear to win 
 the applause of crowned heads." 
 
 " What ! use my voice to sing in public become a 
 professional ? How horrid !" said Babs. 
 
 He gazed at her in amazement. 
 
 " But, mademoiselle* consider," he exclaimed. " The 
 admiration ! the bouquets ! the diamonds ! the crowned 
 heads !" 
 
 " Oh, I shall have admiration and bouquets and dia- 
 monds enough without troubling myself," she answered, 
 casually. " Those are my birthrights. And as to the 
 crowned heads, will you kindly name one in Europe at 
 the present moment that is worth looking at ? If you 
 will, I should like to go and see it, for it must certainly 
 be the rarest thing upon earth." 
 
 Monsieur Bonane sat speechless. 
 
 * But fame glory !" he finally gasped, gazing up to 
 
 293
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 her from the piano-stool in positive awe of the wealth of 
 nature which could dispense with all that so many others 
 were imploring the gods on their bended knees day and 
 night to vouchsafe them. 
 
 " Look at me, my dear sir," said Babs, striking an at- 
 titude ; " and listen to me when I sing ! The world is 
 mine, I tell you, by right. I shall find it at my feet 
 when I want it there. Sing in public make an ex- 
 hibition, a servant of myself to that " she waved her 
 hands towards the people passing in the street "be 
 paid to amuse them, be fearful of their displeasure and 
 grateful for their applause do you call that glory ? I 
 don't." 
 
 " But you are magnificent !" he cried. " I could 
 adore you on my bended knees." 
 
 " Down on your bended knees, then, and adore me," 
 said Babs. 
 
 He took her at her word. She burst out laughing and 
 walked to the window, leaving him still on his knees by 
 the piano, a little, fat figure of fun. 
 
 When he had gathered himself up she sauntered back 
 to him. 
 
 " Look here, monsieur," she said, confidentially. " I 
 can see you are a man to be trusted. Will you do some- 
 thing for me ?" * 
 
 He had looked considerably crestfallen and foolish 
 upon the failure of that last little theatrical display ; 
 but now his countenance cleared. 
 
 " I am in a difficulty," Babs proceeded " a very com- 
 mon kind of difficulty. I want money." 
 
 " How much ?" he cried, tearing a bulging pocket- 
 book from the breast-pocket of his coat. 
 
 " The value of this little brooch would do," she replied, 
 taking off a pretty diamond ornament she wore "at 
 least I think so. What do you suppose it is worth two 
 hundred francs ?" 
 
 294
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He looked at it and laughed. 
 
 " Nearer two thousand, 1 should say, mademoiselle," 
 he assured her. 
 
 " 1 don't even want one thousand/' she rejoined. " 1 
 only just want to raise enough on it for my present pur- 
 pose ; and 1 shall want the brooch back when 1 repay 
 the money." 
 
 " Mademoiselle will allow me the honor of lending her 
 the money without any security, 1 hope," he said, open- 
 ing the pocket-book and holding it out to her. " She 
 can pay the debt when it suits her convenience." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Babs, " but 1 would rather 
 you took the brooch by way of security, lest anything 
 should happen to me in the meantime." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, 1 could not," he protested. " If ma- 
 demoiselle w r ould give me some other little thing a 
 trifle to serve as keepsake " 
 
 A footstep was heard outside in the hall. 
 
 Babs hastily tore off a little ring she wore and put it 
 in his hand. As hastily he abstracted a note from his 
 pocket-book, folded it, gave it to her then hopped onto 
 the music-stool. 
 
 The door opened the much-flustered second in com- 
 mand came hurrying in. 
 
 " You must dwell on that note fortissimo," Monsieur 
 Bonane was saying, excitedly. 
 
 He jumped up to make his bow to mademoiselle,flopped 
 down again, and continued. 
 
 Babs took the note with precision and held it true, 
 fastening her brooch at the same time, then putting what 
 might have been her handkerchief into her pocket, in 
 the casual way habitual to her. 
 
 The second in command sat down with a sigh of re- 
 lief, inwardly congratulating herself on the supposition 
 that at all events no harm had been done by her untimely 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 295
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 NEXT morning the boat express was just about 
 to leave the Gare du Nord. All the bustle was 
 over, the last of the luggage was being put in, 
 the passengers had taken their seats and were 
 settling themselves for the journey. One gentleman 
 in particular was congratulating himself upon having 
 secured an empty carriage. He had arranged his nu- 
 merous packages, put on his travelling-cap, and was 
 opening his newspaper when the signal was given for 
 the train to start. 
 
 But just at that moment there arose a hubbub on the 
 platform shouts then a sound like the rush of wings. 
 The solitary passenger listened without looking up. 
 The train was moving, but the door was torn open, a 
 bag was thrown into the carriage, and Babs tumbled 
 in after it headlong with much sith of invisible silk. An 
 official banged to the door and they were off. 
 
 Babs leaned forward anxiously until the train had 
 glided out of the station. Then she threw herself back 
 on her seat. 
 
 " That's all right !" she exclaimed. 
 
 Looking round, she met the eyes of her fellow-traveller 
 fixed upon her with an amused expression. 
 
 " Did I speak ?" she asked. 
 
 " You did," he answered. 
 
 " How stupid of me ! But I meant it. Thank good- 
 ness, I'm off ! There's nothing to be afraid of now." 
 
 " You're not afraid of me, then ?" he asked, tentatively. 
 
 296
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Babs looked at him with wide-open, innocent eyes 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " You're not my natural enemy, are you ?" she asked. 
 " But if you are, at any rate you're the only one." 
 
 " My dear child," he said, gravely, " you ought to 
 know that, under the circumstances, in the multitude 
 of enemies there is safety." 
 
 Babs reflected a moment. 
 
 " That's too subtle for me," she said. " I don't see it." 
 
 " Then all the more reason that you should not be 
 travelling alone with no one to look after you." 
 
 " You can look after me if you like," said Babs, smil- 
 ing irresistibly. " 1 like your face ; I'm sure you're 
 nice." 
 
 " Thank you," he said, responding to the smile. 
 
 He was a good-looking man of a refined type, tall and 
 slight, verging on forty-five, with a sprinkling of gray 
 in his hair, and a slight, dark mustache. Everything 
 about him hands, feet, and features, the way he was 
 dressed, and the cultivated tone of his voice bespoke 
 gentlehood. One would have said an Englishman of 
 the best sort. His voice was particularly agreeable. 
 When he smiled there was a gleam of good teeth, and 
 his face, which, in repose, was somewhat melancholy, 
 broke into happy lines. 
 
 " You don't look upon every strange man you meet 
 as a natural enemy, then ?" he said 
 
 " No," she answered, " why should I ? I should be 
 more inclined to look upon every man I meet as a natu- 
 ral protector, I think unless, of course, his appearance 
 was very forbidding." 
 
 " But supposing you had jumped into the carriage 
 with a very forbidding man or even with one who was 
 inclined to be familiar what would you have done ?" 
 
 " Oh, I should have turned my back on him and looked 
 out of the window." 
 
 297
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " But supposing he had persisted ?" 
 
 * I should have requested him not to." 
 
 " But if he had put his arm around you ?" 
 
 * He would never have dared to do that !" said Babs, 
 flushing angrily. " How can you suggest such a thing?" 
 
 " Because there is an extreme probability of such a 
 thing happening under the circumstances ; and I tell 
 you so frankly, to make you realize the risk you are 
 running. You ought not to be travelling alone." 
 
 " But if I have no one to travel with ?" she said, begin- 
 ning to put on a new pair of gloves. 
 
 He had noticed the costly simplicity of everything she 
 wore, the rustle of unseen silk when she moved, the 
 scented leather of her dressing-bag ; and these things, 
 with her manner, which was a compound of childish 
 diffidence and easy assurance, the manner of a young 
 girl ignorant of the world and accustomed to be consid- 
 ered, easily enabled him to place her. 
 
 " I cannot think that you have no one to travel with," 
 he said. 
 
 " Bother !" said Babs, letting a handful of money fall 
 on her lap in her struggles with her gloves. " Alphonse 
 must have lent me a king's ransom. Just look at the 
 change ! I wonder how much he gave me ? I never 
 looked at the note. How am I to tell ? I shall have to 
 return it to him." 
 
 " If you count the change, and add the railway fare, 
 you'll arrive at the amount," her companion suggested. 
 
 " I don't know how to count change ; would you mind 
 doing it for me ?" said Babs, handing him the money. 
 " I shouldn't like to owe that little beast a sou." 
 
 " Who is the little beast, may I ask ?" 
 
 " Oh, my singing-master. I had no money for the 
 journey, so I got him to lend me some." 
 
 Her companion finished counting the money before he 
 replied. 
 
 298
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Your music-master lent you a thousand francs/' he 
 said, looking very grave. 
 
 " How ridiculous !" Babs exclaimed. " I only just 
 wanted enough for the journey." 
 
 " You must be on very good terms with your singing- 
 master." 
 
 " Oh yes, of course," said Babs. " He gives me three 
 lessons a week. I never spoke to him before, though, 
 about anything but music. I never had a chance until 
 yesterday I never wanted to, either. But yesterday 
 mademoiselle, who ought always to be in the room when 
 I'm taking my lesson, forgot to come. Then it occurred 
 to me that I might get the money for the journey out of 
 Alphonse." 
 
 " Then you are running away from school ?" 
 
 " Not exactly," said Babs. " I am just going home 
 without leave to see how my brother is my only brother. 
 I heard he was seriously ill, and they wouldn't let me go. 
 We're great chums, Cute and I, and he's very delicate. 
 What would you have done if you were me?" 
 
 There was pathetic inquiry in her eyes as she looked 
 at him, and he thought to himself, * What an angelic 
 face !" 
 
 " It is hard for me to say, not knowing all the cir- 
 cumstances," he answered, gently. 
 
 " I don't know how it is," said Babs, looking at him 
 earnestly. " I've just met you I ought not to care 
 and yet I don't want you to blame me. You have been 
 blaming me, I feel, ever since I tumbled into your car- 
 riage. Is it because you would rather be alone ?" 
 
 * No," he hastened to assure her. "And I am not 
 blaming you. I am only trying to make you under- 
 stand that you are doing a dangerous thing. I blame 
 your friends for not enlightening you. If you had had 
 any idea of the risk I feel sure that you would not have 
 run it. It is monstrous that a girl of your age should 
 
 299
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 be left to face the dangers of such a position with the 
 ignorant confidence of a child." 
 
 Babs looked at him vaguely, not at all understand- 
 ing ; but she scented something unpleasant, and sought 
 instinctively to change the subject. 
 
 " Well, I'm not likely to have to run away again," she 
 said ; " but if I do " she broke into a smile " I'll get 
 you to run away with me. Now let us talk about some- 
 thing pleasant. I do love to talk. There is nothing so 
 delightful as conversation, is there ? Do I bore you with 
 my chatter ? But even if I do, bear with me, because it 
 won't be for long. We shall part presently and never 
 meet again." 
 
 " Why should we never meet again ?" 
 
 " Oh, people who meet like this never do, do they ? 1 
 don't know who you are, and you don't know who I am, 
 and we never shall know." 
 
 The train began to slow down. 
 
 "This is Amiens, I think," he said. "We shall 
 have twenty minutes here. You must come to the 
 buffet." 
 
 " No, thank you," said Babs. 
 
 " I'm very sorry," he insisted ; " but you must un- 
 less you mean to condemn me to go without breakfast. 
 I cannot let you out of my sight until I deliver you safely 
 into the custody of your friends." 
 
 " Now that's the sort of thing I like," said Babs, beam- 
 ing. " I like a man to take the ordering of me the 
 good ordering, of course. Do you know what I mean ? 
 I like a man who knows what to do himself, knows the 
 right thing, and knows what I ought to do, and just 
 tells me to do it. But I'm afraid if you carry out your 
 determination to see me safe home it will take you a 
 good deal out of your way. It's just the kind of thing 
 Cadenhouse would have done." 
 
 " Cadenhouse ?" her companion echoed. 
 
 300
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Yes Lord Cadenhouse. Do you know him ?" said 
 Babs. 
 
 " Well 1 We were near neighbors as boys, and went 
 to the same school." 
 
 "Are you Jeffrey Wylde ?" Babs exclaimed. 
 
 * No." 
 
 " Who then ?" she wondered, her thoughts running 
 rapidly over every likely absentee in the neighborhood. 
 " Mrs. Normanton has a brother abroad Sir Owen St. 
 Lambert." 
 
 "At your service," said her companion, bowing. 
 
 " How exciting !" said Babs. " You must often have 
 been at my house Dane Court." 
 
 " You are one of the Kingconstances, then," he said. 
 
 " Yes Lorraine." 
 
 " No, surely. Lorraine is much older." 
 
 " Oh, I'm the niece, not the aunt ; I'm Babs." 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " I know you quite well by name," he said. * I think 
 I must have seen you the last time I was at Normanton, 
 some years ago now at all events, I heard of you. So 
 you are still living up to your early reputation, Babs," 
 he admonished her. " You must really reform." 
 
 " With your good help," she said. "Are you coming 
 to Normanton now ?" 
 
 * Yes." 
 
 " It seems to be quite in the natural order of events 
 that you should befriend me," she said. " We haven't 
 stopped, it seems." 
 
 " No, but we can't be far from Amiens, and the first 
 thing to be done when we get there is to telegraph to 
 your friends, to relieve their minds." 
 
 " ' On my way home. Quite safe. Travelling with 
 General St. Lambert. BABS,' " she rattled off, glibly. 
 
 " Or words to that effect," he said, smiling. " You 
 will have a bad half-hour when you arrive, I expect." 
 
 301
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Babs fixed her eyes on futurity and looked grave for 
 a moment ; then she laughed. 
 
 * You must come and see/' she said " indeed you 
 must. I won't go home alone. Come and see me take 
 the dilemma by the horns. Do you know my mother ?" 
 
 " Yes. We met frequently in days gone by." 
 
 * Then you can imagine what the scene will be." 
 
 " On the contrary/' he answered,!" I am quite at a loss." 
 
 Babs grinned. 
 
 The rest of the journey passed without incident ; but 
 the recollection of it remained with Babs, a tender, hap- 
 py .memory always. She just resigned herself to her 
 companion's guiding, and let him make things pleasant 
 for her. She was conscious of his eyes often upon her ; 
 she appreciated his constant, unobtrusive, delicate at- 
 tentions ; she found herself at her best with him ; she 
 felt herself very much in love. The people we love 
 soonest are always those with whom we find ourselves 
 at our best. 
 
 When they arrived at Dane Court, General St. Lam- 
 bert was much the more nervous of the two. For one 
 thing, knowing the dangers of such an escapade, he 
 took a much more serious view of it than Babs did. 
 
 Since the first telegram had arrived from Paris an- 
 nouncing the disappearance of Babs, and the second 
 from St. Lambert assuring her mother of her safety, 
 Mrs. Kingconstance had worked herself into what was, 
 for her, quite a fury. Her sister-in-law, Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney, and Mr. Worringham had done their best to 
 soothe her ; but for once she was thoroughly deter- 
 mined to deal severely with Babs for her misconduct, 
 and in order to keep herself in that mood she refused 
 sweetbread for luncheon, and would not hear of p&te-de- 
 foie-gras sandwiches for tea. This self-denial was of lit- 
 tle avail, however, owing to Babs's habit of taking the 
 initiative herself in times of trouble. 
 
 302
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She burst in upon the party at Dane Court, attended 
 by a distinguished-looking gentleman, just when she 
 was least expected. , 
 
 " Well, mamma I" she exclaimed " well, mamma, this 
 is a nice way to treat me ! My only brother seriously 
 ill, and there was I left in Paris without a word ! Why, 
 I actually had to borrow money from my singing-master 
 from a wretched little French worm with a blacking- 
 brush head to bring me home ! That was a nice thing 
 for a Miss Kingconstance to have to do ! And I should 
 have had to travel the whole way alone if it had not 
 been for Sir Owen St. Lambert an utter stranger. But 
 really it seems that a stranger one picks up on a railway 
 journey is kinder and more considerate than one's own 
 family." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was dumfounded. She held out 
 her hand to St. Lambert, but for a moment she could not 
 speak. 
 
 " I don't know what to say !" she exclaimed, at last, 
 looking helplessly round at her little court. 
 
 " I should say all's well that ends well/' Sir Owen vent- 
 ured. 
 
 " But is this the end ?" Mrs. Kingconstance lamented. 
 " There seems to be no end with Babs. She's always 
 doing something." 
 
 " Well, mamma, I ask you," said Babs, " what would 
 you have done in my position if your mother had treated 
 you so badly ? I bet you would have run away too. 
 I had to run away ; there was nothing else to be done. 
 It was the lesser of two evils. If I had stayed there eat- 
 ing my heart out with anxiety I should have had con- 
 sumption or brain fever, or something. Heroines al- 
 ways do if they don't run away." 
 
 " Whose heroine are you ?" her aunt asked, smiling. 
 
 " I'm my own heroine, of course. How are you, 
 auntie ?" 
 
 303
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Babs went up to her and kissed her, then shook hands 
 with both the vicar and Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 " Come now, I ask you all," she said, " is there any 
 use prolonging this scene ? The long and the short of 
 it is, mamma did not send for me as she ought to have 
 done, so I had to come here as best I could ; and here I 
 am, safe and sound, thanks to Sir Owen St. Lambert." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm very grateful to Sir Owen," said Mrs. 
 Kingconstance. " Will you stay for dinner ?" she add- 
 ed, rewarding him involuntarily with the offer of the 
 thing she liked best in the world herself. But Sir 
 Owen was expected at Normanton. 
 
 " Then come to-morrow," said Babs, clasping his 
 hand. 
 
 He looked down into her face for a moment intently. 
 Miss Kingconstance observed the look. 
 
 " Did Sir Owen say he would come to dinner to-mor- 
 row ?" Mrs. Kingconstance asked, when he was gone. 
 
 " No, he didn't say ; but he will come, I assure you/' 
 her sister-in-law answered, dryly. 
 
 304
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 BABS rushed up to Montacute's room. He was 
 lying back on a large pillow with his eyes shut. 
 A nurse was sitting in the window, quietly sew- 
 ing. Babs stood gazing at her brother. He 
 looked like death. 
 
 Presently he moaned and muttered a little, then opened 
 his eyes and looked at her vaguely. 
 
 " Cute !" she cried. 
 
 The nurse rose and came to the bedside. 
 
 " I'm afraid he won't know you," she said. " He's 
 been wandering all day." 
 
 " He's really very ill, then ?" said Babs, her eyes star- 
 ing in horror. She had not at all realized that there 
 might be danger. Like her mother, she was too accus- 
 tomed to Montacute's periodical seizures to be easily 
 alarmed about him. She had been prepared to sympa- 
 thize, not to be frightened. 
 
 " Yes," said the nurse, with professional cheeriness, 
 " he is ill. I've seen them worse, though." 
 
 Babs stooped to kiss him. He stared at her strangely, 
 then turned his head impatiently away. 
 
 " Better not disturb him," said the nurse. 
 
 Babs sank into a chair beside the bed, and sat gazing 
 at the patient in an agony of apprehension. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney came noiselessly into the room 
 and stood beside her, looking utterly dejected. He had 
 made up his mind that his own luck depended somehow 
 upon that boy's life, and he was far from hopeful, 
 u 305
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Will he die ?" said Babs. 
 
 * God forbid !" Mr. Jelly bond answered, fervently. 
 
 Babs sat some time ; she even thought she would stay 
 all night ; but Montacute's feverish mutterings got on 
 her nerves, and at last she could stand it no longer and 
 took refuge in her own room. Hers was not the stuff 
 that night-nurses are made of. With all the strength 
 of her pleasure-loving temperament she resented the 
 pain of the position, the anxiety, all the suffering it in- 
 flicted upon herself to see him so. 
 
 Being worn out with the journey and the many emo- 
 tions of the day, she went to bed as soon as she had had 
 something to eat, and slept soundly for some time ; then 
 awoke with a start, and was immediately conscious of a 
 terrible sense of misery. It was the most distressing 
 sensation she had ever had, and she was ready on the 
 instant to do anything desperate to relieve it. She 
 jumped up. To whom could she go for comfort ? Was 
 there any way to ease this pain ? 
 
 For answer, as it seemed, there flashed into the room 
 from across the valley the light on the tower. 
 
 " Cadenhouse !" she cried, stretching out her arms to 
 him. 
 
 She uttered the name as if it were an incantation, and 
 as she uttered it the strong feeling she had always had 
 for Cadenhouse revived, and her new knight vanished 
 from her recollection. 
 
 Having dressed hurriedly in knickerbockers and a 
 short walking-skirt, she left her room ; but with no very 
 definite intention. 
 
 To her surprise she found the lights still burning 
 and people moving about in the house. Looking down 
 into the hall, she saw Benson and Clodd and the first 
 footman hanging about with the air of people who are 
 awaiting an event. She went on down to the sick-room. 
 The door was half open ; she heard Montacute still 
 
 306
 
 I MUST GET OUT INTO THE AIR; I'M SUFFOCATING'
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 moaning and muttering incoherently. Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney sat beside the bed. There was something pa- 
 thetically patient in his attitude. All his jauntiness 
 was laid aside ; he looked older and more worn in the 
 dim light than Babs had ever seen him look. The nurse 
 was bending over the patient. She straightened her- 
 self and stood as though in doubt. 
 
 " Shall we alarm his mother ?" Mr. Jellybond asked, 
 
 " The vicar is in the house, is he not ?" she answered, 
 indirectly. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 " It might be as well to have the prayers," she said. 
 
 * It can do no harm," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, ris- 
 ing, with the sense of relief which comes of finding some- 
 thing to do in the midst of a painful period of suspense 
 and inaction. " I will assemble the family." 
 
 As he left the room he encountered Babs. 
 
 " Is there no hope ?" she said, wringing her hands. 
 
 " Where there is life there is er " he began mechan- 
 ically ; but only the obvious came to him, and, even at 
 that moment, he could not be obvious, so he left the old 
 saw to speak for itself. 
 
 " You mustn't assemble me," Babs protested. " Don't 
 tell them I'm up. I couldn't stand the prayers. I must 
 get out into the air ; I'm suffocating." 
 
 She clutched at her chest as she spoke, as though to 
 tear out the pain, and fled, all her impulse being, not to 
 help others, but to do something for herself. 
 
 Babs, having no knowledge of life, was at the mercy 
 of her instincts ; and her instinct now was to fly to Ca- 
 denhouse. The light burned bright on the tower. There 
 was distraction in the excitement of getting there ; and 
 once there but she did not trouble herself to define. 
 
 Avoiding the servants by going down a back stair- 
 case, she let herself out by a window on the ground floor 
 and made for the stable-yard. There was a light in the 
 
 37
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 harness-room, and the door was open ; but nobody was 
 about. She seized saddle and bridle and whip, and 
 crossed to the far end of the yard, where the saddle- 
 horses were stabled. Here again a light was burning, 
 and the door was unfastened. One horse stood ready 
 saddled in its stall, another significant sign of some- 
 thing untoward impending. Her impulse to fly from 
 the dreadful event was redoubled by the sight. She 
 slipped her saddle on to Julia's little Arab, put on 
 the bridle in her haste without removing the halter, 
 mounted, and rode away. The horse might be missed, 
 of course, and so might she ; but what did that matter ? 
 Nobody was likely to trouble about anything in the way 
 of irregularities much at such a time ; and the fact that 
 she had on a walking-dress would be accepted as proof 
 that she had not gone out of the grounds. Mrs. King- 
 constance's own reverence for the conventions was so 
 deep that she did not readily suspect any one else of sin- 
 ning against them at all events, to the extent of riding 
 on the high-road in a walking-dress. 
 
 Cadenhouse was in the lower stage of the tower, in 
 the great apartment in which he spent so much of his 
 time. He had just stooped to adjust the wick of a lamp 
 that was flaring when Babs opened the door and walked 
 in. 
 
 She had no hat on, and looked like a dishevelled an- 
 gel, with her fair hair loose about her head, her cheeks 
 flushed by the night air and the excitement of the 
 ride, her sweet ej r es full of entreaty and pain. Caden- 
 house stood staring at her, too astonished at first to 
 speak. 
 
 " Oh, Cadenhouse, isn't it dreadful ?" she cried. " Do 
 help me ! I'm in great trouble Montacute, you know. 
 They think he's going to die. They're saying prayers 
 over him now. Be kind to me, Cadenhouse ; I'm dis- 
 tracted." 
 
 308
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Poor little girl I" said Cadenhouse, compassion com- 
 ing before every other consideration. 
 
 He went forward with outstretched hands to meet her. 
 Babs put her arms round his neck. 
 
 " Don't push me away," she said. " Don't be horrid 
 to me. I must have some human prop and stay. The 
 pain of it is awful. I can't even cry." 
 
 She laid her head on his shoulder with a dry sob. 
 
 " Poor little girl !" Cadenhouse repeated, putting his 
 arm round her and smoothing her hair caressingly. 
 
 He was a simple, earnest gentleman, a recluse by 
 habit rather than by nature, a man of high ideals, with- 
 out the slightest sense of humor. Babs's appeal was 
 the appeal of a child to him, of a child in trouble ; and 
 he responded to it now as he would have responded years 
 before. He had been taken completely by surprise, and 
 had had no time to reflect that Babs was a child no 
 longer. 
 
 The light caress soothed Babs. A sense of physical 
 well-being, of warmth and comfort, gradually began to 
 take possession of her. She heaved a little sigh of sat- 
 isfaction, and nestled closer. The present moment was 
 always sufficient for Babs ; had it been her last, she 
 would have lived it pleasantly if she could. 
 
 " Let us sit down," she said. " It does me good just 
 to be near you." 
 
 When she had spoken, she kissed his neck. The 
 touch of her warm lips sent a thrill through Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Why do you shudder ?" she said. "Are you cold ? 
 No, you're not cold. Your cheek is quite hot. You 
 might kiss me, I think." 
 
 She looked up at him, half smiling, half pouting. Ca- 
 denhouse bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. 
 
 " I'm glad I came," she said, softly. " I don't suffer 
 any more now. Do you know that's the first time you've 
 kissed me since I've been grown up ? You used to kiss 
 
 309
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 me always when I was quite a little child ; then you left 
 off, and ever since I've wanted to kiss you. I knew it 
 wouldn't be anything like kissing a woman, and it isn't. 
 You kiss a woman anywhere, and are glad to get it 
 over ; but I kiss you on the lips so and it's somehow 
 different, though I can't tell how." 
 
 The words brought Cadenhouse to his senses. He 
 put her away from him almost roughly. 
 
 " Babs, you shouldn't have done this," he said. " You 
 ought not to have come here ; you are no longer a 
 child." 
 
 " Oh, Cadenhouse, how horrid of you, when I'm so 
 miserable !" she exclaimed, wringing her hands. "And 
 just after being so kind, too, and helping me, and caress- 
 ing me. You trample on my love for you." 
 
 Cadenhouse walked up and down the room, perturbed. 
 Nature had meant him for a man, but his own idea had 
 been to thwart nature by playing the part of an angel 
 on earth. Chassez la nature, elle revient au galop. His 
 impulse was to take the girl to his heart again ; but he 
 was too much a man of honor for that, now that he was 
 on his guard. She must give him the right. 
 
 " Do you really love me, Babs ?" he said, returning to 
 her. " Will you marry me ?" 
 
 Babs hesitated. 
 
 " N no," she said. " If we were married it would be 
 so stupid like all the other married people. No, don't 
 ask me to marry you, and live in your house, and all 
 that. Let me love you like this, Cadenhouse." 
 
 She stretched out her arms to him, but he turned away 
 from her. 
 
 " Babs, you should not have kissed me if you were not 
 prepared to marry me," he began. 
 
 " Why not ?" she interrupted. " I shall always want 
 to kiss the people I care about. There was a man in the 
 train yesterday we travelled all the way from Paris 
 
 319
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 together and he looked after me and was so nice Mrs. 
 Normanton's brother, Sir Owen St. Lambert. Before 
 the journey was half over I loved him, too, almost as I 
 love you. I should have been quite glad if he had 
 kissed me." 
 
 " He didn't kiss you ?" Cadenhouse exclaimed, with a 
 jealous flash. 
 
 " No. I tell you I should have been glad if he had." 
 
 Cadenhouse threw himself into a chair and covered 
 his face with his hands. What could he say ? 
 
 * It isn't quite the same thing kissing a man as a 
 woman," he began again 
 
 " No, you don't seem to kiss in the same way," she an- 
 swered. " It's nicer, I think. You are the first man I 
 ever kissed. I loved it when you kissed me, Cadenhouse, 
 and I can't understand why you are so queer about it." 
 
 " Babs, you must know that it's not right to kiss men. " 
 
 " I know they say so, but they will never tell me why. 
 What harm is there in it ? And how can one choose a 
 husband until one knows which man one likes to kiss 
 best ?" 
 
 " What am I to say to you ?" Cadenhouse exclaimed, 
 in despair. " You said just now I was the first man you 
 had ever kissed " 
 
 " Yes," she interrupted ; * but you won't be the last, 
 you know. I'm sure I shall want to kiss Sir Owen the 
 next time I am alone with him." 
 
 Cadenhouse walked up and down the room again in 
 serious perplexity. It was evident to him that Babs's 
 innocence threatened to be her undoing ; but how was 
 he to make her understand why a girl of seventeen must 
 be circumspect in the matter of kissing ? 
 
 " If you would only consent to marry me !" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Do you love me, then, so very much ?" Babs an- 
 swered, with a twinkle in her eye. 
 
 3"
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Cadenhouse was silent. An hour ago the notion of 
 marrying Babs had never entered his head. He could 
 not say he loved her, and yet at that moment he was 
 fain enough to marry her ; and not fo chivalrous mo- 
 tives only, although he felt he owed her his name for the 
 momentary advantage he had taken of her. 
 
 " I don't think you love me," said Babs. 
 
 Cadenhouse stood before her, looking down at her. 
 She was sitting on a couch, her face upraised to his, the 
 delicate oval accentuated by the attitude, and the ex- 
 pression all animated by the excitement of the discus- 
 sion. 
 
 " On my word, I don't know whether I love you or 
 not," he said. " But I know that I ought not to have 
 kissed you under the circumstances, and I apologize." 
 
 " Oh, Cadenhouse !" Babs exclaimed, genuinely hurt, 
 " is that a nice thing to do ? You apologize because 
 you loved me for a moment well enough to kiss me !" 
 
 " I apologize because I did not love you at the moment 
 with the love that would have justified that kiss. Take 
 my word for it, that kiss was an insult. I am telling 
 you so brutally to save you from tempting another man 
 as you tempted me." 
 
 Babs looked puzzled and distressed 
 
 " I cannot understand what all this fuss is about, nor 
 why you are scolding me," she said. " If you didn't 
 want to kiss me, why did you kiss me ? I should like it 
 much better if you would take me in your arms and kiss 
 me again. I suppose you would if I said I'd marry you." 
 
 Cadenhouse hesitated a moment, then sat down beside 
 her, and put his arm round her. His whole countenance 
 had changed. Pent-up passion glowed in his eyes. 
 
 " You will marry me ?" he whispered. 
 
 Babs raised her lips to his. 
 
 That second kiss tingled through every vein of the 
 recluse. 
 
 312
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " God, what a moment !" he breathed. 
 
 Babs seemed to sink closer into his embrace. Inno- 
 cence is a flower which the Church has cultivated at the 
 instigation of the devil for the betrayal of honorable 
 souls. Cadenhouse's senses had known no blunting 
 experience, and the girl's unsuspicious abandonment of 
 herself to his kisses was complete. A sudden sound 
 startled her. 
 
 " What was that ?" she exclaimed. 
 
 " What ? I heard nothing." 
 
 * Hush ! Listen !" 
 
 All about them it had been intensely still until now, 
 when, from afar off, yet clearly and with weight, there 
 fell upon their ears the toll of a passing bell just one 
 heavy stroke, then silence. 
 
 For many seconds they sat there, listening. The 
 same thought was in the mind of each. They waited 
 involuntarily. It came again up to the high tower, 
 deep-toned, significant. 
 
 Babs looked at Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Montacute !" she ejaculated. 
 
 While they had been philandering ! 
 
 They suffered a complete revulsion of feeling at the 
 thought. 
 
 " We don't know," Cadenhouse said. " But let me 
 take you home in any case." 
 
 * No, no," she cried. " Let me go as I came. I beg 
 you will." 
 
 Cadenhouse was too courtly to insist. 
 " I shall be with you early," he said. " You will want 
 me, won't you Lorraine ?" 
 
 * Oh yes," said Babs, indifferently. She had hardly 
 heard what he was saying. 
 
 When she had gone he threw himself into a chair 
 and sat there, with closed eyes and tingling senses, un- 
 conscious of time, a prey to unexpected emotion. 
 
 313
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 WHEN Babs rode into the yard the dawn had 
 broken, the birds were singing, and Clodd 
 stood sentry at the stable door. 
 
 " It's all right, miss," he said, confiden- 
 tially. " I knowed it must 'a' bin yew as 'ad took the 
 'orse, and I lied like a good un. I said it was Jellybond 
 Tinney. She's a bit light fur 'im, but 'e's not reckoned 
 to know nothing about 'orses. I said as 'ow I'd bin 
 told to wait up fur 'im myself when the other men were 
 sent to bed. But Jellybond Tinney 'e's still in the 'ouse. 
 An' lor', miss, 'e's in great feather this morning ! 'E 
 thinks it were 'im es the Lord 'card when 'e prayed for 
 the young master. 'E reckons 'im an' the Lord 'as 
 saved 'im." 
 
 " Saved !" Babs gasped. 
 
 " Yes, miss. The crisis was to come at daybreak, 
 an', just before, 'e fell into a lovely sleep. 'E'll be all 
 right from now ; and ole Jellybond Tinne3 r , miss, 'e's 
 a-struttin' and a-crowin' and a-takin' of the credit." 
 
 Babs controlled herself until she reached her own 
 room. Once there, she sank upon the floor beside her 
 bed and wept hysterically. This was the last gasp of 
 the various emotions she had experienced during the 
 day and night. When she appeared again she was 
 quite serene, and ready for the next adventure. The 
 recollection of Cadenhouse's kisses suffused her with a 
 soft, warm glow. But there was the awkward fact to 
 be faced of the silence which she had allowed him to 
 
 3H
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 take for consent to his proposal. Face it, however, she 
 would not until she was obliged. 
 
 Over the house all day there brooded that stillness, 
 full of hallowed thanksgiving, which follows fast upon 
 fears of a catastrophe. Up-stairs in the boudoir Mrs. 
 Kingconstance and Mr. Jellybond Tinney sat side by 
 side on a sofa holding each other's hands. 
 
 " You dear man !" she said. " How can I thank you 
 enough for having kept the dreadful truth from me so 
 successfully, and saved me from all that I should have 
 suffered had I suspected that there was danger ?" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, magnanimously adopting this 
 view of his attitude during Montacute's illness, silently 
 pressed her soft white fingers to his lips in evidence of 
 mingled emotions. 
 
 Down-stairs, messages were pouring in from the gentry 
 of the neighborhood. Some rode over in person to make 
 inquiries. Among these was Sir Owen St. Lambert. 
 
 Babs received him in the Pompadour drawing-room. 
 From the panelled walls eighteenth-century lords and 
 ladies, playing at shepherds and shepherdesses, smiled 
 down upon them. The room was redolent of Watteau 
 and white and gold and delicate colors, pinks and greens 
 and blues blending delightfully with Pompadour purple. 
 It had an atmosphere, too, that room, the atmosphere of 
 the period it mimicked an atmosphere of courtly man- 
 ners, distinguished bearing, love-making, and intrigue. 
 Impossible to be there and not to feel it. Such things 
 come naturally to mind in such surroundings, and as 
 naturally pass from thought into action. 
 
 Babs could not have been more suitably framed. She 
 looked like a delicate piece of porcelain herself, so St. 
 Lambert thought, with the blue-gray of her eyes, the 
 white and pink of her cheeks, the shining gold of her 
 hair, and the green of her dainty dress 
 
 " It seems such ages since I saw you," she said.
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " That is good news/' he replied. " It shows that you 
 have missed me." 
 
 " It shows that a good deal has happened since/' said 
 Babs. 
 
 " Oh yes, of course," he answered. " But the worst is 
 over now, happily." 
 
 Babs was not so sure of that. A little shiver of an- 
 ticipation crisped her nerves She felt the intensity of 
 St. Lambert's gaze. Cadenhouse had looked like that 
 had devoured her with his eyes. For the first time 
 she realized the full force of the phrase, and commented 
 to herself upon the fact. She was deeply interested in 
 her own sensations. 
 
 They were standing near a window, and, in the pause 
 which followed his last remark, St. Lambert looked out. 
 It was a lovely winter morning. Bright sunshine show- 
 ed the dewdrops sparkling on every twig. Above the 
 trees masses of snow-white clouds flecked the brilliant 
 blue. Down in the hollows the mist still lingered, and 
 on the frosty air the breath of the deer in the park hung 
 suspended. A horseman who was cantering up the 
 avenue was shrouded in mystery by the steam of his 
 steed. In and out among the trees he showed, a gal- 
 lant figure, splendidly mounted. 
 
 As he passed beneath the window he looked up. His 
 countenance was radiant. 
 
 Babs's heart leaped. 
 
 " Who is this ?" said St. Lambert. 
 
 " Cadenhouse !" Babs gasped. 
 
 " By Jove, yes ! What a good-looking fellow. He's 
 not anticipating bad news, I should say !" 
 
 " Gracious, how my heart beats !" Babs exclaimed, 
 surprised at her own emotion. 
 
 St. Lambert looked at her hard and inquiringly. Her 
 color came and went. There was no concealing her 
 agitation. 
 
 316
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " What is the matter ?" he asked, all the lightness gone 
 from his voice. 
 
 * Nothing. I can't breathe. What a horrible sensa- 
 tion !" 
 
 St. Lambert looked from her to the horseman coming 
 up the drive. Her emotion was obviously connected 
 with his coming. 
 
 " I had better go, I suppose," he said. 
 
 " Oh no, no, no !" she cried. " This is the day of reck- 
 oning. 1 daren't face him alone." 
 
 In her agitation she seized St. Lambert's arm to de- 
 tain him, and at that moment Cadenhouse entered the 
 room. The light went out of his countenance when he 
 saw the group. He stopped short. There was an awk- 
 ward moment. Then St. Lambert went forward, hold- 
 ing out his hand. 
 
 " How are you, Cadenhouse ?" he said. " I am glad 
 to see you again." 
 
 Cadenhouse ignored the hand. He was very pale. 
 
 " Lorraine," he said, sternly, * what am I to under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 Her quick mind leaped to his suspicion ; but, for the 
 life of her, she could not utter a word. 
 
 Cadenhouse misinterpreted her silence and her emo- 
 tion. 
 
 St. Lambert looked from one to the other bewildered. 
 
 Babs was suddenly seized upon with a violent inclina- 
 tion to laugh. Her sensitive face quivered in the at- 
 tempt to control herself. She dropped into a chair and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 The gentlemen looked at her, and then at each 
 other. Each waited for the other to speak. It was a 
 deadlock. 
 
 Babs was busy analyzing her emotions. The inclina- 
 tion to laugh passed as it had come. She began to feel 
 the gravity of the situation. The silence oppressed her. 
 
 317
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She looked up half expecting to find herself alone. She 
 was measuring time by her own sensations, and it seem- 
 ed an age since Cadenhouse entered the room. She 
 jumped up desperately. 
 
 " Somebody say something !" she exclaimed. " I'm 
 suffocating." 
 
 " Pray let me withdraw," said St. Lambert. 
 
 " There is not the slightest necessity," Cadenhouse 
 answered, haughtily. " I understand the position per- 
 fectly. There is no need to prolong " 
 
 He turned to Babs with a hard, pale face. 
 
 " I am sorry er to have arrived at an inopportune 
 moment," he said. 
 
 When he had spoken he bowed and then walked 
 steadily from the room. But in the way he did it, in 
 his whole air and gait, there was the trouble of a man 
 hard hit. 
 
 " But but " Babs gasped, convulsively, clasping 
 her hands to her chest " but people don't go like that, 
 do they ? Would you have thought it possible that he 
 could go like that ?" 
 
 St. Lambert stood twisting first one end of his mus- 
 tache and then the other. 
 
 " Babs," he said, " what have you been doing ?" 
 
 She wrung her hands. 
 
 " You saw Cadenhouse after I left you last night ?" 
 
 She did not deny it. 
 
 " He came here ?" 
 
 She made no sign. 
 
 " He did not come here ?" 
 
 Still she made no sign. 
 
 * He did not come here ?" St. Lambert concluded. 
 " Then where on earth did you meet ?" 
 
 Far away, above the trees on the top of the hill, 
 the tower just showed. Involuntarily Babs glanced 
 towards it. 
 
 318
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 St. Lambert caught the glance, and fell to twisting 
 his mustache again. He looked up at the tower, then 
 down at Babs. 
 
 " But Cadenhouse is an honorable man/' slipped from 
 him. 
 
 " You speak as though there was a doubt in your 
 mind," Babs said, hotly. " Cadenhouse is an honor- 
 able man the best man in the world. . . . What have 
 I done? . . . But I've not done anything \" 
 
 She paused upon the protest, and reflected a little. 
 
 " I don't know why it hurts," she said, at last ; " but 
 it does. I don't want to marry him, but, oh, I do want 
 him to want to marry me as he did ast night ! It is 
 horrible of him to throw me over like that !" 
 
 " He certainly had no intention of throwing you over 
 as he rode up to the house this morning/' St. Lambert 
 said, slowly, pondering as he spoke. " He has gone 
 under some misapprehension." 
 
 " Yes," said Babs, in a low voice. " He is gone un- 
 der a misapprehension." 
 
 " But can't it be set right ?" 
 
 "No, no!" she exclaimed, "he should have trusted 
 me. And yet I don't know. I did say " She wrung 
 her hands. " Oh, dear ! oh, dear !" she lamented. " I 
 don't feel a bit about anything to-day as I did yester- 
 day. ... I never saw Cadenhouse like that so precipi- 
 tate, you know. Before, one always felt inclined to 
 give him a push to make him go quicker. But did you 
 notice ?" She drew herself up in imitation of Caden- 
 house's gesture as he had left the room. " Wasn't it 
 tremendous ? I never saw him like that before Mar- 
 quis of Cadenhouse, Earl of Clon, Baron Demeyne 
 off with her to instant execution. That was the kind 
 of thing his ancestors did, I suppose, when they caught 
 their marchionesses kissing ? But what an exit ! It 
 was magnificent !" 
 
 319
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Truly," said St. Lambert, light breaking in upon him. 
 " But as he had not caught his marchioness kissing " 
 
 " He thought he had, though, because of something 
 I said last night," she rejoined. " There he goes !" 
 
 She sprang to the window and flung it open. 
 
 " Cadenhouse ! Cadenhouse I" she called, frantically. 
 
 Checking his horse, he looked up at her, uncovered 
 his head, and sat, a model of grave courtesy, awaiting 
 her further pleasure. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Lord Cadenhouse," she said, 
 overcome with sudden confusion. " I ought not to have 
 stopped you. It was an impulse." 
 
 " You had something to say to me ?" he answered. 
 
 " Yes. I wanted to tell you you were mistaken you 
 wronged me." 
 
 Cadenhouse turned his horse. 
 
 * He's coming back," said Babs to St. Lambert, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 Without a word St. Lambert left the room. 
 
 Babs waited with her hands clasped to her heart. It 
 was beating to suffocation. 
 
 Cadenhouse glanced round when he entered, as if he 
 had not expected to find her alone. The light had 
 comj back to his countenance. 
 
 " You tell me I was mistaken," he said. " I believe 
 you, Babs ; you have always been truthful. I trust 
 you implicitly. But when I saw you clinging to that 
 man's arm " 
 
 " I was horribly agitated," she broke in, " when I saw 
 you coming up the drive ; I don't know what came over 
 me. My heart began to beat in such a funny way. I 
 never felt like that before. And he saw my agitation, 
 and connected it with your coming. And he was going, 
 and I said, ' Don't go !' I don't know why. I didn't 
 know I was clinging to his arm. I'm agitated still. I 
 hardly know what I'm saying " 
 
 320
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He held out his arms to her. 
 
 " Say you were glad to see me," he said, clasping her 
 close, and raising her face and looking down into it a 
 moment before he kissed her. 
 
 Babs, soothed and satisfied, became herself again. 
 She heaved a happy sigh. 
 
 " Glad !" she exclaimed. " Oh, the relief it is to 'have 
 you back ! I never in my life suffered as I did in the 
 moments after you had left me. I felt so horribly hu- 
 miliated." 
 
 Before he could reply, the door behind them opened. 
 It was Mr. Jellybond Tinney. He blinked like one 
 dazzled by a strong light, and then withdrew as if he 
 had not seen them. 
 
 " He must have seen us !" Babs exclaimed. 
 
 " Hum !" said Cadenhouse. " It was slightly over- 
 done. But what does it matter ? I am going at once to 
 announce " 
 
 " Oh no, no !" Babs interrupted. " I shouldn't care a 
 bit about being engaged to you, and everybody know- 
 ing it, and all that horrid business. I won't !" 
 
 " Now, please understand this, Babs/' he said, and it 
 was again the new Cadenhouse who spoke, the man 
 who was not to be trifled with " please understand 
 this : you are not going to play with me. You accepted 
 me last night." 
 
 * I didn't mean to" 
 
 " You knew I understood that you consented " 
 
 " I was consenting to let you kiss me." 
 
 Cadenhouse took a turn up and down the room im- 
 patiently, then came to a standstill in front of her. 
 
 " It was only your vanity, then, that was wounded 
 just now when you thought I had gone ?" he said. 
 
 Babs pouted. 
 
 " Babs/' said Cadenhouse, pleadingly, " will you put 
 aside all levity ? Will you be serious ? This means a 
 x 321
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 great deal to me nothing has ever meant so much. If 
 you really love me, I shall be the happiest man on earth ; 
 but tell me " he took her by both hands, and drew her 
 to him " tell me. If you have the slightest doubt " 
 
 Babs took fright. 
 
 " I'm all doubt," she gasped. " I don't know. Give 
 me time." 
 
 " You must know," he insisted. 
 
 " I don't." 
 
 " Then you refuse me ?" 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " I tell you I will not be played with." 
 
 " You frighten me, Cadenhouse, you are so stern," 
 she pleaded. " Why have you suddenly become so dif- 
 ferent ? So long as you kiss me and pet me, we are 
 happy together ; but if you will have an engagement, 
 and an announcement, and goodness knows what " 
 
 He dropped her hands. 
 
 " The truth is, you do not care a rap about me," he 
 said. " You are an unscrupulous little coquette." 
 
 " Thank you," said Babs, bridling. 
 
 " What am I to think ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 " What you like," she retorted. 
 
 " I think that you have been amusing yourself at my 
 expense." 
 
 " You are a man of extraordinary penetration," Babs 
 snapped. 
 
 Cadenhouse took another impatient turn about the 
 room. He glanced, without seeing them, at the lord 
 and lady shepherds and shepherdesses that smiled down 
 upon him from the white panelled walls. His face was 
 greatly troubled. 
 
 " Lorraine," he said, at last, peremptorily, coming back 
 to her as he spoke " Lorraine, once for all, will you 
 marry me ?" 
 
 " Don't press that question now," she implored. Her 
 
 322
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 hesitation arose simply from a natural shrinking to com- 
 mit herself to she knew not what ; but he did not under- 
 stand it. He was perfectly primitive in that it never oc- 
 curred to him that it was not by argument but by wooing 
 that young girls are won. His own inclination drove 
 him to the point direct, and he had no notion that a more 
 zigzag method would have answered best with her. He 
 should have given her time ; but he insisted. 
 
 Babs turned cold ; she threw herself into a chair. 
 
 " I cannot marry you/' she said, positively. 
 
 " Thank you," he replied, " I understand that, at all 
 events. That is quite enough." 
 
 She sat with her eyes fixed on the ground. There 
 was a little pause. Then she heard him go. She wait- 
 ed in the same attitude, listening. Presently there came 
 the crunch of his horse's hoofs on the gravel below. Still 
 she sat, rooted to the spot sat until the sound had died 
 even from her imagination. 
 
 Then at last she looked up at the lords and ladies and 
 the lambs. 
 
 " What a ghastly sensation !" she said. " Yet what 
 else could I have done ?" 
 
 But the lords and ladies and lambs had no suggestion 
 to offer. 
 
 323
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 BABS did not see St. Lambert again for a week. 
 During this time she devoted herself to Monta- 
 cute, who was making a rapid recovery. Day 
 and night she suffered a cruel agony of expecta- 
 tion. She could not believe that Cadenhouse had gone 
 for good. His habit had always been to ride over ; and 
 again and again she fancied she heard the thud of his 
 horse's hoofs, and her heart stood still. And often 
 enough she had heard well, so far as the horse was con- 
 cerned ; but never once was the rider the right one. 
 
 She caught Mr. Jellybond Tinney observing her 
 closely one day. 
 
 " Babs," he said, gently, " I've seen you grow up. I 
 can't help feeling a special interest in will you permit 
 me to say, a special affection for you ? I'm a man of the 
 w r orld, and I know when to hold my tongue ; I know 
 better than to see things which I'm not supposed to have 
 seen. But if at any time I can be of use to you I do hope 
 you will make me useful if it be only as a target to talk 
 at when talking does you good." 
 
 Babs held out her hand to him. 
 
 " I understand," she said, simply. " I haven't always 
 understood you, I believe ; but now I know you mean 
 to be kind." 
 
 " That is my intention always," he replied ; * but I 
 make my mistakes, like other men. Sometimes I do 
 what seems the kindest thing at the moment, but the ef- 
 fect of it is cruel in the end." He was thinking of the 
 
 3 2 4
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 consequences of sundry comforting caresses which the 
 recipients had mistaken for signs of serious intentions. 
 " Still, I do my best. ' Nothing if not kind ' is what I 
 want to earn for an epitaph." 
 
 After he had spoken he seemed to be waiting for Babs 
 to say something. 
 
 " What is it ?" she asked, at last, irritably. 
 
 " Nothing," he answered. " I thought you looked 
 anxious as if you expected some one." 
 
 " You don't expect people to come back if you send 
 them away, do you ?" she demanded. 
 
 But she went off without waiting for an answer. 
 
 No ! she could not take Mr. Jellybond Tinney into 
 her confidence. Still, she found his evident interest in 
 the situation a sort of help. Half our delight in our own 
 history as we live it comes of our confidences. Those 
 periods when we have much to say and many listeners 
 are always momentous. 
 
 Every night she drew up her blinds, but never once 
 from the high tower did the light shine into the room. 
 Lying awake on her bed, wondering at her own anxiety, 
 she said to herself : " He must have been a great deal to 
 me." And then she fell to examining the phrase in a 
 kind of surprise ; all such phrases came to her just then 
 with a new significance. 
 
 At first she did not think at all of St. Lambert ; but 
 after a while she remembered him, and wished he would 
 come. Him she could talk to about Cadenhouse he 
 knew. 
 
 As it happened, he did not know. He had taken it 
 for granted that they would make up their differences ; 
 and he had been expecting to see an announcement of 
 their engagement every day. He thought he would 
 wait for that before he went again to pay his respects to 
 Babs. Time went on, however, and no announcement 
 appeared. Then one day the news came to Normanton 
 
 325
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 that Cadenhouse had suddenly gone abroad. St. Lam- 
 bert wondered what that might mean, and, after some 
 cogitation, he determined to go and see for himself if it 
 were well with Babs. 
 
 He came upon the family at tea. There was a hot 
 d scussion going on at the moment. 
 
 " The question is : am I to be sent back to school ?" 
 said Babs, when he was seated. 
 
 She spoke in her usual offhand way ; but there were 
 dark circles round her eyes and her cheeks were pale. 
 He saw that she had suffered. 
 
 " I say no," she proceeded. " I have done with school. 
 I mean to strike out in a more original direction in the 
 way of education." 
 
 " I don't see why you should want so much education 
 at all," Mrs. Kingconstance plaintively remonstrated. 
 " Look at Julia !" 
 
 Babs groaned. 
 
 " Poor, dear Julia !" she excla med. " Why should 
 she be brought into the discussion ? She is herself. 
 Do, for goodness' sake, let me be myself also." 
 
 " But what do you want ?" said Mrs. Kingconstance, 
 in accents of despair. 
 
 " I want a tutoress of my own choosing," said Babs. 
 " One of those new university women of the world who 
 will teach one things. If I go on like this, knowing 
 nothing, I shall make a horrid muddle of my life " 
 
 " What an idea!" said Mrs. Kingconstance, appeal- 
 ing to the party. 
 
 " I think it rather a good idea, do you know," said St. 
 Lambert. 
 
 " Oh, do you?" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed, prompt 
 to come round to any view of the subject that proceeded 
 from the masculine mind. 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " but I think so more particularly 
 because I happen to know just the kind of person for the 
 
 326
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 purpose. She is the daughter of an old chum of mine, 
 a charming and accomplished girl. I have been her 
 guardian since her father's death, and have seen her 
 grow up." 
 
 " But has she got any dreadful new ideas ?" Mrs. 
 Kingconstance bleated. 
 
 " No dreadful ideas, certainly, I should say," he re- 
 plied. " But she is a woman of the day. Her ideas 
 are the ideas of her own time, the newest and the best 
 ideas. You will allow that we are advancing, I sup- 
 pose ?" 
 
 " Ye s s," Mrs. Kingconstance answered, doubt- 
 fully. " But" 
 
 " Don't let us have any buts, mamma," Babs put in, 
 irritably. " Sir Owen seems to know what I want. Do 
 let the lady come if she will. If it doesn't answer, she 
 can go again." 
 
 Babs got up when she had spoken, and began to walk 
 about the room restlessly. 
 
 " Do you really think it would be wise ?" Mrs. King- 
 constance asked St. Lambert, confidentially. 
 
 " The wisest thing in the world, if Barbara Land will 
 undertake .the task," he answered. 
 
 The suggestion of a doubt about her coming made 
 Mrs. Kingconstance keen to secure the lady. And so 
 it was arranged. 
 
 Babs waited anxiously for Barbara Land's arrival. 
 What she expected of her she did not exactly know her- 
 self ; but there was a vague idea in her subconscious- 
 ness that some good some comfort would come of it. 
 
 When the day came Babs persuaded her mother to 
 let her drive to the station with Sir Owen to meet Miss 
 Land. 
 
 It was one of those bright, clear days when all seems 
 well with the world. They were in an open carriage, 
 
 3 2 7
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and as they drove along together a sense of soothing 
 stole over Babs. She was very quiet. 
 
 'Part of the way the road skirted a corner of Caden- 
 house' s property, and at one point his high tower loom- 
 ed above them. St. Lambert felt Babs sink into her- 
 self as they approached it. She gazed up at it silently. 
 He had had no confidential talk with her since Caden- 
 house's departure. She seemed to like to be with him, 
 but she had been curiously reserved. 
 
 "The tower looks lonely," he remarked, as they passed 
 beneath it 
 
 Her attention quickened, but she did not speak. 
 
 " A house seems soulless when its owner is absent," 
 he proceeded. " Cadenhouse is a queer fellow. When 
 he was a little boy at school we were at school together, 
 did you know ? I was in the sixth when he was in the 
 third ; there is a difference in our ages. But even then 
 he had a reputation of his own. The dignity of the man 
 was latent in the boy ; no one took liberties with Caden- 
 house. Something exceptional we all expected him to 
 do, and I confess that to find him at thirty-five content 
 simply to be exceptional is a disappointment." 
 
 He could see that Babs was listening, but she made 
 no answer. 
 
 " No one seems in the least to know where he has gone 
 to now," he observed, tentatively. 
 
 " Gone !" Babs ejaculated. " Has Cadenhouse gone ?" 
 
 She seemed greatly shocked. 
 
 " Yes didn't you know ?" he answered, casually, 
 looking in the opposite direction as he spoke. 
 
 He waited long for a reply ; but he did wait with 
 his eyes still fixed on the distant prospect. He knew 
 that there was a conflict of some kind raging beside 
 him ; but he thought it best to let it settle itself. 
 
 After a long interval Babs spoke. 
 
 " Don't you smoke ?" she said. 
 328
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Then he turned to her. She was sitting up stiffly, 
 but there was nothing rigid in the expression of her face. 
 On the contrary, there was a look of appeal in her eyes 
 that touched him. Her hands lay in her lap ungloved. 
 He took them both in one of his own. 
 
 " We are not going to treat each other conventionally, 
 are we, Babs ?" he said. " We didn't begin like that, 
 you know. I don't want your confidence I mean, you 
 mustn't think it necessary to tell me everything about 
 yourself ; only, if you ever want a useful friend, you 
 know " 
 
 He broke off with his pleasant smile, pressed her hands 
 gently, and restored them to her. 
 
 Babs leaned back in the carriage with a little sigh, as 
 of relief. 
 
 " I feel as if I were recovering from a long illness," she 
 said, " and had come out for the first time into the pure 
 air and the sunshine. I have been greatly troubled 
 heart-sick, that's the word. How oddly one tumbles 
 upon unknown phrases that express just what one wants 
 to say ! I don't know that I ever had those words in 
 my mind before heart-sick; but that is what I have 
 been. I'd like to tell you all about it ; but I can't. My 
 trouble all along has been that I cannot speak." 
 
 " There is no need to speak," he said. " Let me say 
 some of the things you cannot prevail upon yourself to 
 say. You were engaged to Cadenhouse for a little ; 
 then you had a disagreement, and Cadenhouse took 
 himself off. You have been rather expecting him to 
 return ; but he seems to have gone for good. And now 
 you are going to be philosophical." 
 
 Babs smiled up at him ; and as she did so she passed 
 through one of her swift transitions. 
 
 " I shall certainly not trouble myself about Caden- 
 house while you are here," she said. 
 
 There was invitation in her eyes as she spoke. She
 
 was starving for a caress. Babs came of a long line of 
 women who, deprived of the means of intellectual de- 
 velopment, had been obliged to live upon their senses 
 more or less ; women who had all been domestic pets in 
 their time, and little else ; and now, in obedience to the 
 hereditary pressure of the habit, she courted caresses as 
 instinctively and as innocently as a much-loved lap-dog 
 or a comfortable cat. And St. Lambert, taken unawares, 
 yielded involuntarily. Before he had had time to think, 
 he had drawn her to him and kissed her lips. 
 
 Babs nestled closer, all her being a-purr with pleasure. 
 
 So they drove through the balmy air she in a happy 
 state of physical satisfaction, her heart beating freely 
 at last after the cruel tension of so many days ; he in 
 despair, calculating the difference between forty and 
 seventeen, and anathematizing himself already for the 
 folly of that kiss. 
 
 After a while Babs began to talk in the frank way nat- 
 ural to her. She told him all the episode with Caden- 
 house, letting him see plainly enough that the blame of 
 her indiscretion should attach not to her for it was in 
 no way her fault that she should have the instincts of a 
 woman with only the knowledge of a child to guide her 
 but to those who were responsible for her ignorance. 
 
 Had the drive been a little longer, he might have come 
 to consider his own position in the affair ; but the car- 
 riage pulled up at the stat on before he had arrived at 
 that part of the subject, and he was obliged to postpone 
 the consideration of it till a more convenient season. 
 
 Barbara Land was a surprise to Babs ; she had not 
 been prepared for her in the least. She saw a young 
 and elegant woman step from the train and look about 
 her ; a woman with bronze hair, a white, transparent 
 skin, gray eyes, and dark eyebrows, delicately pen- 
 cilled details which struck Babs with curious distinct- 
 
 330
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ness, although she was not habitually observant in such 
 matters. Barbara Land made an instant impression of 
 youth and health and strength and perfect self-posses- 
 sion. Hers was youthful maturity, such as one sees in 
 works of art ; she was at once a woman and a girl a 
 girl in years, a woman by grace of intellect. Every- 
 thing about her satisfied ; especially her voice, which 
 was low and cultivated, but with that suggestion of 
 strength in reserve which her whole appearance prom- 
 ised. In speaking she used no exaggerated expressions, 
 but chose the words which best expressed her meaning. 
 This gave to everything she uttered the charm of sin- 
 cerity. It was a delight to hear English spoken as Bar- 
 bara spoke it. 
 
 She was a new specimen to Babs, who sat and contem- 
 plated her during the long drive home, saying little her- 
 self, absorbed in seeing and hearing. 
 
 But the first effect of Barbara upon Babs was not 
 happy ; she made her feel small and trivial, which was 
 humiliating, and disheartened her with some inexplica- 
 ble foreboding of a perfection to which she could never 
 attain. Babs, without jealousy, felt that her own little 
 light was dimmed by this radiant vision. St. Lambert 
 bowed with respect to Barbara, and Cadenhouse doubt- 
 less would do the same. They might play with Babs ; 
 either of them might marry her even ; but this was the 
 woman they would both adore. 
 
 So thought Babs, gazing up at the new woman on 
 her pinnacle, and not yet knowing that there was aspi- 
 ration in her own attitude towards her, and the power 
 to rise in the generous recognition of her worth. 
 
 Mrs Kingconstance awaited their arrival in a state of 
 trepidation. Lady May had been with her that after- 
 noon, and, on hearing of the new experiment in the way 
 of education which she was about to try, had said enough 
 
 331
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 about " those dreadful university women," the destruc- 
 tion of the female physique by the higher mathematics, 
 what men think, and sundry other apposite subjects, 
 to thrill Mrs. Kingconstance with the fear that she had 
 compassed her daughter's destruction here and here- 
 after, and particularly in the estimation of men, by al- 
 lowing a woman of the school to which Barbara Land 
 belonged to enter her house. 
 
 " You do not want your daughter, I suppose, to be 
 brought up to be an ill-mannered, self-opinionated, ag- 
 gressive woman ?" Lady May had said, sitting up stiff 
 as a grenadier, and dominating poor Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance by that intellectual brutality which is the out- 
 come of the very faults she was condemning. 
 
 " But Sir Owen St. Lambert thinks highly of Miss 
 Land/' Mrs. Kingconstance had just ventured in self- 
 defence. 
 
 " Very likely," was the dry response. " You know 
 women of that sort always have a certain kind of man 
 in their following a weak, effeminate sort of creature. 
 Sir Owen St. Lambert is a nobody of that kind proba- 
 bly. I don't know him." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance had bridled somewhat at that, 
 but only to the extent of wishing that she had waited 
 to consult Mr. Jellybond Tinney. He had been away 
 when the arrangement was made, and knew nothing 
 at all about it. 
 
 She would 'ike to have taken Miss Land to task the 
 moment she entered the house ; but as the party only 
 arrived in time to dress for dinner, that was impossible. 
 For there could be no question with Mrs. Kingconstance 
 as to which of the two risks should be run at the mo- 
 ment, that of cold soup, or of the introduction of ad- 
 vanced ideas into the household. 
 
 But she had such a dread of advanced ideas in her 
 mind that she began to sound Miss Land on the subject 
 
 332
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 at table, in the interval after she had taken her soup and 
 while she was waiting for the fish. 
 
 " I hope you have none of those dreadful new ideas 
 about women, Miss Land," she said. " Men dislike 
 them excessively." 
 
 " Surely you are mistaken," said Barbara Land, with 
 gentle malice. " Men like everything that is new, new 
 women especially." 
 
 " Oh, but women's suffrage, you know, and all that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 " You are not for the suffrage, then ?" said Barbara, 
 looking about her for a means of escape from the subject. 
 
 " Certainly not " 
 
 " You feel it no injustice that your gardeners should 
 have a vote while you have none ?" 
 
 " My gardeners," Mrs. Kingconstance echoed vaguely, 
 her mind roaming about the notion suggested for a mo- 
 ment, searching for an objection ; for since it was so, 
 she felt sure it must be right. " My gardeners," she 
 repeated " oh, but they are such nice men ! I am sure 
 they will all vote conservative." 
 
 " What do you th'nk of that for a reason ?" Babs said 
 to St. Lambert, beside whom she was sitting. " I've 
 dropped my serviette : where is it ?" she rattled on. 
 
 " Babs," her mother remonstrated. " Don't say ser- 
 viette. It is positively genteel." 
 
 " Whose legislation is that ?" said Babs. " But, any- 
 way, I don't care whose it is. I like the word best, and 
 I shall use it. Napkin reminds me of Simon Peter on a 
 sacred occasion ; and with that in my mind, I really 
 cannot use the word every day at dinner." 
 
 " Really, Babs, you ought to be ashamed " her moth- 
 er began. 
 
 " I've lost all sense of shame," Babs interrupted, cheer- 
 fully. " I was convicted of spelling apology with two 
 p's the other day, and I didn't squirm a bit." 
 
 333
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " But, Babs," her mother persisted, " you know how 
 greatly I dislike irreverence. Miss Land, I hope you 
 are not irreverent ?" 
 
 " I hope not," said Barbara. 
 
 " What is your religion, may I ask ?" 
 
 " I can hardly give it a name," said Barbara, yielding 
 to the catechism. " To me any idea that one lays hold 
 of religiously, with a view to making i. an aid to a higher 
 life, is religion. I believe that God, who knows the dif- 
 ficulty o transmitting even His own messages from one 
 to another of us by way of our finite faculties, vouch- 
 safes to each of us a separate revelation." 
 
 " Then you do not go to church ?" Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance exclaimed. 
 
 " On the contrary, I am fond of church. There is 
 soothing in the services. Where people have worshipped, 
 feeling reverent, the sentiment lingers. I have felt it in 
 the temple of a hideous painted idol in Japan." 
 
 " But are you are you for the disestablishment of the 
 Church ?" Mrs. Kingconstance ventured. 
 
 " I am neither for nor against," said Barbara Land, 
 " because I do not know what the consequence would be. 
 The Church system, with all its faults, is a part of the 
 best life of the nation ; the influence for good of the 
 clergy is great ; and I am sure it would be a sad day for 
 England were anything done to destroy their influence, 
 especially before something better has been found to 
 supersede it." 
 
 " Are you speaking of the High Church party ?" Miss 
 Kingconstance asked. 
 
 " No, the high-minded Church party," Barbara an- 
 swered. " We want no rule of the priest here." 
 
 "Oh, but a pretty church," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 pleaded, " with flowers and incense, and all that don't 
 you think it a help ?" 
 
 " All that implies the rule of the priest," said Barbara 
 
 334
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Land ; " and that we women will not have. No one 
 shall come between us and our God." 
 
 " If that be your attitude now towards the priest, his 
 day is done," said St. Lambert. " In the days of your 
 captivity it was said that the priest was the parasite of 
 women." 
 
 " Now we like a man to be a man," said Barbara 
 Land. 
 
 " Well, I think religion is an attitude of mind more 
 than a matter of creed," said Miss Kingconstance ; " and 
 anything which helps us into that attitude of mind 
 should be encouraged." 
 
 " There I am with you," Barbara said ; " but sensu- 
 ous services do not help us into that frame of mind, if 
 we are to judge of them by their final effect. Wherever 
 you come upon the Puritan stock you find truth, plenty, 
 and peace ; but upon the rule of the priest there follows 
 a blight. The spirit serves the Puritan ; only the senses 
 serve the priest." 
 
 There was a silence after this. In broaching these 
 subjects, Mrs. Kingconstance had had a stimulating 
 consciousness that she was talking clever. Improving 
 conversation was her fad just then ; she thought it so 
 right, she said, on account of the girls. 
 
 But her attention had wandered now to an excellent 
 entree. As she disposed of it she also disposed of all in- 
 clination to controversy. She found Barbara Land an 
 agreeable person both to look at and to speak to ; and 
 she began to flatter herself that her own judgment was 
 quite as good as that of Lady May, and her own 
 chosen adviser in the matter, St. Lambert, a much 
 more reliable guide. 
 
 " You are not in the least the sort of person I ex- 
 pected to see, Miss Land," she remarked, smiling gra- 
 ciously. 
 
 " Ah, I know !" said Barbara, responding to the smile. 
 
 335
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * Some one has been trying to create a pre,udice. Get 
 into a new set, and there, at once, you find your enemies 
 ready made." 
 
 " The Old Woman in the new conception of the word," 
 St. Lambert said, " would give anything to have done 
 what the New Woman has done, to be what the New 
 Woman is, but cannot forgive her for what she has done 
 and is." 
 
 " But what is the New Woman, after all ?" Mrs. King- 
 constance asked. 
 
 " The New Woman is just the Old Woman with every 
 good quality a little better developed," St. Lambert re- 
 plied. " Florence Nightingale, for instance. She was 
 the newest of New Women in her own day, and was plen- 
 tifully bespattered with mud on that account ; but now 
 we are ready to canonize her. Josephine Butler, too 
 any of them who have stood up bravely and fought for 
 a principle, regardless of the brickbats flung at them by 
 gross men and the stabs of ill-conditioned women." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance went to rest with an easy mind 
 that night ; but next morning perhaps because there 
 had been more of that excellent dinner than was neces- 
 sary for nourishment, and the idle surplus had been 
 getting into mischief in her system at any rate, she 
 awoke with distinct misgivings and sent for Miss Land 
 as soon as she had dressed. 
 
 " Miss Land," she said " you have come here to help 
 my daughter with her studies, and I want you to under- 
 stand clearly that you are only to occupy yourself with 
 the cultivation of her mind. I will no have her enlight- 
 ened on any any disagreeable subject, you know. 
 There must be no talk of love and lovers, or anything 
 of that sort. So far as as all that is concerned, she is 
 perfectly innocent a babe, in fact ; and my earnest 
 wish is that she should remain so. ... But you have 
 
 336
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 such a nice face, and you are so womanly and so lady- 
 like, I cannot think that you know anything yourself 
 about about things that you should not know any- 
 thing about." 
 
 " I hope not/' said Barbara Land. 
 Y 337
 
 JW 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 R. JELLYBOND TINNEY had gone away for 
 a short time to settle some business in London, 
 as he told Mrs. Kingconstance when he took 
 leave of her. On his return he determined to 
 propose without any more shilly-shally, and he hur- 
 ried to Dane Court without loss of time to carry out his 
 intention. He meant to catch Mrs. Kingconstance on 
 her return from her drive for afternoon tea ; but she 
 was still out when he arrived. 
 
 Some one was singing in the drawing-room. It was 
 a strange, sweet voice such as Mr. Jellybond Tinney, 
 who understood music, had not heard in that house be- 
 fore. Babs had a beautiful birdlike treble, like a boy's, 
 pure and, as yet, passionless ; but this was a rich mez- 
 zo-soprano, produced to perfection, sympathetic, vibrat- 
 ing with emotion the voice of a woman in her prime. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney went to the great drawing-room 
 straight, as if he had been called. 
 
 Barbara was singing to Babs, who was lying on a 
 sofa, sensuous little animal that she was, revelling in 
 the music. 
 
 The singing ceased just as Mr. Jellybond Tinney en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 Babs heaved a big sigh. 
 
 " I don't know whether it's earth or heaven," she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Neither do I," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 They had not heard him enter the room. Barbara 
 
 338
 
 "BARBARA WAS SINGING TO BABS'
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 turned round, and Mr Jellybond Tinney, seeing a face 
 that matched the voice, gazed incontinently, and forgot 
 to bow. 
 
 " Go on, Barbara," Babs urged. " Oh, I forgot. Man- 
 ners ! How do you do, Mr. Jellybond ? Ladies needn't 
 get up to shake hands though I confess it's nicer when 
 they do ; more gracious. Mr. Jellybond Tinney Miss 
 Barbara Land ; Miss Barbara Land Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney. There ! It's more hospitable to introduce. 
 Now, go on, Barbara, do ; there's a dear ! Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney loves music. Mr. Jellybond, don't inter- 
 rupt. Just sit down there like a good man, where you 
 can hear, see, and adore." 
 
 " The heart of man could desire naught better," he 
 answered, fervently. 
 
 When Mrs. Kingconstance came in, she found him 
 in that attitude ; but she paid no special attention to 
 him. She had encountered Lady May on the road, and 
 brought her back with her to inspect Miss Land. 
 
 " You are quite mistaken about her," she had said, 
 triumphantly. " She is anything but hard and aggres- 
 sive. She is very gentle and womanly, and quite a 
 beauty." 
 
 * Oh !" Lady May had snorted. " Then she is the 
 very worst kind of New Woman." 
 
 Babs closed her eyes when Lady May entered the 
 room, and tried to think of something to say to shock 
 her. 
 
 " Lorraine !" her mother exclaimed. " Don't you see 
 Lady May ? What are you thinking about ?" 
 
 Babs gathered herself up slowly. 
 
 " I'm in love," she said, with a gigantic sigh. 
 
 * Babs !" her mother exclaimed. 
 
 * Well ?" 
 
 * How can you say such a thing ?" 
 
 * Do you mean to say you have no sympathy with 
 
 339
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 people who are in love ?" Babs asked, reproachfully. 
 " And here have I been rejoicing to think I have such a 
 young mamma ! Have you forgotten ?" 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance suddenly became conscious of 
 the presence of Mr. Jellybond Tinney and blushed ; but 
 the arrival of Ally Spice and Fanny Sturdy saved the 
 situation. They were quickly followed by Florence 
 Japp and her mother, Mrs. Normanton and her brother, 
 the good vicar, Julia, and Miss Kingconstance. 
 
 Barbara was still perched upon the piano-stool. She 
 felt Lady May's hard, unsympathetic eyes upon her. 
 Babs kept to her sofa, and it was evident to those 
 who knew her that she meant mischief. The others 
 arranged themselves so that they might see the beauti- 
 ful strange lady, and at the same time listen to Lady 
 May, the oracle of the neighborhood. Thus Barbara, 
 hemmed in on her piano -stool, became the centre of 
 the circle. 
 
 "We were just talking about love," Babs recom- 
 menced, with another gigantic sigh, addressing the 
 company generally. 
 
 Barbara, with the recollection of Mrs. Kingconstance's 
 admonition still fresh in her mind, raised her eyebrows 
 and glanced at that lady, who, surprised herself, flushed 
 and fidgeted uncomfortably. 
 
 " We talk of nothing but love here because we have 
 so little of it," Babs proceeded, addressing Barbara. 
 " Though why we aren't all of us always in love I don't 
 know." 
 
 * It would be difficult in this neighborhood," said Flor- 
 ence Japp, with a ring of bitterness in her voice which 
 caused Barbara to consider her with interest. 
 
 " You mean because there aren't men enough to go 
 round," said Babs. " Don't despair, Florence ! Be 
 good, and perhaps you'll have a reformed rake flung to 
 you for a husband. I haven't a notion what a reformed
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 rake is ; but he is generally the reward of merit in the 
 books." 
 
 " Ladies seem to think that a reformed rake is better 
 than er no bread," Mr. Jellybond Tinney observed. 
 " But I should say beware of rolling stones myself. It 
 is the rolling stone that er barks the shins." 
 
 Ally Spice looked up at the dear man in admiration. 
 Barbara gave him one glance which made him sorry he 
 had risked the remark. 
 
 " Why shouldn't half a dozen women love the same 
 man ?" Babs asked. " Mr. Jellybond Tinney, you know. 
 It's quite possible, isn't it ?" 
 
 This was a random shot of Babs's ; but it sufficed to 
 silence Mr. Jellybond Tinney. He glanced involunta- 
 rily at Barbara Land, and found her looking at him again 
 shrewdly. Babs never dreamed that he had philandered 
 with every lady in the room, and did not observe the 
 sudden self-consciousness that settled upon them all. 
 Barbara did. 
 
 " I think it a mistake myself," Babs pursued, " to be in 
 love with any one in particular. For the rest of my life 
 I am going to be in love with love alone. It does make 
 you feel so nice to be in love with love : it's an ecstatic 
 sensation ; isn't it, Lady May ? But perhaps you're in 
 love with Sir Philip. It must be rather nice to have a 
 man of your very own to kiss whenever you feel inclined." 
 
 The elder ladies had gradually stiffened with horror 
 as Babs proceeded ; the younger ones were inclined to 
 titter, especially at that allusion to Sir Philip May, who 
 was not the sort of man they would any of them have 
 chosen to kiss for pleasure. 
 
 " Where have you got all this nonsense, Babs ?" her 
 mother demanded, in a tone of great annoyance. 
 
 " Which nonsense ?" Babs asked, innocently. 
 
 " This nonsense you've been talking about love, and 
 all that."
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," Babs answered. " Who 
 teaches the birds? Perhaps you can tell us, Lady 
 May?" 
 
 " I do not consider the subject at all suitable for dis- 
 cussion/' Lady May rejoined. " I believe there are cer- 
 tain unsexed women who do talk in this way nowadays ; 
 but I do not associate with them, and I should be sorry 
 to see any one in this neighborhood under the influence 
 of such a person. This kind of thing spreads like an 
 epidemic." 
 
 "We 1 !, you needn't glare at Barbara Land/' said 
 Babs. " She's quite distressingly proper as bad as 
 you are." 
 
 The other ladies exchanged glances, not knowing 
 whether to laugh at or to deprecate such an attitude 
 towards the woman to whom they were all accustomed 
 to toady. 
 
 " Isn't Babs funny to-day ?" Fanny Sturdy remarked, 
 aside to Ally Spice. 
 
 Ally Spice goggled her eyes. 
 
 " Some one was priming mamma lately on the subject 
 of New Women ; was it you ?" Babs proceeded, address- 
 ing Lady May. 
 
 " I've just been telling Lady May that she is quite mis- 
 taken," Mrs. Kingconstance intervened. " Miss Land 
 is not a New Woman at all, in spite of her educa- 
 tion." 
 
 " But that is not my fault," said Barbara Land, apolo- 
 getically. " I hope I shall improve." 
 
 " You will not improve in that camp," Lady May de- 
 cided. 
 
 " Certainly not," Mrs. Japp rumbled out, in her deep 
 bass voice. " If those people have their way there will 
 be an end of all true womanly influence." 
 
 " You should hear what men say on the subject !" 
 Lady May interjected. 
 
 342
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I very much doubt if men appreciate the influences 
 of the old-fashioned woman as much as they pretend/' 
 Miss Kingconstance remarked. 
 
 " Oh, but they do," Lady May asseverated. 
 
 " Then why don't they come among us more to be 
 influenced ?" Miss Kingconstance asked. " Our power 
 threatens to die of atrophy for want of opportunities to 
 exercise it." 
 
 " I guess they find the good old-fashioned womanly 
 woman too deadly dull for anything," said Babs. 
 " That's why they keep away." 
 
 " Well, I know this," rumbled Mrs Japp, glancing at 
 her handsome daughter with an unlovely gleam in her 
 eye Florence was sitting next to Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 and exchanging confidential remarks with him " I 
 know this : the modern woman is not to be compared to 
 the woman of by-gone days." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Barbara. " I haven't a word to 
 say against those gentle ladies of a by-gone day who 
 sighed and submitted. They were excellent women in 
 their way. Some of them were great women of the kind 
 who come occasionally to show us what women should 
 be. And the bulk of them seem to have possessed every 
 estimable quality save one the one which would have 
 made it pleasant to live with them. I judge by those pa- 
 latial clubs which men, while extolling the virtues of 
 those same women, built everywhere to escape from their 
 society. Now, I understand that those palatial buildings 
 are being gradually deserted for the smaller mixed clubs 
 to which men come cordially to associate with the women 
 of to-day on equal terms." 
 
 " It is not because they respect them, then," snapped 
 Lady May. 
 
 " Pardon me," said Barbara. " I must differ from you 
 there. In days gone by there was a great deal of senti- 
 mentality on the subject of women ; but they received 
 
 343
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 very little respect. Not so very long ago no decent wom- 
 an could go out in London alone without fear of insult ; 
 now, I will undertake to say that a well-behaved woman 
 may go almost anywhere unmolested so greatly has 
 our position improved since we repudiated protection 
 and demanded respect." 
 
 " I am sick of the eternal woman question," said Lady 
 May. " No good can come of separating the interests 
 of the sexes." 
 
 " But it seems to me that the woman question is ceas- 
 ing to be the woman question exclusively/' said Miss 
 Kingconstance. 
 
 " Yes," said Barbara. " The modern woman believes 
 in herself ; but she believes in men also. She believes 
 in humanity at large ; she believes that the interests of 
 the sexes cannot be separated." 
 
 * The mistake men made in the old days was pre- 
 cisely that," said St. Lambert ; " they did separate the 
 interests of the sexes, and all humanity suffered." 
 
 * Well," said Barbara, " it is obvious that the woman 
 movement is having the opposite effect ; it is consoli- 
 dating the interests of the sexes, and uniting men and 
 women in their business and in their pleasure to an ex- 
 tent never before approached." 
 
 " And you think that's a good thing ?" said Mrs. Nor- 
 manton. 
 
 " Indeed, yes," Mr. Jellybond Tinney, whom she ad- 
 dressed, answered, absently, with his eyes on Barbara 
 Land. 
 
 Lady May reared her head at all this. She was supe- 
 rior to any argument but her own. 
 
 " There is one thing that always gives me cause to 
 ponder in regard to the equality of men and women," 
 Sir Owen said. " In all social relations women compare 
 favorably with men ; but in science, art, and literature 
 men remain supreme. There is no getting beyond the 
 
 344
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 fact of the very few women who have distinguished 
 themselves in those pursuits." 
 
 " That is true," said Barbara. " At the same time, 
 more women have distinguished themselves than men 
 in a state of subjection. ^Esop is the only slave I can 
 think of who distinguished himself in literature. A 
 subjugated race produces no great work of art ; why 
 do you expect a subjugated sex to produce more than a 
 subjugated race under similar circumstances ? So far, 
 woman has been the thrall of law and custom, and she 
 has only been able to indicate the possession of power. 
 But you will see that as soon as women begin to let them- 
 selves go in art, so soon as they cease to respect ham- 
 pering laws and try for the expression of fine ideas, they 
 will succeed." 
 
 Lady May and Mrs. Japp felt instinctively that the 
 only way to preserve their sense of superiority was to 
 shut their ears to anything that Miss Land had to say. 
 They had talked to each other while she was speaking, 
 and now they arose with one accord, and went off to- 
 gether in a tornado of truisms, leaving Ally Spice, Flor- 
 ence Japp, and Fanny Sturdy to follow together. 
 
 " What do you think of her ?" Fanny Sturdy asked, 
 excitedly, directly they were out of the house. 
 
 " I was wondering what we used to talk about what 
 we used to think of before she came !" Florence Japp 
 exclaimed, with her head in the air and her eyes spar- 
 kling with animation. 
 
 " If she's a New Woman," said little Miss Spice, breath- 
 lessly, picking up her skirts, pointing her toes, shaking 
 back her curls, and dancing along energetically " if 
 she's a New Woman, then make me one, too !" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney also went home in a whirl of 
 emotion. Barbara Land had, in a moment, upset every 
 calculation he had made in regard to himself. Passion 
 that was the word. He had made no allowance for 
 
 345
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 such a contingency ; but now, on a sudden, he found 
 himself overcome by passion a burning, absorbing, 
 reckless fit of it. 
 
 Barbara Land must be his ; by all the powers he 
 swore it. 
 
 346
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THERE was something wrong with Sir Owen St. 
 Lambert. Everybody noticed it. Housemaids 
 peeping through staircase windows on their 
 way up and down, saw him loitering about the 
 grounds, hands behind him, head on chest, lost in 
 thought. They remarked that Sir Owen seemed down 
 on his luck. The squire wondered what on earth 
 Owen was always thinking about ; he used to be good 
 company, but now he seemed strangely preoccupied, and 
 there was no getting a word out of him. Mrs. Norman- 
 ton had her own idea on the subject. It was love, she 
 opined, and the lady lived at Dane Court. 
 
 " Then it is embarras de choix that he is suffering from, 
 for there are five of 'em at Dane Court. Pity he can't 
 marry 'em all !" said the squire. 
 
 " My dear !" 
 
 Squire Normanton shrugged his shoulders, and went 
 off to see to his farms. He respected women much as he 
 did his stock, naturally preferring the finer-looking speci- 
 mens. In the sanctity of private life he called girls heif- 
 ers, and would much have preferred that they should be 
 treated like merchandise, as of old. 
 
 The primary cause of Sir Owen's trouble was the fact 
 that he was a very scrupulous, perfect gentleman, one 
 that habitually forbore his own advantage ; and, argue 
 with himself as he might, he could by no means make it 
 clear to his conscience that it would be the right thing 
 for a man of forty to propose to a girl of seventeen. 
 
 347
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 All about the country lanes he wandered, tramping 
 the wet leaves underfoot, the dead wet leaves, trying to 
 stifle the cry of his heart " that girl ! that girl !" 
 trying to subtract seventeen from forty and make the re- 
 mainder less. " If Babs had been otherwise brought up," 
 he said to himself, " it might have made a difference." 
 Then, at least, she would have had knowledge enough 
 to enable her to choose ; but as it was no, marrying a 
 girl who has the ideas of a babe on the subject of mar- 
 riage is taking a mean advantage, and he was not the 
 man to do that. 
 
 " She doesn't love me or anybody," he said to himself. 
 " She doesn't know what love is, but I could easily make 
 her think she loves me. That is what we do, we men ; 
 we are content to arouse all that is animal in such nat- 
 ures for our own satisfaction. And what happens after ? 
 The girl discovers when it is too late that her husband 
 is not the man she should have married. If Babs be- 
 came my wife and awoke afterwards to the fact that Ca- 
 denhouse was the only man she could have cared for 
 really and I rather suspect that that would be the case 
 what a cad I should feel forever." 
 
 Still, he hovered about her, not because he had any 
 definite intention, but just because he hadn't. Every 
 road he took in those days led to Dane Court. Over 
 and over again he set off in quite the opposite direction ; 
 but always, before the day was out, he found himself 
 circling about, and, if he did not actually go up to the 
 house, he at all events skirted it. In these wanderings 
 he frequently fell in with Mr. Jellybond Tinney. The 
 two would not ordinarily have had much in common ; 
 but the pilgrims of love claim kinship whenever 
 they meet in any sort of intimacy. They cannot dis- 
 guise themselves from each other. A secret sign is set 
 upon them, and a signal passes between them involun- 
 tarily which draws them together, however antagonistic 
 
 348
 
 BABS THE IMPQSSIBL E 
 
 in other respects their natures may be. Half the joy of 
 love lies in the discussion of it ; and even unhappy love 
 has that delight. 
 
 St. Lambert tore himself away from the neighborhood 
 several times, but invariably returned. The hunting 
 and shooting were his excuse; but that winter was 
 never afterwards associated in his mind with hunting 
 and shooting. With the recollection of it there would 
 recur to him the balmy brightness of frosty mornings, 
 brown branches hung with crystal rain-drops, dark fore- 
 grounds of Scotch firs glorified by the red radiance of 
 happy sunsets ; and, underfoot, dead leaves damp upon 
 the narrow footways ; then the big warm rooms at Dane 
 Court, lamplit, where tea was served to lovely music, 
 and all was ease and grace and smiling welcome. Many 
 a time did he and Mr. Jellybond Tinney walk thither 
 together, scarcely exchanging a word by the way, yet 
 quite in touch ; and return in the crisp, clear moonlight, 
 both in a silent ecstasy, impossible to define yet per- 
 fectly comprehended, and, for that very reason, forming 
 a bond of union more subtly strong than any other form 
 of friendship. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney's place was on the direct road 
 from Normanton to Dane Court, and St. Lambert picked 
 him up sometimes as he passed the gate. 
 
 " Fine day," he said, on one of these occasions. " Go- 
 ing for a constitutional ?" 
 
 " I was thinking of it," Mr. Jellybond Tinney an- 
 swered, looking at the weather undecidedly, like a sailor 
 in doubt about the breeze. 
 
 " I was thinking of going up to Dane Court," St. Lam- 
 bert remarked. " You'd better come, too. We should 
 about catch them at tea." 
 
 " Well, since you suggest it," Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 agreed, and then, glancing at his own most careful 
 get-up, " but am I right for ladies' society ?" 
 
 349
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ; " Right ? Why, you'd be trim at a garden-party." 
 
 They walked on together. 
 
 11 1 was thinking about that boy Montacute as I came 
 along," St. Lambert said. " He's a handful, or I'm 
 much mistaken." 
 
 * Er yes," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. " He is, I 
 have reason to know. And, by a curious coincidence, 
 I've been thinking about him myself this afternoon. 
 Something must be done with him. It is a pity he has 
 no father." 
 
 " Yes," St. Lambert answered, thoughtfully. " Women 
 of his mother's school were never much good at bringing 
 up boys. I always think of Mrs. Pendennis. What a 
 happy touch that was ! Loving him, praying for him, 
 admiring him, believing in him, suffering agonies of 
 self-denial for his benefit, and letting him go to the 
 devil for want of a word." 
 
 * But," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, dubiously, " do 
 you think a woman could manage a lad like that ?" 
 
 " No not manage. Modern mothers do better than 
 that. They show the lads how to manage themselves. 
 Just compare Mrs. Kingconstance with Barbara Land " 
 
 " There is no comparison !" Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 interrupted, stepping out with the spring of youth in his 
 gait and surveying the prospect with the pride of a joy- 
 ous lover. 
 
 St. Lambert looked about him, too, as if he expected 
 some acknowledgment from nature of her best-beloved 
 mood. He did not connect these elderly ecstasies with 
 Barbara Land, however. He thought it was the widow 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney pursued. 
 
 When they arrived at Dane Court they found Bar- 
 bara Land and Babs in the hall with their out-door 
 things on. 
 
 " We have just come in from a stroll about the grounds," 
 said Babs. " Barbara's tired of it, but I haven't yet had 
 
 35
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 half walking enough. I want to go and see Miss Spice ; 
 will you come with me ?" 
 
 She looked at St. Lambert invitingly. They had not 
 been out alone together since the day of Barbara's ar- 
 rival. He hesitated ; then fell to the temptation. 
 
 " Seventeen from forty," he reasoned, in excuse of him- 
 self. " It's safe enough." 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Babs. " I've something to 
 show you something I have to give you as a reward of 
 merit." 
 
 She darted away up-stairs, and came running down 
 again with a packet in her hand, from which she drew a 
 fine photograph of herself. 
 
 " It was done in Paris," she said, " and I have had it 
 enlarged for you. I knew you would like to have it." 
 
 She looked at it herself complacently. 
 
 " There's nobody like me, is there ? Nobody half so 
 nice ! I look at myself with the greatest pleasure. 
 Everybody's in love with that picture. But the nui- 
 sance of it is that I feel detached from it somehow. If 
 I could quite believe that it was me 1" 
 
 She hugged herself. 
 
 St. Lambert had taken the picture, and was gazing 
 at it intently. 
 
 Barbara looked at him and stifled a sigh. 
 
 " Mrs. Kingconstance has not yet returned from her 
 drive," she said to Mr. Jelly bond Tinney. " What would 
 you like to do ? Will you come into the drawing-room 
 and wait for her, or will you stroll round the grounds 
 with me ?" 
 
 " The drawing-room, if you please," said Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney. " heard it said that you were tired." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney and Miss Land had come to an 
 understanding very early in their acquaintance. It hap- 
 pened at one of those informal gatherings at the Cross 
 Roads Cottage when the neighborhood, hungry for tea,
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 fell upon Miss Spice's scanty store and left it depleted. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney had appeared for a short time and 
 delighted the ladies with some characteristic remarks. 
 He had been in unusually good form, the presence of 
 Barbara Land having inspired him so that he forgot 
 himself and worked his peculiar vein unrestrainedly. 
 
 Barbara had listened until she was so exasperated 
 that she could not contain herself. 
 
 " Isn't he original ?" Miss Spice, in a flutter, had 
 asked of the universe after one of his most audacious 
 sallies. 
 
 " Mr. Jellybond Tinney is laughing at us/' said Bar- 
 bara Land. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond, of course, protested, but Barbara would 
 not argue the point, and he was obliged to let it drop. 
 
 The next time he saw her alone he returned to the 
 subject, renewing his protests. 
 
 " It is no use, Mr. Jellybond Tinney, " Barbara said 
 to him, bluntly. * I am a woman of the new type. I 
 know the world I have to live in. Your tactics may 
 answer with the poor ladies you have hitherto encoun- 
 tered in these wilds, but they are worse than useless 
 with me, they are ridiculous." 
 
 " You take my little jokes too seriously, Miss Land, 
 indeed you do," Mr Jellybond Tinney remonstrated. 
 " I assure you I am the only real amusement the ladies 
 about here have. But if you object, I will never buffoon 
 for any of them again." 
 
 " Oh, pray, Mr. Jellybond Tinney !" Barbara ex- 
 claimed, washing her hands both of him and his 
 ladies with an expressive gesture. 
 
 But this was the beginning of a good understanding 
 between them. Without thinking much of Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney, Barbara began to like him rather. He 
 was always kindly considerate of her. Of his passion 
 she had as yet no suspicion. But the whole atmosphere 
 
 352
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 of the house was charged with passion, and, when that is 
 the case, all who are in the least susceptible come under 
 the beneficent part of its influence insensibly, to the ex- 
 tent, at all events, of being at their best with their f ellow- 
 creatures. Passion, apart from its special object, is as 
 generous as it is evanescent ; it bestows something of it- 
 self on others by every channel open to friendly feeling. 
 
 When they were seated in the drawing-room, Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney looked about him. 
 
 " It is some years now since I first entered this room," 
 he said ; " and I have lived through a good many emo- 
 tions in the time. I have been here often enough, too, 
 and the aspect of everything should be familiar ; but, 
 somehow, lately " again he looked about him " the 
 place is not the same." 
 
 " 1 hope the change is for the better, at all events," 
 said Barbara Land, pleased, in spite of herself, that Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney, who posed habitually with every- 
 body else, should be simply sincere with her. 
 
 " I don't know," he said. " It has taken the lustre 
 from luxury, the change, whatever it is. For the best 
 part of my life I pursued this kind of thing " he glanced 
 round the beautiful apartment " my great ambition 
 was to possess. And the first time I came in here I 
 skipped about like a schoolboy. I felt the texture of the 
 draperies, velvet and satin and brocade ; I knelt on the 
 silk Persian carpets and stroked them ; I fingered the 
 china and those heavy, handsome frames, and I said to 
 myself, ' At last ! at last!'" 
 
 " But why at last ?" said Barbara. 
 
 " I was being received at last as an equal by the class 
 to which such things are the common comforts of every- 
 day life. I need not tell you, Miss Land, I am afraid 
 that I have not always belonged to your class." 
 
 There was inquiry in his voice, and he waited for a 
 reply. Barbara felt forced to answer, but she hesitated. 
 z 353
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I will say this for you, Mr. Jellybond Tinney," she 
 said, at last, " if you are a self-made man, you have 
 made yourself well by reason of certain ideals of which 
 you now and then give one a glimpse, the ideals of gen- 
 tlehood, which I know you hold. It is for want of 
 those ideals that the nouveau riche is such a detestable 
 person as a rule." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney's countenance glowed. 
 
 * But doubtless you noticed a remnant of the com- 
 mercial manner," he ventured ; " a certain uneasiness 
 in association with your own class, born partly of the 
 consciousness of a difference of position and partly of 
 the habit of getting the best of a bargain and the fear 
 of being found out." 
 
 " No, I noticed nothing of that kind," said Barbara. 
 " If you were a commercial man, it was honorable com- 
 merce, which is compatible with the most generous and 
 elevated sentiments. But that uneasiness you speak 
 of, there is deprecation in it. I believe it is more often 
 than anything the outcome of a sensitive shrinking 
 from the insolent airs which ill-bred people of the upper 
 classes are apt to give themselves. Their imperti- 
 nences are so many cowardly blows to the self-respect 
 of the man who serves them cowardly because they 
 know he cannot resent them." 
 
 " You are a democrat, I perceive, Miss Land," Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney observed. 
 
 " I hope to live to see the institution of the cultivation, 
 in all classes, of common politeness," said Barbara Land. 
 " I sometimes think that the best manners are preserved 
 in the shops at present." 
 
 " You were speaking about the ideals of gentlehood," 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney said. " It is only by very slow 
 degrees that I have arrive^ at those ideals. I did not 
 hold them when I first came here. But I was intelligent 
 enough to know I had associated with gentlemen 
 
 354
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 enough to discover that there was a radical difference 
 between their habits of mind and mine, and I set myself 
 to observe to find out what that difference might be, 
 for I was determined to conquer the difficulty. I was 
 determined not only to pass for a gentleman, but to be a 
 gentleman. As it happened, I fell in with the right sort 
 of people here for my purpose. There was Squire Nor- 
 manton, a pretty rough specimen of gentlehood ; but I 
 noticed that he pulled up* at lying. There was the vicar 
 a saint as well as a gentleman. When I first knew 
 him I was disheartened ; but I soon discovered that I 
 might be a gentleman without being a saint. I didn't 
 want to be a saint at that time." 
 
 Miss Land's gravity was only just proof against the 
 comical earnestness with which this was said. 
 
 * Whv didn't you want to be a saint at that time ?" 
 she asked, with genuine interest. 
 
 * Oh, well honestly, because of the cakes and ale," 
 he answered. " My nature is pleasure -loving, and, at 
 that time, it seemed to me that to be a saint one must 
 set one's self to show one's Creator that He was to blame 
 for having given one a capacity for pleasure. Then I 
 began to see that it is not pleasure in itself, but the choice 
 of pleasures, that matters. Nature pleads in us for cer- 
 tain pleasures " 
 
 " But we are not living 1 in a state of nature," Barbara 
 put in. 
 
 " No. But Nature is still chairman of the committee 
 of which we are composed. If we were left to Nature 
 alone, of course we should commit excesses for which 
 we should have to suffer ; intelligence, properly trained, 
 steps in to prevent that. Our intelligence says hold 
 enough when 1'' 
 
 " How about our principles ?' 
 
 * 1 was coming to that. That is my last discovery. 
 Intelligence is not enough. To make a gentleman 
 
 355
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 principle must weigh with intelligence, and the two to- 
 gether influence the choice of pleasures." 
 
 " But not the choice of pleasures only," said Barbara. 
 " There are duties to be considered ; although," she add- 
 ed, " it is hard to draw the line between the two. Duties 
 may be unpleasant in the doing ; but when they are 
 done something pleasant results." 
 
 " I shall remember that," he said. 
 
 * It always seems to me that Sincerity is the one word 
 we want for our direction in social intercourse," said 
 Barbara. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " Cadenhouse and St. Lambert 
 have taught me that. I noticed that their courtesies 
 were sincerely meant, and not a thin screen assumed 
 for interested motives, and sure to be set aside upon the 
 slightest provocations, like the courtesies of a shop- 
 walker in a dispute with a suspicious customer." 
 
 " Sir Owen is a new acquaintance of yours ?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, quick to see what she had in her 
 mind. " I have hardly had time to apply my last dis- 
 covery ; but I have done my best to make a habit of the 
 others, and I hope to make a habit of this one, too." 
 
 Barbara reflected a little. 
 
 " What you tell me is very interesting, Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney," she said. " Would it be indiscreet if, for that 
 reason, I ventured to ask a question ? Do you owe 
 nothing to women ?" 
 
 " I owe them all my pleasure in life," he answered, 
 fervently. 
 
 " I don't mean that," said Barbara. " I mean, have 
 they helped you the women of my class in the same 
 way that men have done ?" 
 
 " Only one has two. Miss Kingconstance has 
 hurled a hint at me sometimes, in her peculiar w T ay, by 
 which I have profited. But she has become a case of 
 head without heart a case of Nature thwarted, if I am 
 
 356
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 not very much mistaken. Head without heart goes but 
 a very little way in this world." 
 
 " And the other lady ; how has she helped you ?" 
 
 " Oh, she has helped me, and helped me enormously, 
 just by being herself. The others were the slaves of 
 convention ; they did and said and thought, for good or 
 for evil; just what was expected of them. The lady who 
 has helped me does and says and thinks for herself, and 
 doesn't care a rap for any convention so long as her own 
 high-mindedness is satisfied that there is nothing wrong 
 in what she chooses to do." 
 
 " She must be a fine character," said Barbara, casting 
 about in her mind for such a person in that neighbor- 
 hood, and naively unconscious of the fact that she her- 
 self was the woman he meant. 
 
 " Women have always treated me well," he resumed, 
 after a pause ; " better, perhaps, than I have treated 
 them. ' That troubles me now. It is true that I have 
 nothing very serious on my conscience with regard to 
 them. I may have taken advantage of the fact that I 
 knew them better than they knew themselves ; but, 
 until lately, I got out of that by considering them as 
 much free agents as I was. Now, I am not sure that 
 that was fair. In fact, to be quite honest, I am sure it 
 was not fair. It was customary. That is why it troubles 
 me now. I have a horrid suspicion that every act has 
 its compensation in kind ; our good deeds make good 
 times for us, and our bad deeds breed misfortunes. I 
 have seen people suffer, too, as if punishment were cu- 
 mulative. The sinner succeeded all along the line until 
 he tried for the great desire of his heart ; but that he 
 lost." 
 
 The sound of carriage wheels became audible at this 
 moment, and, immediately afterwards, Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance, looking as well as a woman can look hideously 
 smothered in sables, came into the room, followed by 
 
 357
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Julia. She had hides and heads and tails of dead 
 creatures all over her, displayed regardless of art as of 
 expense ; the whole effect being, not to strike the observer 
 with admiration, but to make him wonder what she had 
 paid for the disfigurement. She was a walking adver- 
 tisement of the amount of her own credit at the bank. 
 
 Mr. Jelly bond Tinney dropped involuntarily into his 
 usual elaborate pose as he arose to receive her ; and 
 Barbara observed that he was a very different person 
 from the one with whom she had just been conversing. 
 She did not accuse him of insincerity ; but it was hard 
 to decide between the two, the old affectation and the new 
 ideal, which was or rather which would be the genu- 
 ine Jellybond Tinney.
 
 1W 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 [EANWHILE Babs and St. Lambert had gone 
 on by the lonely way through the wood to call 
 on Ally Spice. St. Lambert was burdened by 
 a heavy basket of good things which Babs was 
 taking to Ally. 
 
 When they were out of sight of the house, Babs slipped 
 her arm through his arm confidingly. A strange sense 
 of ease and relief swept through him at the gentle con- 
 tact ; and he smiled down at her, the great yearning 
 ache that had been in him so long now satisfied for the 
 moment. 
 
 " I've been wanting to see you again so much," said 
 Babs " to see you like this, I mean. I don't see you 
 properly when other people are by. I don't know what's 
 come over me lately ; I feel lonely all the time. Never 
 before did I know what it meant to be lonely." 
 
 " But now that you have Barbara " he began. 
 
 * Oh, of course," she interrupted, " there are plenty of 
 people, but they don't seem to signify. It distracts me 
 for a little to go from one to another, worrying them ; 
 but I feel lonely all the time. No one satisfies me now 
 but you." 
 
 " Then you are not making a confidante of Barbara ?" 
 he said. He had noticed already that she gave her con- 
 fidence only at unexpected moments. 
 
 " Of course not," said Babs. " One doesn't talk about 
 one's real self to everybody." 
 
 359
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 They walked on some little way in silence, then St. 
 Lambert said : 
 
 " I hoped that you would have cared for Barbara and 
 confided in her." 
 
 * Does that mean that you don't want to be bothered 
 with my confidence ?" 
 
 She clasped both hands round his arm and looked up 
 in his face. He noticed every detail of hers the deli- 
 cate oval, the sensitive mouth with red lips parted enough 
 to show the little white, even teeth ; the delicate brows 
 and limpid eyes, all innocent of self-consciousness as a 
 child's. Her whole mind was set upon unravelling the 
 mysterious puzzle which life had become to her ; all of 
 herself that came into the effort was objective. 
 
 " I wish I could be sure," slipped from him unawares. 
 
 "Sure of what?" 
 
 * Sure of which of whom you will love in the end, 
 when you are a woman." 
 
 " Sure of which, you mean. Why did you correct 
 yourself ? You want to know you were thinking of 
 Cadenhouse " (he noticed her hesitation at the name) 
 " and of" 
 
 * Myself," he said. 
 
 She dropped his arm, and walked on in silence beside 
 him a little, considering. 
 
 " I love you both/' she said, " but differently. There 
 has never been a moment in my life when I didn't love 
 Cadenhouse ; that is always going on, you know. But 
 I have had other loves in between. You are the prin- 
 cipal one. Indeed, I'm not sure now which of the two 
 I care for most." 
 
 " If you were asked to choose between us ?" 
 
 " Which I would marry ? Well, I don't think I could 
 if choosing one meant giving the other up. I want you 
 both. I should like to have Cadenhouse for my Sun- 
 day lover and you for my everyday one. I should like to 
 
 360
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 make Cadenhouse break his Sabbath occasionally ; for 
 it has been all Sabbath with Cadenhouse. It wasn't 
 Sabbath though, when " 
 
 She was going to say when she kissed him, but stop- 
 ped short ; the fine intuitive delicacy of awakening 
 womanhood checking her for the first time. 
 
 " Do you know," she said, after a long pause, " it's a 
 curious thing, but I could no more go again for comfort 
 or anything else to Cadenhouse than I could fly. Why, 
 I wonder ?" 
 
 " You are growing up, Babs," St. Lambert said. " Only 
 children can be forgiven for such escapades." 
 
 Babs saw the reproof. 
 
 " That was delicately done," she said, admiringly. 
 " It didn't hurt a bit. But don't be afraid to blame me 
 frankly when you think me to blame. The risk of these 
 delicate subtleties is that one is not sure to see the 
 point." 
 
 " I wish you were older, Babs," he sighed. 
 
 " I feel much older," she said. " Cadenhouse's anger 
 was an agonizing experience to begin with, and his ab- 
 sence has been more agonizing still. I have been feeling 
 humiliated somehow ; I can't tell how ; but you are 
 making me feel myself again. You did that before 
 while I was with you. Do you remember that day in the 
 carriage when you told me he had gone ? At first all my 
 machinery went whirling round and round. Then I was 
 conscious of being furiously miserable isn't that a 
 funny expression ? I never thought of it before, but it 
 is just what I mean. I was both furious and miserable. 
 I should like to have battered my own skull in to relieve 
 the pain here " she clasped her hands on her chest. " I 
 pretended to be philosophical I don't know if I imposed 
 upon you. But if you had not petted me, I should have 
 done something desperate." 
 
 " You refused Cadenhouse and gave him no choice 
 
 361
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 but to go ; and then you were hurt because he went, it 
 seems to me." 
 
 " Precisely," she answered, candidly. " How clever 
 you are ! But why do you wish that I was older ?" 
 
 " Because, if you were, I might suppose that you 
 knew your own mind, and then I should ask you to 
 marry me." 
 
 " Would you ?" said Babs. " Now that would be nice 
 of you. Then, if I married you, when I was miserable 
 I should always have you at hand to talk to as I did that 
 day in the carriage. That was a great relief." 
 
 " You would marry me in order to be able to talk about 
 Cadenhouse," he observed. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, absently. " And to be petted, 
 you know. The only time I ever forgot him for a mo- 
 ment was when you petted me." 
 
 They walked on together side by side on the narrow 
 woodland path in silence. Babs had fallen to analyz- 
 ing her own emotions. St. Lambert was a prey to temp- 
 tation. 
 
 They were deep in the wood by this time. The boles 
 of the tall Scotch firs marked with dark streaks the ruby 
 sunset glowing behind them ; their heavy plumes stood 
 out in distinct relief against it. The color was passing 
 in swift gradations from shade to shade of loveliness. 
 There were delicate odors of pine in the air, and from 
 the moist earth uprose those scents which tell their tale 
 of the year's increase. 
 
 " We never see sunsets like that in the tropics/' 
 St. Lambert said. " The suspicion of frost in the air 
 strengthens the color, somehow, and sharpens the out- 
 lines of the trees into peculiar distinctness. Look at the 
 needles of those firs ; they are like lace against the 
 crimson." 
 
 " But I suppose your old tropics have a charm of 
 their own," said Babs, indifferently. 
 
 362
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Yes/' he answered. " At Wondah it is the wealth 
 of flowers and foliage plants." 
 
 " Wondah is your place out there, isn't it ?" She 
 vaguely indicated the east with a nod of her head. 
 " Why did you call it Wondah ?" 
 
 " Just after it was built a native prince came to see 
 me/' he told her ; " and when he saw the place he ex- 
 claimed, ' It is a wondah !' meaning wonder ; and it 
 has been called so ever since." 
 
 " It is a lovely place, then ?" 
 
 " Yes. Without boasting, I think I may say so." 
 
 " I should like to see it," said Babs. " I wish you 
 would marry Barbara, or somebody, and take me out 
 with you." 
 
 " Or marry you and take Barbara out," he responded. 
 
 He could not keep away from the subject. 
 
 Babs sang out, laughingly : 
 
 " I'm ower young to marry yet, 
 I'm far too young to marry yet, 
 I'm ower young, I'm far too young 
 To take me from me mammy yet." 
 
 St. Lambert's face contracted. 
 
 " That jarred," said Babs. " I'm sorry. But why did 
 it jar?" 
 
 She slipped her hand through his arm again. 
 
 The path through the wood was visible, winding 
 ahead of them. He looked along it as if measuring the 
 distance they had yet to traverse. 
 
 " Do you wish you were out of the wood ?" said 
 Babs. 
 
 " I do," he answered " in more senses of the word 
 than one." 
 
 " Well, that's nice of you !" she exclaimed. " I bring 
 you for a delightful walk, I do my best to amuse you, 
 and you but perhaps you're subject to satanic moods." 
 
 363
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I owe you an apology, Babs," St. Lambert said. 
 " I'm not myself to-day. Something is troubling me." 
 
 " Might one help to dissipate the trouble ?" said Babs. 
 
 " The trouble is the difference between seventeen and 
 forty. It is, I fear, an insurmountable trouble." 
 
 He looked at Babs as he spoke, but she was not at- 
 tending to him. 
 
 " What a bore for you," she said, in a perfunctory tone, 
 thinking of something else. 
 
 " What made you go and live in the East ?" she asked, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " I wanted something to do after I left the service, and 
 tea-planting allured me." 
 
 Babs yawned. 
 
 " I ought to apologize, too," she said. " I'm as flat 
 to-day as you are. I got up too early. Tea will be 
 most acceptable, as Ally Spice would say. I expect you 
 find that basket heavy. It's crammed with good things." 
 
 " Do you always take your tea when you go to see 
 your friends ?" he asked. 
 
 " Always when I go to see Ally Spice," she replied. 
 " I get a fit of her sometimes. I've got one now. I feel 
 I must go and see her. She does me good." 
 
 " Is she a confidante of yours, then ?" 
 
 " Confidante, no. I don't make confidantes of wom- 
 en. I wouldn't be bothered with a woman as a con- 
 fidante. They don't take one out of one's self as a man 
 does. I have confided in Ally sometimes used her as 
 a target to talk at, you know. She's sympathetic. And 
 in that way I got out of myself. That's my complaint 
 against women friends. I can take them out of them- 
 selves, but they can't take me. I much prefer a man. 
 Julia and Meg Normanton are always strolling about 
 together with their arms round each other, talking non- 
 sense. I talk a prodigious amount of nonsense too, of 
 course, but then I know it's nonsense, and they don't." 
 
 364.
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " How did the basket for Miss Spice become an insti- 
 tution ?" St. Lambert asked. 
 
 " Once long ago/' Babs began, reluctantly, " I went 
 to see Ally, and there wasn't bread enough. I hardly 
 like to tell you. It makes me feel ashamed. Don't you 
 know ? don't you feel it ? feel that there is something 
 shocking in the fact that there w r asn't enough bread 
 bread even ! enough ! That's the kind of thing that 
 gives me positive pain when I think of it ; and that's 
 why I never will think of it if I can help it. Physical 
 pain I can bear pretty well if I set myself to bear it ; but 
 I can't bear that sort of thing. When I thought Mon- 
 tacute was dying " 
 
 She stopped short, and dropped behind to wipe her 
 eyes. 
 
 " The path isn't wide enough for two here/' she said. 
 " You lead the way." 
 
 He walked on ahead. 
 
 " You see," Babs resumed, " however much one is de- 
 termined to have a good time and never think of painful 
 things they will recur to one. Can't you charm the 
 pain away ? You haven't petted me at all to-day." 
 
 " If I ever pet you again, Babs," he said, " I shall not 
 stop until you promise to marry me." 
 
 " Gracious !" Babs exclaimed. " What a prospect !" 
 She considered a moment. " Somehow," she said, se- 
 riously, " that offends me that remark of yours ; I 
 cannot tell how or why." 
 
 " I can, Babs," St. Lambert answered, grimly ; " and 
 I make you a present of the information for your future 
 guidance. When a thing like that offends you, it is be- 
 cause the wrong man says it." 
 
 365
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 ISS SPICE was in a tremendous flutter that af- 
 ternoon. Having at last arrived at what she 
 assured herself was really the happiest mo- 
 ment of her life, she was by way of doing a 
 great deal to express her delight. She kept up a per- 
 petual twittering, like a sparrow on a spout, and there 
 was a perpetual smile on her face as she flew about the 
 house, with her tresses flying and every other appear- 
 ance of cheerful industry. She carried a cup and saucer 
 into one room, and a plate and spoon into another not 
 that either was wanted ; but what did that matter ? 
 She meant to show that she was not a useless dandilly, 
 but an energetic and capable woman ; and as she went 
 through the movements that indicate the character, 
 she never doubted but that she was making the impres- 
 sion she desired. Her good aunt advised her again and 
 again to go and sit down and not get in the way ; but 
 Miss Spice chose to consider this merely a manoeuvre of 
 the good aunt, who, in the matter of work, never played 
 fair, her habit being to take upon herself the larger share. 
 Accordingly Ally redoubled her efforts, undeterred by 
 the exasperated old lady's oft-muttered conviction that 
 she was certainly getting flighty beyond everything. 
 
 The cause of all this jubilation was the arrival of a 
 young Irish nephew of hers, all that was left to her now 
 of her only brother. He had just finished a brilliant 
 university career in Dublin, and was taking a look round 
 hunting up unknown relations, and hoping to find 
 
 366
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 friends to help him on in the world. Guy Spice was a 
 big fellow himself, but his clothes were always much 
 bigger than he was. He knew a great deal of mathe- 
 matics, but was pretty generally supposed to be a blun- 
 derer in all matters social ; yet there were some who 
 suspected that he was not such an innocent as he chose 
 to appear. His hair was coarse and black. Although 
 ugly, with the exception of his eyes fine, expressive, 
 dark-blue eyes, in which there was always a merry 
 twinkle and a certain massiveness of forehead which 
 betokened intellectual capacity, his face habitualty wore 
 an expression of such genuine good-nature that to see 
 him was to like him. 
 
 Poor little Miss Spice's cup of delight would have 
 been quite full for sure that day but for one thing the 
 larder was empty. It was the principle of their lives at 
 the Cross Roads Cottage to pay ready money for every- 
 thing. " In that way we keep going," Miss Spice said, 
 confidentially, to the Japps, whose days were often dark- 
 ened by unpaid bills. " We pay our pennies as we go 
 along, you know, and when we have no pennies we just 
 do without. I believe there are people who get things 
 when they want them, and pay for them when they can ; 
 but it's a mistake, my dear, I'm sure it's a mistake. 
 There are the poor tradespeople, you know, to be con- 
 sidered. They have to pay their way, too ; and how 
 are they to pay their way if we do not ?" 
 
 This was unfortunately one of the days when they 
 had no pennies, their little dividends not being due till 
 the end of the week ; and how they were to starve ac- 
 cording to their principles and at the same time acquit 
 themselves of the sacred rites of hospitality was the 
 question. There was scarcely tea and bread and butter 
 enough in the house for that afternoon ; and all that 
 they could collect from their combined finances was 
 elevenpence-halfpenny. 
 
 367
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " It '11 have to be tick this time," Mrs. Sophia Pepper 
 declared, "or selling something, or borrowing." 
 
 " No, no," said Miss Spice, lifting her heroic little half- 
 starved face. " Something will happen, / don't want 
 anything, you know. I'm not at all hungry." 
 
 " I wish I'd the same tale to tell," the old lady muttered. 
 " I suppose I can live on my own fat for the next few 
 days ; but that don't prevent the sinkings here " and 
 she spread her work-worn palm on her ample stomach. 
 
 Miss Spice retired to her chamber, bolted the door, 
 went down on her knees, raised her clasped hands to the 
 bright blue strip of sky that showed through the little 
 lattice window, and prayed : " Lord, Lord, have mercy 
 upon us, help us, succor us send somebody with food !" 
 
 In uttering the petition, she thought involuntarily of 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinnej 7 . He, honest man, kept quite a 
 number of poor ladies well supplied, not only with the 
 luxuries the rich are so fond of giving, but also with the 
 necessaries that are so much more required. Poor ladies 
 were his pet charity. But he took no credit to himself 
 for his kindnesses to them never thought of these kind- 
 nesses a second time, in fact, except to repeat them. 
 Being a methodical and businesslike man, he kept a 
 sort of rough diary of these donations, in which were 
 such items as : 
 
 " October 14 : Pheasants to the following ladies 
 Japp, Spice, Hardy. Six tins of soup each." 
 
 " December 15 : Florence Japp. Gloves very shabby. 
 Six pair from Paris peau de Suede. Must lose a bet." 
 
 " 22d inst. : Ally Spice looks pinched. Wants good 
 food. Fiction about having beef and mutton sent me. 
 Begged her to share it in order to save waste. Also six 
 bottles of Burgundy." 
 
 It was late in the morning that despair seized upon 
 
 368
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Miss Spice ; but she came down from her devotions 
 much relieved ; and then began that fluttering and 
 bustling which was such a source of irritation to Aunt 
 Sophia. She settled herself in the drawing-room at last, 
 about afternoon tea-time, and looked out, in prayerful 
 expectation ; for the little soul of Miss Spice contained 
 the largest faith in the countryside. 
 
 When she saw Babs approaching with St. Lambert 
 and the basket she couldn't contain herself. 
 
 " Now, Lord be thanked !" she exclaimed. " I knew 
 it ! I knew it ! I knew it 1" And every time she said 
 " I knew it !" she jumped up into the air. 
 
 Her nephew watched the performance, but made no 
 remark. He had not been in England before. 
 
 Babs paused at the gate and looked round. 
 
 " How very much the same the place seems," she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Was it likely to be altered since you saw it ?" St. 
 Lambert asked. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " because the aspect of so many 
 other things has altered since 1 was here." 
 
 " Things in the abstract, you mean," he said " not 
 material things." 
 
 But things in the abstract were a bother to Babs. 
 
 " My only objection to you is that you will try to make 
 me think," she said. " Forbear ! and give me the basket. 
 Go into the room on the right, please the drawing- 
 room and don't break anything. I'm going to the 
 kitchen." 
 
 Mrs. Sophia Pepper, not being of the same class as 
 Ally's father, never appeared when visitors were there. 
 Babs found her stooping over the kitchen grate, picking 
 up cinders from the hearth and putting them under the 
 kettle to persuade it to boil with half the fuel necessary. 
 From her shoulders the ends of a rusty black shawl de- 
 pended, sweeping the fender every time she stooped. 
 2 A 369
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She always put on that shawl for comfort when she was 
 wrestling with sinkings in the broad expanse of which 
 she had complained earlier in the day. She did not look 
 round when Babs entered, mistaking her step for Ally's. 
 
 " There you come jigging back," she exclaimed. 
 " Why on earth don't you stay in your drawing-room 
 to match your Chippendale chairs with your spindle 
 shanks ! Chippendale was invented to go with riggers 
 like j^ours in the days when ladies professed to live on 
 light and laughter. Those old workmen just suited 
 their out-put to all that there was of a woman at that 
 time a feeble frame, a stiff back, and the pride of the 
 devil." 
 
 " Personally, I don't care to feel small," said Babs. 
 " When I compare myself to the universe, I don't feel 
 any pride in an attenuated body. Nor shall I shirk my 
 food for the sake of my figure, nor squeeze a foot, nor 
 cramp a hand. I'm here to have my own idea of a good 
 time not to conform to the idiotcies honored by other 
 people." 
 
 Mrs. Sophia Pepper started and turned round at the 
 sound of her voice. Babs, as she spoke, went up to her, 
 and insisted on shaking her by her cinder- soiled hand. 
 
 " Don't you snub me, Mrs. Sophia Pepper," she pur- 
 sued. " I've come to be comforted. I have a feeling 
 of things gone wrong do you know what that is ?" 
 
 " Do I know what anything else is ?" the old lady 
 growled, with her hungry eyes on the eatables which 
 Babs was putting on the kitchen table. 
 
 " Well," said Babs, " it's a poor heart that never re- 
 joices, and I've got a good appetite, that's one comfort. 
 Don't say you haven't, please, for I can't eat alone. 
 That's why I've brought my tea here." 
 
 Miss Spice came fluttering in at this moment with her 
 hands in the air. 
 
 " Oh, my dear," she said " chicken 1 tongue ! Pdt4
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 de foie gras ! dinner rolls ! butter ! tea ! cakes ! Sugar !" 
 and at every exclamation she jumped up into the air. 
 
 " It's a surprise party," said Babs " a picnic for Sir 
 Owen." 
 
 * But did you know, my dear, did you know, that we 
 have a visitor ? A young man I My nephew, Guy 
 Spice come from Ireland ! You didn't know I was an 
 aunt ! Not that there is so very much difference in our 
 ages," she hastened to add, with the precaution of a wom- 
 an whose only hope is dependent on age and appear- 
 ance. " I've never felt so glad since I was in London." 
 
 Guy Spice's lines had not hitherto fallen in the pleas- 
 ant places where lords and ladies most do congregate, 
 but he was not one to be easily abashed. 
 
 " One man's as good as another, and a great deal bet- 
 ter," was the phrase he used to express his respect for all 
 and sundry who might deserve it, irrespective of class. 
 He was therefore at his modest ease with Miss Spice's 
 guests, rather to her surprise but much to her admira- 
 tion, for she had half expected him to be awkward. 
 
 " Shall I be afther givin' ye a bit of cake, Sir Owen ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Thank you, I won't trouble you," St. Lambert an- 
 swered, absently. 
 
 " Oh, the trouble's a pleasure, sor ; but help yourself," 
 Mr. Spice replied. He found that his aunt expected him 
 to speak Irish, and he was doing his best to prevent dis- 
 appointment. " Me aunt tells me ye live in furrin parts, 
 sor," he pursued. " Is it nice it is out there now ? Mic 
 Magowan went to Australia, but he came back sharp. 
 I asked him what it was like at all at all, and he ses, 
 ' Oh, Guy, me boy/ ses he, ' but it's a foine place to 
 live out of.' But mebbe you're not in Australia, Sir 
 Owen." 
 
 , " Not at present," St. Lambert answered. " I'm in the 
 East."
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 BabvS caught a twinkle in the Irishman's eye, and 
 noticed from that moment that he and St. Lambert were 
 in touch. 
 
 " Will there be an opening in your part of the world for 
 a promising young man of the clerical persuasion, d' ye 
 think ?" Guy asked. 
 
 " Oh, Guy !" fluttered Miss Spice, " you would never 
 think of going away to one of those dreadful climates 1" 
 
 " I'd be glad of the chance/' he replied. "And as to 
 dreadful look at Sir Owen there !" 
 
 " Oh, but think, with all those letters after your name ! 
 If you stay here and go into the Church, you might rise 
 to be a rector in time !" 
 
 " True for ye," said Guy. " I moight. But I should 
 have to live on the prospect meanwhile, and that's like 
 fillin' your mouth with an empty spoon. It's hard to 
 whistle widout the upper lip, Aunt Ally, dear ; and a 
 man's degree don't count for much in the old counthry if 
 he's got no money to speak of, nor friends, nor intro- 
 ductions to back him. Besides, I want more elbow-room . 
 Here men's faculties are getting to be too evenly bal- 
 anced because of the crowd. There isn't room enough 
 for individual expansion in any one direction." 
 
 " There's truth in what you say," St. Lambert an- 
 swered, speaking with an effort. " I should like to dis- 
 cuss your prospects with you. Are you doing anything 
 just now ? I have to walk back with Miss Lorraine, but 
 if she did not mind " St. Lambert was doggedly de- 
 termined not to walk back with Babs alone. He was 
 cultivating weakness by allowing himself to doubt his 
 own strength. 
 
 Babs did not mind a bit. On the contrary, she was 
 unflatteringly pleased to add the Irishman to her escort. 
 
 Miss Spice watched them depart, all three together, 
 and felt herself a success for the first time in her life. 
 She shook back her curls, and ran about holding up her 
 
 372
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 arms as if she would flutter up to the ceiling, so light 
 was her heart. Sir Owen did not fill the same space 
 either in her estimation or in her house as that other dear 
 man, Mr. Jellybond Tinney ; but oh ! but oh ! she did 
 sometimes feel that the quality of him was superior. 
 
 It was Mr. Jellybond Tinney, however, who, that 
 evening, in a graceful note, begged her acceptance of a 
 fine sirloin of beef and a sack of potatoes ; for which, as 
 a lonely bachelor, he had no use. 
 
 On the way back from Dane Court, St. Lambert asked 
 Guy Spice if he had decided upon a profession. 
 
 " Well, I think so, pretty well," he answered. " I've 
 had hankerings after the medical, but I think it will be 
 the Chvirch. I had a chum at college, a medical student, 
 a shrimp of a fellow, straight up and down like a yard of 
 pump water, and lithe enough to tread down meal in the 
 barrel of a fowling-piece his line w r as the medical. He's 
 a clever varmint who'll make his name ; and he almost 
 persuaded me. But I'm hankering after the Church." 
 
 " The Church militant then, I suppose ?" 
 
 Guy laughed. 
 
 " The Church manly, at any rate," he said, after a 
 pause. " No millinery for me, and no morbid medigeval- 
 ism. Nature is God's law, and that's good enough for 
 me ; Nature abhors celibacy. We don't want to see the 
 wholesome, healthy creed of Christ overlaid with morbid 
 mediaevalisms in this country, I say ; but that's the 
 danger threatening the rule of the celibate priest, 
 which has wrecked every country upon which it has 
 obtained a hold. In Nature, it is said, there are no re- 
 wards and punishments, there are consequences ; and 
 the consequences of celibacy are dire." 
 
 373
 
 CHAPTER X L 
 
 THE next morning, immediately after breakfast, 
 General St. Lambert arrived at Dane Court. 
 He encountered Barbara Land in the hall. She 
 was surprised to see him so early, and also con- 
 cerned because he looked haggard and anxious. 
 
 " I've come to say good-bye to you all," he said. " I'm 
 off by the next mail. I've been up all night packing. 
 It's rather a rush." 
 
 Barbara looked up at him gravely. She seemed to 
 understand. At all events she asked no questions ; but 
 she sighed heavily. 
 
 " I shall miss you dreadfully," she said. " Things 
 are not coming right. I'm disheartened." 
 
 "About Babs?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 They had turned into the Pompadour room, the room 
 made memorable to St. Lambert by the scene with Caden- 
 house. He had not entered it since that morning, and 
 now, as he looked around, he was seized by a flood of 
 painful recollection. He suffered more in the retrospect, 
 though, than he had done at the moment. There is a 
 certain interest and excitement in the action of a scene 
 which is altogether absent from the retrospect ; hence 
 the chill impression that depresses. St. Lambert had 
 gone through some novel phases since he had made the 
 acquaintance of that room, and there was sufficient 
 change in his point of view to awaken the sensation 
 which Babs had experienced the day before when she 
 
 374
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 found no change in the aspect of scenes familiar to corre- 
 spond with the change in herself. The fact that the 
 room was the same emphasized the difference St. Lam- 
 bert felt in himself and exposed it. 
 
 " I ought to have gone long ago," slipped from him 
 unawares. 
 
 Again Barbara looked at him gravely, but asked no 
 question. 
 
 " What do you say ?" he asked, after a pause. 
 
 Then she smiled. 
 
 " I say that it is strange that you, my beloved guardian, 
 who have guided and directed me so wisely all my life, 
 should come to me for advice," she answered, playfully. 
 " But since you ask me, I think I think if you go you 
 will do well, as you always do. There is nothing to be 
 done here now that you can do." 
 
 " I should like to be sure that there is something still 
 for you to do," he said ; " but what was that you said 
 about being disheartened ?" 
 
 Barbara hesitated. 
 
 " I feel that I am useless here," she said, at last. " I 
 am doing your little girl no good. No one could help 
 her, tied and bound as I am by every convention. I 
 have half made up my mind to resign my post and take 
 to literature. You know I have a pretty trick of smart- 
 ness. And I should soon learn, like the rest, to make 
 side slashes with my pen at other women writers just to 
 show my superiority to every code which does not em- 
 brace the recognized antagonism of woman to woman. 
 Then the critics would say I could write." 
 
 * Don't be bitter, Barbara." 
 
 " Why did you impose such an impossible task upon 
 me ?" she demanded. " Why did you set me to develop 
 such a girl ? She has no soul at all." 
 
 " So I hear every one say," he answered, dryly. 
 
 Barbara looked at him sharply. 
 
 375
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " You suspect that she has a soul," was her reflection. 
 " Well, you may be right. The eyes of love see deep." 
 
 " Barbara," he said, " I begin to suspect that you have 
 not arrived at that suspension of the worrying faculties 
 which rests the body and at the same time encourages 
 the spirit to speak. Well, I understand your dishearten- 
 ment among these thralls of custom. I have often asked 
 myself the meaning of it all since I came back this time 
 this casual life, these ridiculous elderly people, feeding 
 and flirting ; this flawless Cadenhouse, not known to be a 
 man of even one weakness, dominating the place whether 
 he be here or not, and always more or less invisible 
 busy, self-absorbed, making his own soul up there in 
 that high tower on the hill, careless of all else. This girl 
 Julia, scheming already for worldly possessions ; this 
 girl Babs, frankly a little Pagan, living for her senses 
 alone, even if for her finer senses, but still, as one per- 
 ceives in flashes, with something in her beyond possi- 
 bilities which add to the pity of it because they are not 
 being developed. Mrs. Kingconstance, Mrs. Japp and 
 Florence, poor little Ally Spice, Fanny Sturdy, all inno- 
 cently engaged in the pursuit of man, their one pursuit 
 in life, man-hunting extraordinary. Then my sister 
 that mother of many of whom one would like to have 
 said that she had chosen the better part, only that the 
 fact is that she never would have chosen that better part 
 had she had any choice in the matter. She has only the 
 animal instinct of maternity, which urges the mother to 
 protect her young while they are helpless ; once they 
 can run alone, she lets them go uninfluenced, un- 
 guided, uninformed in any of the principles that make 
 noble men and women ; launches them into the world 
 fit for nothing but to join the wretched mob of wastrels 
 whose only function seems to be to add to the miserable 
 complications of life. And why are they all such fail- 
 ures ? Because they are all deliberately trivial." 
 
 376
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " The position is hopeless !" Barbara mourned. 
 
 " No, I don't agree with you there/' he replied. " I 
 don't agree because of Lorraine Kingconstance. When 
 I was here last hers was one of the most hopeless cases 
 of all, apparently, a case of an unhealthy mind making 
 mischief in a healthy body. But there has come to her 
 in the interval some strange awakening something 
 which has made her life purposeful and is saving her. 
 And she was very far gone. She had even lost the sense 
 of the weight of words. Yet you see her now, interested 
 in everything !" 
 
 " What roused her ?" 
 
 " Heaven knows !" he said ; " but roused is just the 
 word. And that is what they all want here to be roused, 
 to be taken out of themselves, to be given an objective 
 interest in life ; to be made to feel that what they are 
 and say and do signifies. In such places the past lin- 
 gers, the present finds it hard to penetrate. You remem- 
 ber your reception by Lady May on the sole supposition 
 that you did not subscribe to some of her prejudices ? 
 She is almost civil to you now, I believe." 
 
 " More than civil," said Barbara. " She has abso- 
 lutely gushed she must have heard that I am a de- 
 scendant of the ancient Lords of Land. How it does 
 irritate one, that sort of snobbery !" 
 
 " It is detestable," he answered. " Still, I maintain 
 that they are not all hopeless. Here, even here, in the 
 whole country-side, working, filling up the intervals of 
 life and thought, is the spirit the divine spirit that 
 makes for progress." 
 
 He rose as he spoke. 
 
 " Then you are really going ?" 
 
 " Yes. I want to see my little girl before I face the 
 family. Then I am off." 
 
 " But have you no orders for me ?" 
 
 " Orders ? No ! I have nothing for you but the old 
 
 377
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 watchword, Barbara your father's last word to me 
 when he had given you into my safe-keeping : I rely 
 upon you." 
 
 " If I can help it, you shall not rely in vain," she 
 said. 
 
 He kissed her forehead paternally, and let her go. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Babs swept into the room, 
 slammed the door vehemently, and fell into a tragic at- 
 titude. 
 
 " What's this I hear ?" she cried. 
 
 " That I am going." 
 
 " Oh, but you can't go, you know. I want you." 
 
 " May 1 ask for what particular purpose ?" he inquired, 
 with smiling irony. 
 
 " To amuse me, of course," she said, frankly. 
 
 " I thought so," he replied. " It does not seem to have 
 occurred to you that there are other pursuits which might 
 amuse me more." 
 
 * The possibility presents itself to me now," she said ; 
 " but the probability does not." 
 
 He twinkled. 
 
 " I am going, however," he said. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you are going without even 
 having proposed to me properly ? How dare you ! and 
 after having talked so much about it, too ! How do you 
 know I shall not begin to break my heart directly the 
 hall-door has shut upon you ?" 
 
 " It would be a redeeming point in your character if 
 you did," he said. " It would show that you are capable 
 of caring for somebody besides yourself." 
 
 Babs was staggered. She had been standing in the 
 middle of the room, delivering herself of her sentiments 
 with her accustomed emphasis ; now she went forward 
 and sat down on the corner of a couch. 
 
 St. Lambert drew up an easy-chair, and sat so that he 
 could see her face. He had responded to her in a banter- 
 
 378
 
 YOU ARE GOING WITHOUT EVEN HAVING PROPOSED TO ME
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ing tone ; but there was something in his eyes that so- 
 bered her. 
 
 From the white panelled walls the eighteenth century 
 smiled down upon them. Babs knew that the eyes of 
 the lord and lady shepherds and shepherdesses were 
 fixed upon her ; she fancied the rustle of brocade as they 
 settled to closer attention ; she felt them twitch the blue 
 ribbons by which the lambs were led ; she detected faint 
 odors of old-world perfumes dried roses mingled with 
 lavender, cinnamon, clove, and musk. That the eigh- 
 teenth century should gaze with rapt attention upon 
 the nineteenth seemed natural to Babs. She looked 
 out of the window, down the long avenue, and was re- 
 minded of the misty morning when Cadenhouse came 
 riding, radiant, to claim her promise. In her heart she 
 did not believe he never would come again. 
 
 " Why do you shrug your shoulders, Babs ?" St. Lam- 
 bert asked. 
 
 * I was saying to myself I don't care." 
 
 * Do you mean it ?" 
 
 * No. I don't know. I was reminded of Cadenhouse 
 that morning. There is a terrible barrier between us 
 when one comes to think of it. He hasn't any sense of 
 humor. And how can two people agree who don't laugh 
 at the same things ?" 
 
 " Why laugh at all ?" St. Lambert said. " There's a 
 higher happiness than that." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Babs, politely. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " It doesn't seem right somehow that you should be 
 going now," she said, at last. 
 
 " If I could do you any good by staying, I should 
 stay," he replied. 
 
 " I wonder what you mean by ' good,' " said Babs. 
 " For of course you do me good. There's a lightness 
 and brightness in the atmosphere the moment you ap- 
 
 379
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 pear, and an end of every attempt to improve the occa- 
 sion which does me more good than anything." 
 
 " Are you determined to spend your life in the pursuit 
 of pleasure ?" he answered, indirectly. 
 
 " Certainly," she said. " What else is there to do ?" 
 
 " Well, you might vary the monotony of one pursuit 
 by adding another to it," he suggested. " You might 
 also be developing your soul." 
 
 Babs laughed derisively. 
 
 " You know that I have no soul," she said. 
 
 " I know that they say so," he replied. " But I be- 
 lieve that you have a soul, and a brave little soul, too." 
 
 Babs looked gratified. 
 
 " Now that is nice I" she exclaimed. " I don't know 
 why, but it pleases me more than anything that has 
 ever been said to me." 
 
 " That is because the ambition which you secretly 
 cherish is to have a soul," he said. 
 
 Her eyes fell ; she was thinking. 
 
 "And as to making pleasure the pursuit of your life," 
 he continued, " no pleasure, I assure you, would result 
 from that. That would be making a business of it ; and 
 the moment you do that you change its character. Busi- 
 ness is not pleasure, you know." 
 
 " Of course not," she said. " I love to hear you talk- 
 ing about me. I do so enjoy myself as a subject of con- 
 versation. Tell me my faults. Which is the great- 
 est ?" 
 
 " Want of aspiration," he answered. " You are train- 
 ing yourself to be nothing but a sensuous little animal." 
 
 " 1 know," she said. " I know I'm not so nice as I was 
 when I was younger. I was nearer to something then 
 something I seem to have lost since since I lost touch 
 with Cadenhouse. But go on go on. I like to hear 
 you talk. You put things in a way I like. You ap- 
 peal to some sense in me that responds pleasantly. I 
 
 380
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 sometimes suspect that I don't know a bit how to live, 
 and I am sure, until you came, no one ever tried to teach 
 me. Barbara would, I think, if I let her ; but as I al- 
 ways snub her when I suspect that she is about to begin, 
 her teaching has not as yet amounted to much. Still, 
 I perceive that the New Woman has aspirations and 
 ideals which I have not. Aunt Lorraine is a specimen 
 of what the Old Woman with aspirations becomes. She 
 had to stifle her aspirations for want of an outlet, and 
 there was nothing left for her to do but to pray ; so she 
 prayed prayed her hopes of happiness to death. Julia 
 is a specimen of the Old Woman without aspirations, 
 with nothing but a common philosophy ; she preys, 
 too, in her way she is born to prey on society, to be 
 a tremendous social success. I am the outcome, too, of 
 the old rotten house of bondage, but I am the reaction 
 from it ; you can't control me ; it is my nature to be 
 outrageous." 
 
 " It is your habit, not your nature, to be outrageous," 
 he replied. " Had anybody taken you in hand in time 
 to correct the habit it would never have grown upon 
 you. But it is still possible to break yourself of it ; you 
 have only to give yourself time to think. You must 
 give yourself time for everything. You don't take your 
 life in proper slow time, that's the difficulty. You try 
 to rush through everything. In the matter of a book, 
 for instance do you seek to prolong the pleasure when 
 it interests you ? Not a bit of it ! You flip through it, 
 the faster the better, and gather from it nothing but an 
 overload of undigested ideas, which resolve themselves 
 into opinions mainly indicative of want of comprehen- 
 sion, sterility of thought, narrowness of mind, and ab- 
 sence of heart. Sympathetic insight is a faculty that 
 must have free play ; hustle it and it cannot act ; give 
 it time and you reap a rich reward of extra enjoyment 
 in yourself, of extra appreciation from others." 
 
 381
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " That's nice, too" said Babs. " Why didn't you talk 
 like that before ?" 
 
 Her tone was entirely perfunctory, and she was look- 
 ing about her as she spoke. He could not tell if she had 
 even heard what he said. He waited a little. 
 
 " What are you thinking about, Babs?" he said, at last. 
 
 " I was thinking of the difference between us," she an- 
 swered, ruefully. 
 
 " The difference between seventeen and forty," slip- 
 ped from him unawares. 
 
 " Nonsense !" she said. " What difference does that 
 make ? It was the difference between your ideals and 
 mine that struck me. I almost wish that yours were 
 mine ! And so you are really going ?" She sighed. 
 " I feel it strangely blank the prospect without you." 
 
 St. Lambert was twisting his mustache nervously. 
 He had risen. 
 
 " Good-bye, little girl," he said. " I wish I could be 
 sure that you would make a friend of Barbara while I 
 am away." 
 
 " Then you don't propose to stay away forever," Babs 
 said, rising also as she spoke. 
 
 " I propose to come back the moment you want me. If 
 you are in any difficulty, if you ever want a friend, send 
 for me without hesitation. See " he sat down at a writ- 
 ing-table and wrote " see, here is an address which will 
 always find me." 
 
 Babs took the paper from his hand mechanically. 
 
 " It's horribly depressing, all this," she complained. 
 
 He held out his hand to her. 
 
 " I think I shall kiss you good-bye," she said, putting 
 her hands on his shoulders. She pressed her lips to his 
 neck. " How nice you smell !" she observed. " What 
 sort of soap do you use ?" 
 
 " Well, really, Babs isn't that inquiry somewhat in- 
 timate ?" 
 
 382
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Babs stood off from him considering. 
 
 " I wondei why I should have chosen that particular 
 piece of idiotcy from among all my thoughts at this mo- 
 ment chosen to give utterance to it ?" she wanted to 
 know. " Do you find after a thrilling interview that 
 you always suffer more for one particular piece of idiotcy 
 than for any of the others ? That is the one I shall suf- 
 fer for this time. What sort of soap do you use ? Good 
 heavens ! I could tear myself up when I think of it. I 
 have so many things in my mind all at once, and all 
 clamoring for expression. If language allowed it, I 
 could express a dozen different sensations at the same 
 moment. Little bits of such a fabric of feeling jerked 
 out staccato must seem absurd. . . . Good-bye, then, 
 since it must be good-bye I" 
 
 " Good-bye," he responded. " You will be grown up, 
 perhaps, the next time I see you ; but, on my word, I 
 don't know whether I wish it or not. Good-bye means 
 ' God bless you/ ' 
 
 " Let's hope He will," said Babs. 
 
 She could not eat her luncheon that day, a circum- 
 stance which she very much resented. 
 
 * Why on earth these comings and goings should spoil 
 everything, I can't imagine," she said. " I should have 
 thought it enough to lose one's friends without losing 
 one's appetite. Misery ! What sort of soap do you 
 use?" 
 
 383
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 PUT the fire to the pump, Aunt Ally, dear/' said 
 Guy Spice. "He'd be under a very bad char- 
 acter that I wouldn't have a cup of tea wid 
 this minute." 
 
 " Oh, really !" cried little Miss Spice. " I'm so glad. 
 I'll get you one directly." 
 
 Miss Spice with her nephew was like a child with a 
 new pet, never so happy as when she could see him eat 
 a weakness which Guy had been quick to perceive 
 and careful to encourage. But he was no sponge, Guy 
 Spice. He soon gathered from observation how strait- 
 ened the circumstances of his kinswomen were, and 
 had only consented to remain with them on condition 
 that they allowed him to share expenses. After some 
 argument he managed to take upon himself the lion's 
 .share ; but he had to prove first that his patrimony really 
 did exceed two hundred a year by some shillings. 
 
 This sudden increase of income was having the hap- 
 piest effect upon the tw r o good women at the Cross Roads 
 Cottage. Mrs. Sophia Pepper was frequently seen to 
 smile, and Ally had lost her half-starved look, and was 
 becoming plump for her, and rosy. 
 
 " Why don't you always have a paying guest, Aunt 
 Ally, dear ?" her nephew asked her, at dinner one 
 day. 
 
 " Oh, my dear !" she exclaimed " Surely you don't 
 mean it? A gentlewoman couldn't do such a thing." 
 
 " A gentlewoman with any common-sense puts her 
 384
 
 own comfort before everybody's opinion," he answered, 
 sententiously. " Happiness comes from the inside, not 
 from the out. You get together a nice little party in 
 your own house you've room enough ; and they'd 
 come, too, fast enough, in the summer, for the sake of 
 the pine-woods alone you get them together and smile 
 at the neighborhood. If any other gentlewoman ob- 
 jects, let her ! You'll be having a lively time, and she'll 
 not be missed." 
 
 " Oh, Guy !" Miss Spice exclaimed, clasping her 
 hands. " Could IT 
 
 " Of course you could," grumped Mrs. Sophia Pepper ; 
 " but it '11 take a man all his time to convince you. The 
 only drawback I see is the empty rooms up -stairs. 
 Where's the furniture to come from ?" 
 
 " If that's all " said Guy Spice, and fell a-thinking. 
 
 He had just returned from a stroll in the village when 
 he asked for his tea that afternoon. Hitherto he had 
 lived in large cities, where it was crowds and not individ- 
 uals he had to study ; and he found life in Danehurst 
 like looking at human nature under a microscope, so 
 unduly exaggerated was the importance of every trifle. 
 He wandered about continually, making friends and 
 picking up information. Our opinion of people depends 
 less upon what we see in them than upon what they 
 make us see in ourselves, and their attitude towards us. 
 It is an unmannerly person indeed who does not respond, 
 at least for the moment, to a friendly attitude ; but it is 
 the knack of inspiring self-satisfaction that makes most 
 adherents ; and Guy was richly endowed with that knack. 
 He had found Danehurst deserted that afternoon by all 
 save the village drunkard, who lay asleep in the sun, 
 and a small boy who was stirring him up with a stick. 
 Guy knew the man well. He had often watched him 
 making diagonal tracks up the hill to his hut in the wood, 
 and heard him telling himself encouragingly, as he stag- 
 
 2B 385
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 gered from side to side : " It'sh all a matter o' time, 
 Cherlie ; it'sh all a matter o' time." 
 
 When he was not out of doors, Guy would stand by 
 the hour together in the drawing-room window, looking 
 up and down the cross-roads, and asking questions of 
 his aunt about all who passed. 
 
 " And who may she be ?" he now asked as he took his 
 tea, alluding to a trim little person in the freshest of 
 frocks and most becoming of hats. 
 
 " Oh, that's Bertha from Dane Court." his aunt in- 
 formed him. 
 
 Bertha went smiling by, although there was nothing 
 much to smile at, unless it were a stray goose which 
 was wandering down the road, and the village con- 
 stable looking as if he longed to take it up for tres- 
 pass. 
 
 " What an eye she's got !" Guy observed. " She can 
 see behind her like a hare. And, bedad, she knows 
 there's somebody looking at her, for she is blushing be- 
 hind the ear like a beggar-man taking a copper. What 
 man o' business may she be, Aunt Ally, dear ?" 
 
 Miss Spice put her hands behind her to feel how far 
 her hair hung down her back, and giggled. 
 
 " How can you call a girl a man of business, Guy ?" 
 she remonstrated. " She's the young lady's maid. Her 
 father was a well-to-do farmer, but he died ; and her 
 brother's a bad lot, and she couldn't live with him ; and 
 her mother was dead before : so she went out. But 
 she's quite superior, and Miss Lorraine thinks a great 
 deal of her." 
 
 " Bedad, so do I," said Guy Spice. 
 
 " She used to be maid to both young ladies before they 
 grew up," his aunt discreetly pursued ; " but last year 
 Miss Julia would have a French maid of her own, so 
 now Bertha belongs to Miss Lorraine." 
 
 " She'll be going on an errand now, I suppose," said 
 
 386
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Guy Spice. * What are you going to do yourself this 
 afternoon ?" 
 
 " Some sewing," said Miss Spice. 
 
 " Then you'll not come out ? Well, I'm thinking I'd 
 like another stroll when I've finished my tea, and a pipe, 
 by your leave. You ought to smoke, Aunt Ally, dear, 
 you really ought." 
 
 Miss Spice shook back her curls and ran out of the 
 room at the bare suggestion. 
 
 Pretty Bertha, tripping merrily back to Dane Court, 
 humming a tune, suddenly found herself confronted in a 
 solitary lane by a tall, awkward-looking fellow in ill-cut 
 clothes. She showed some alarm. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Guy. " Will you be afther 
 telling me if you've lost anything, please." 
 
 Bertha felt in her pocket. 
 
 " No. I don't think I've lost anything," she said 
 dubiously, while she felt if her brooch was there and her 
 watch-chain safe. 
 
 " Why ?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, just because, if you had," he answered, oblig- 
 ingly, " I thought I'd be glad to help you to find it." 
 
 Bertha laughed. 
 
 "And which way will you be going ?" he asked. 
 
 " To Dane Court." 
 
 " Why, so am 1. I'm going to pay my respects to the 
 family." 
 
 " You're coming from there," said Bertha, dimpling. 
 
 " Oh, 'deed thin, it's easy to turn round," he answered. 
 " And, faix, since 1 heard your voice, it's meself doesn't 
 know whether I met you, or whether I overtook you." 
 
 " Here's Miss Kingconstance coming," Bertha warned 
 him. 
 
 " Well, Miss Bertha," he said, dropping his bantering 
 tone, " what difference does that make ? Am I to 
 believe that you pay yourself the doubtful compliment 
 
 387
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 of supposing that I should only speak to you on the 
 sly ?" 
 
 " There's a difference of position, sir," said Bertha, 
 demurely. 
 
 " All the more reason that I should not presume." 
 
 " The gentry about here think differently," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 " Bother the gentry !" he responded, cheerfully. Miss 
 Kingconstance had overtaken them by this time, and he 
 lifted his hat to her. 
 
 There was a buzz of conversation in the great drawing- 
 room at Dane Court when Miss Kingconstance entered it, 
 followed by Guy Spice. Mr. Jelly bond Tinney was hold- 
 ing forth. 
 
 " We have fallen on troublous times," he was saying, 
 " on very troublous times. I regret to say our relations 
 with foreign powers are not satisfactory." 
 
 " Bedad," said Guy Spice, pausing on his way to shake 
 hands with Mrs. Kingconstance, " bedad, there's Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney laughing at the ladies as usual." 
 
 " Sir ]" said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 " Oh, I'm not flattering ye," said Mr. Guy Spice. " I'm 
 just telling the truth. You needn't mind, you know. 
 You're much worse than they say you are. Miss Land, 
 I ask your opinion ?" 
 
 Barbara smiled enigmatically. 
 
 " We are just going to have some music," Mrs. King- 
 constance said, stiffly. She had noticed before that Guy 
 Spice always managed to jar with Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 ney when they met. It was evident that the Irishman 
 did not love her friend and she resented the fact. " Miss 
 Land, please sing us something." 
 
 " I'll try," said Barbara, going to the piano. " But 
 I'm afraid I can t ; I'm very hoarse to-day." 
 
 " Of course, if you can't 1" said Mrs. Kingconstance. 
 She was not in a very good humor. Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 
 388
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ney's attentions were ceasing to satisfy her not that he 
 had fallen off in them, but there was a difference all the 
 same, which she felt distinctly, and found all the more 
 tormenting because she could not define it. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney had risen to open the piano for 
 Miss Land, and as she sang by heart he relapsed into a 
 chair beside her, and sat with his feet touching the train 
 of her dress, gazing at her unguardedly. 
 
 Barbara began to play. 
 
 " Miss Land," Guy interrupted, " is Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney worthy to touch the hem of your garment ?" 
 
 " Oh thank you," said Barbara, sweeping up her 
 train. 
 
 " / beg your pardon !" Mr. Jellybond Tinney exclaimed. 
 
 Barbara began again ; but after the first few bars her 
 voice broke, and she was obliged to give it up. 
 
 " I am so sorry," she said, turning to Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance. 
 
 * It can't be helped, I suppose," Mrs. Kingconstance 
 observed, dryly. 
 
 " Well, thank you any way, Miss Land," said Guy, 
 getting up to give her a chair. " It was kind of you to try. 
 And, for me own part, I'm just as pleased as if you had 
 sung." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney laughed ironically. 
 
 "Are you fond of music, Mr. Spice ?" Miss Land has- 
 tened to interpose. 
 
 " 'Deed, and I am, Miss Land," he said. " Me and Mic 
 Magowan went everywhere to hear it in Daublin. Once 
 we got to a big oratorio. That's a moighty queer thing 
 now, an oratorio ; d'ye like them at all ?" 
 
 " Immensely. Which did you hear ?" 
 
 " I don't rightly know," said Guy. " In front of us 
 were benches sloping up one above the other to the ceil- 
 ing ; and first the music played a bit, and then a chap 
 jumped up and shouted at the top of his voice, ' The 
 
 389
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 horse ! ' Then another fellow right above him jumped up 
 too, as if he were determined to have his say, and he 
 shouted, ' The horse !' louder than the first. Then a 
 fellow quite at the opposite end rose when nobody was 
 looking at him, and he bellowed, ' The horse !' harder 
 than either of them. Then somebody unexpectedly 
 called out, 'And his rider !' That seemed to take all but 
 the fiddles by surprise ; but they rather liked it, ap- 
 parently, for they started in playing excitedly, and the 
 man in front with the stick seemed to go mad on the sub- 
 ject. Then a lot more thought they'd try it too, so they 
 yelled, ' The horse !' and ' His rider !' till they tired ; 
 and when they'd stopped their row the first fellow began 
 again ; but he'd picked up a wrinkle from the rest, and 
 said the whole of it that time. Oh, it was moighty foine 
 eritoirely," Guy concluded ; " and me and Mic Magowan 
 enjoyed betting which would jump up next, and whether 
 they'd say, ' The horse,' or ' His rider/ or both, till they 
 tired of it. Mr. Jellybond Tinney, it seems to me that 
 you are not looking well." 
 
 "1 feel the room too hot," Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 gasped. 
 
 He rose as he spoke, and retired in evident agitation. 
 
 Guy Spice walked home slowly and thoughtfully; 
 and thoughtful he remained until he had lighted the 
 lamp in the drawing-room for his aunt that evening. 
 Lighting the lamp was one of the numerous unobtrusive 
 little attentions he paid her regularly. It was the signal 
 for her to take out a patriarchal piece of embroidery 
 which had been her company work for years. Guy usu- 
 ally spent the evenings lying on the huge old-fashioned 
 sofa, watching her work and chatting with her or reading 
 to her. Mrs. Sophia Pepper did not appear in the draw- 
 ing-room on week-days ; her excuse was that she had 
 something else to do ; but she kept Sunday by sit- 
 
 390
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ting there in her best gown, stiffly, for an hour after 
 supper. 
 
 " Aunt Ally," Guy said, suddenly, that night when 
 they were settled " Aunt Ally, I wish you would tell 
 me all you know about Mr. Jellybond Tinney." 
 
 " All I know about him !" Miss Spice gasped. 
 
 " Yes. Who is he at all ? Where does he come from ?" 
 
 " Oh, that I cannot say," she answered, mysteriously. 
 
 " Well, but from the moment he arrived ; do you hap- 
 pen to remember ?" 
 
 " Shall I ever forget ?" she answered, tragically. " I 
 was his first friend here ! Oh, Guy ! It had been rain- 
 ing all day ; but towards evening the weather cleared ; 
 and 1 went out to buy a little something for aunt. And 
 first I met the children they were children then 
 Master Montacute, Miss Julia, and Miss Lorraine. We 
 stopped and spoke. Then I went on alone towards the 
 village ; and I saw approaching me a stranger. Only 
 once before had I seen such a man when 1 was in Lon- 
 don a royal duke. I courtesied. He doffed his hat and 
 bowed profoundly." 
 
 " Which was it you courtesied to, Aunt Ally, dear ?" 
 
 " I courtesied to them both," she answered, with proud 
 humility. 
 
 " Then they were both together ?" 
 
 " Oh no ! no ! The occasions were different, but my 
 sensations were the same." 
 
 "And what happened next ?" 
 
 " We passed passed on. But there was there was 
 a change. I knew I knew that nothing would ever 
 be the same again. I looked back once. At that mo- 
 ment he looked back he hesitated he stopped he re- 
 turned. I was paralyzed. He asked his way to the vil- 
 lage. I showed him. We walked together. We con- 
 versed. Oh, Guy 1 what a time ! The violets were just 
 coming out. He admired my Chippendale furniture "
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " In the village ?" 
 
 " Oh no next day, when he came to see me. ' Your 
 graceful spindle-shanks/ he said " 
 
 " Confound him !" 
 
 " Why, oh why, Guy ? He was all kindness all 
 sympathy. He always has been. I told him about the 
 Swiss Cottage. I gave him his first introduction to 
 Mr. Worringham. After that all was easy for him. 
 Ah ! those early days ! However, it was not to be !" 
 
 " I suppose he was quite settled in his house and re- 
 ceived by the neighborhood before he gave you to under- 
 stand that it was not to be ?" said Guy Spice. 
 
 " Oh, quite," she replied. 
 
 Guy reflected for a little with a frown on his face. 
 
 " Did he ever kiss you, Aunt Ally, dear ?" he said, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, Guy !" the little woman exclaimed, blushing and 
 simpering ; " how can you ask such a question ?" 
 
 " I asked for information," he answered, dryly. " But 
 we need not pursue the subject. I can see as far into a 
 mile-stone as most people ; and it's evident that there's 
 an account for me to settle with some one before I leave 
 this neighborhood confound him !" 
 
 " Oh, Guy 1" simpered Miss Spice. 
 
 392
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 THE world had come to a standstill for Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney. All life had resolved itself into 
 an ache of expectation, of hope, of fear. " I 
 must end it ; I must know my fate," he said to 
 himself day after day when hope was high ; but fear 
 forbade. If Barbara refused him ! But no ! he would 
 riot allow such a thought to take shape in his mind. " If 
 you prophesy evil you bring it to pass," he said to him- 
 self, and resolutely refused to prophesy. 
 
 With regard to Mrs. Kingconstance, he had no qualms 
 of conscience. She would be disappointed, of course; 
 but then she must remember all she owed him, all the 
 happy hours, the ingenuous distractions, a whole sum- 
 mer of romance such a time, indeed, as she had never 
 had before and never would again. A little sadness 
 thrown into the recollection would only enhance it; 
 the disappointment of his marriage with another would 
 lend that touch of sadness ; therefore, although she 
 might not see it at first, she would realize eventually 
 that he had had her best interests at heart as well as his 
 own, and they would remain fast friends forever. 
 
 After General St. Lambert's departure he began to see 
 less of Barbara. The early summer had come on apace, 
 and she and Babs spent much of their time out-of-doof s, 
 so that they were not often in when he went to Dane 
 Court, nor did he know where to find them, for they sel- 
 dom mentioned their plans before they set out on an ex- 
 pedition. This it was that brought Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 
 393
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 ney to the point. He had not seen Barbara for more 
 than a week except on Sunday in church ; and the de- 
 privation was so great he determined to put himself 
 out of his misery, or, as he said to himself facetiously, to 
 know the best at once. 
 
 Accordingly, he arranged a bouquet of bridal blooms, 
 orange-blossoms, myrtle, stephanotis, and syringa, all 
 white flowers, but tied with streamers of symbolic crim- 
 son in token of the fiery flame that consumed him. This 
 arrangement appealed to him as highly poetical until 
 he arrived at Dane Court. There, the first person he 
 encountered was Julia. 
 
 " What a cauliflower \" she exclaimed. * Whose heart 
 are you going to assault now, Mr. Jellybond Tinney ? 
 I suppose the scarlet is a danger signal : Ladies, be- 
 ware !" 
 
 * Well, really, Miss Julia," Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 stammered. " Will you do me the favor to accept " 
 
 " Now you know you didn't intend the cauliflower for 
 me," Julia interrupted. " Try mamma." 
 
 She ran off as she spoke, leaving Mr. Jellybond con- 
 templating the floral emblem ruefully. Ridicule robs 
 such efforts of their poetry. He cast the flowers aside. 
 
 " It's a bad omen," flashed through his mind. 
 
 He stifled the thought, but the sensation of uneasi- 
 ness to which it had given rise remained with him. 
 
 In the hall he found Clodd, and asked boldly for Miss 
 Land. Now fortune seemed to favor him. Miss Land 
 had just gone out alone with a book in her hand ; she 
 would probably be somewhere about the grounds. Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney sallied forth. Where, he asked him- 
 self, where would Miss Land be likely to settle down to 
 read that lovely day ? The scent of new-mown hay, 
 the sound of running water she loved them both. And 
 at that moment she could have them both at once with- 
 out leaving the grounds. Mr. Jellybond Tinney knew 
 
 394
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 where. He took the narrow path which led to Wylde- 
 holme, and found Barbara seated in the shade of a hay- 
 rick, just as he had anticipated. The brook, which di- 
 vided the two properties, made music for her, and the 
 perfume she loved hung heavy in the air. 
 
 She was deep in her book when Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 ney approached ; but his shadow, falling on the page, 
 disturbed her. She looked up. 
 
 " Good-day," she said. " You are going to Wylde- 
 holme, I suppose." 
 
 She made no effort to rise, nor did she hold out her 
 hand. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney, although he felt 
 himself dismissed. " I came to look for you." 
 
 " What a bother 1" said Barbara. " Am I wanted ?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss Land Barbara," Mr. Jellybond answer- 
 ed, solemnly. " I want you." 
 
 Barbara hastily rose to her feet. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Jellybond Tinney/' she said, * your 
 manner is most alarming !" 
 
 " I see you do not think it so," he replied, "or you would 
 not speak so lightly. I am sorry if I startled you, but " 
 
 " Shall we walk back to the house together ?" Barbara 
 hastily interrupted. 
 
 " I want to speak to you seriously " 
 
 " We can talk on the way " 
 
 " Not so well. Miss Land, pray hear me. You must 
 know what I have to say. You must have seen all this 
 time my devotion, my passion Barbara, from the mo- 
 ment I saw you " 
 
 " Do let me interrupt you, " said Barbara. " I am afraid 
 you are going to commit yourself, and you mustn't. 
 You and I are good friends, and we will remain good 
 friends; but more than friends we cannot be." 
 
 * Don't say that," he implored. " You put the light 
 out of the world and make life a blank. You must care 
 
 395
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 for me, you must indeed. Or even if you don't care now, 
 don't refuse me. I'm a rich man much richer than any 
 one here suspects. I can make your life worth having, 
 I promise you. It isn't necessary to pretend to love me. 
 You like me already as a friend ; that will do ; only con- 
 sent" 
 
 " Mr. Jelly bond Tinney," she said, positively, " you 
 must take no for an answer." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney seized her hands. She strug- 
 gled to withdraw them, but he held them fast. Exas- 
 perated, she uttered an exclamation. 
 
 From behind the hayrick Guy Spice appeared. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney dropped Barbara's hands. Guy 
 had been aroused by their voices from a delightful doze. 
 He could not hear what was said, but it sounded like an 
 altercation, and he recognized the speakers. When Bar- 
 bara uttered that exclamation, he thought it was time 
 to interfere. 
 
 "At your old tricks, eh, Mr. Jellybond Tinney," he 
 said. "At your age ye ought to know better ; but since 
 ye don't seem to, it's time ye were taught." 
 
 He knocked Mr. Jellybond Tinney down. 
 
 Barbara took to her heels incontinently. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney was not wanting in physical 
 courage. He gathered himself up and flew at his ad- 
 versary. But rage put him at a disadvantage, and 
 again Guy knocked him down. 
 
 Again Mr. Jellybond Tinney gathered himself up. 
 But the luxurious life he had led of late years had told 
 upon him ; his once good muscles had grown flabby ; 
 there was no spring left in him to resist the shock of a 
 fall, and he was no match for such an opponent. 
 
 Guy left him lying on the hay, a helpless mass of 
 bruises. 
 
 " Ye understand, I trust, whose wrongs I've re- 
 venged," he said, looking down at him.
 
 "'YE UNDERSTAND, I TRUST, WHOSE WRONGS I'VE REVENGED'"
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney understood. 
 
 He lay there until the sunset, then gathered himself 
 up and staggered home by the by-ways, afraid to be 
 seen. Fortunately he gained his own dressing-room 
 unobserved. He locked himself in, and turned on the 
 hot water for the bath. His face was grimly set. He 
 was thinking deeply, and, as he thought, he went me- 
 chanically through the habitual routine of bathing and 
 dressing. Dinner followed in due course, and it was 
 not until he retired to his sitting-room that he allowed 
 the distress of body from which he was suffering to 
 wring a complaint from him. 
 
 " I've had a nasty accident, Mrs. Dulditch," he said 
 to his housekeeper. 
 
 " So I see, sir," she said. " Knocked yourself." 
 
 " Yes. Ran against a tree in the twilight." 
 
 * I'll get you some raw beef," Mrs. Dulditch said, im- 
 perturbably. She had had experience of that sort of 
 accident before. 
 
 The next day, late in the afternoon, Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney appeared at Dane Court. He told the story of 
 the tree in the twilight once more to account for the state 
 of his face, and it answered admirably. 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance was greatly concerned. She 
 asked him up to her sitting-room, where, she said, the 
 light was subdued and would be better for his poor eyes. 
 She was really tender to him, and Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 felt himself soothed and comforted by her kind atten- 
 tions. 
 
 When they were alone together he squeezed her hand 
 quite in the old accustomed way. 
 
 " There is an atmosphere in this room/' he said. " I 
 never can resist it. But just for a moment I must dis- 
 turb it by something I er feel it my duty to say." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! nothing unpleasant, 1 hope," said Mrs. 
 Kingconstance. 
 
 397
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Not necessarily, but something serious, I confess 
 that is, if you take me aright," he replied. " But don't 
 ask me for any explanation. In fact, I cannot give you 
 any. There are some things a gentleman must not ex- 
 plain. All I can do is to ask a favor of you. I ask it 
 bluntly. I want you to get rid of Miss Barbara Land. 
 Please observe that I do not say a word against her. I 
 only beg that you will not keep her any longer in your 
 house." 
 
 " Dear me !" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed. " I un- 
 derstand that you have discovered something ; but, 
 being a gentleman " 
 
 " I have nothing to say but that," Mr. Jellybond Tin- 
 ney hastily interrupted. " I hope you will not keep her 
 here. Don't hurt her feelings. Any polite excuse will 
 do. She knows that her ideas and yours on the subject 
 of education differ widely. Tell her gently that that is 
 the reason ; that you feel that you and Babs must drift 
 apart if Babs is brought up in her school ; that you did 
 not realize it at first ; but that, now that you do, you 
 feel sure she will understand and not be wounded." 
 
 " Will you just jot that down," said Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance, " and I'll learn it off by heart. Oh, dear ! how 
 easy everything is when I have you here to advise I" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney did his best to look love at the 
 lady out of his blackened eyes ; but the love was not in 
 him, and he could not bring himsef to say the word which 
 would have made the lady his forever. He pleaded his 
 shocking appearance as an excuse for not seeing the 
 rest of the family, and hurried home. 
 
 " That's the lowest thing I've ever done," he said to 
 himself as he went. " That's the lowest thing I've 
 ever done," he repeated. " But what else could 1 do ? 
 Self-preservation, you're responsible for manv a scurvy 
 trick I" 
 
 Over his wine that night he made the same assertion, 
 
 398
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and asked the same question of himself repeatedly; 
 and each time that he did so he emptied his glass and 
 refilled it, contrary to his habit. 
 
 Next day he complained of his head to Mrs. Dulditch, 
 and blamed that nasty accident. Mrs. Dulditch made 
 no remark she had noticed the empty bottles. 
 
 As Mr. Jellybond Tinney stayed at home until he had 
 recovered his good looks, the news of his accident was 
 not much bruited about. If the girls at Dane Court 
 heard of it they did not mention it, because they did 
 not care a bit whether he were bruised or not ; and Mrs. 
 Kingconstance was silent on the subject because of a 
 certain delicacy she felt about bringing his name into 
 any conversation. Barbara Land and Guy Spice also 
 held their peace from personal motives ; so that little 
 Miss Spice was unaware of the dramatic episode by 
 which her wrongs had been avenged. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney thought much of Miss Spice 
 during his incarceration. By day, wandering about his 
 own grounds, feeling all out of sorts, he mourned the loss 
 of Barbara. At night, with the wine-bottle beside him, 
 he thought of Ally. His mind recurred incessantly to 
 his earliest experiences in Danehurst to the days when, 
 as it seemed to him now, he had been young and jocund 
 and Ally had befriended him. He was full of hope in 
 those days. All his experiences had been new and 
 pleasing. Alas ! how imperfectly he had realized his 
 happiness ! Poor little Ally ! blue eyes and flaxen 
 hair. Thin, certainly ; but genuine genuine Chip- 
 pendale. 
 
 His retrospective regrets exhaled in a deep sigh. He 
 took another glass of wine, and thought of Barbara. 
 To do him justice, the lowest thing he had ever done 
 troubled him quite as much as the loss of the lady. He 
 felt no resentment towards Guy Spice. The fight, he 
 considered, had been a fair fight. What did make him 
 
 399
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 writhe was the thought that Barbara had witnessed 
 his discomfiture. But for that, they might have met 
 again. As it was, what else could he do ? 
 
 He took another glass of wine. 
 
 Signs of the disorder of his mind were already ap- 
 parent about him. 
 
 That apartment of his, so original in arrangement 
 and design, so admirably kept, as a rule, had suffered 
 some severe shocks of late. One night, when whiskey 
 had been his beverage, he had boxed the lyre, and left it 
 prostrate on the floor the poor instrument which he 
 had so loved for its form. But it was precisely its form 
 and title which was the poor instrument's present of- 
 ence. 
 
 " You, grinning at me there," he had said, suddenly 
 catching sight of it " boasting of your form. I should 
 like to know the difference between your form and mine, 
 you you lyre. Bad formish when you're out of con- 
 dition ; good form good formish a gentleman. Garr ! 
 I can't abide a lyre." 
 
 The harp had also suffered. He had recommended 
 it to go to Tara's Halls, and given it a kick one night, 
 a casual sort of kick, as he staggered past it, which had 
 sent it spinning down the long room, doing damage as 
 it went, as though bent on self-destruction and revenge. 
 
 But these ebullitions were in the early days of his 
 humiliation and bereavement. Afterwards he spared 
 the furniture and attacked himself, his character and 
 conduct. 
 
 The witch in red ribbons came to see him one night. 
 She had come to charge him with neglect ; but when 
 she discovered his condition her own sense of wrong 
 was obliterated by consternation. 
 
 " Whatever has come to you, Tinney," she cried, 
 wringing her hands. " Never in your life have you 
 been such a fool as this." 
 
 400
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " It's on'y a phashe, my dear madam/' he hiccoughed, 
 with an attempt at his grand manner ; " a mosht de- 
 plorable phashe, I 'low, but 'tmush pash." 
 
 The old woman rose up sternly. 
 
 " You come to me, and I'll cure you," she said, in the 
 tone and with the emphasis of one who shakes a stick 
 and threatens chastisement. She left him abruptly 
 left him cogitating. 
 
 That night he had been thinking of Ally Spice again. 
 The witch in red ribbons had interrupted his medita- 
 tions ; but when she had gone he resumed them. The 
 window was wide open and the moonlight streamed into 
 the veranda. The nightingales were in full song. He 
 was haunted by a vague reminiscence. He took some 
 more wine. Its first effect was to strengthen his recol- 
 lection. 
 
 Serenade ! That was the word he wanted. Then 
 he groped about in his mind among cats and hot water 
 till he found Miss Spice. Poor little Ally ! But the 
 water was warm ; on that score, at all events, he had 
 nothing with which to reproach himself. Besides, she 
 should not have serenaded him. That was putting the 
 cart before the horse " blasted New Woman sort of 
 business disturbs balance balance must be put right." 
 
 Here his head dropped on his chest, and a somnolent 
 interval ensued. 
 
 When it passed he gathered himself up slowly, and 
 solemnly addressed the surrounding objects. 
 
 " Balance musht be set ri'," he said. " When found 
 make a note of and don't you forget it. Let's toasht 
 sentiment." 
 
 He poured himself out a bumper, raised it to his lips un- 
 steadily and drained it, then staggered from the room. 
 
 2C 401
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 CTLE Miss Spice could not sleep. 
 She had thrown wide her casement, for the night 
 was close, and music and moonlight streamed 
 in upon her the notes of the nightingale and 
 the rays which ever illumine the pages of pure romance. 
 
 The best part of Miss Spice's life had been passed in 
 an atmosphere of pure romance. There it was that she 
 had sought solace and found it in the midst of dire priva- 
 tions. When the people who patronized her wounded 
 her with the cold shoulder of indifference, she had been 
 wont to escape into a congenial atmosphere of knights 
 and dames, whose manners were as considerate as they 
 were stately, while their noble natures bore a suspicious 
 resemblance to her own in that they were all gentle and 
 good and kind and true. 
 
 But since her nephew came into her life it had been 
 well with Miss Spice. He had taught her not to care 
 whether the county smiled or frowned. In his shrewd 
 way he had touched upon the weaknesses of the women 
 whose intermittent notice had hitherto been her joy and 
 sorrow, and had exposed the meanness of their tactics 
 with the gentle ridicule which divests a cherished idol of 
 its false divinity without wounding the feelings of the 
 devotee. Miss Spice, stimulated with good food and 
 gentle satire, had already, on one occasion, smilingly 
 declined to act on a meddling piece of gratuitous good 
 advice from Lad3^ May. Yet Miss Spice was still 
 her own dear, little, simple-minded self, unspoiled, only 
 
 402
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 strengthened. She still walked with her gallant knights 
 in realms of faery, still gave of her best to all her world, 
 and still loved Mr. Jellybond Tinney, the dear, dear 
 man. 
 
 She was thinking of him that night as she lay awake 
 listening to the nightingales. She had nothing much 
 to recollect that was entirely satisfactory ; but suppos- 
 ing 
 
 And so, supposing, she wandered away into most 
 luxurious surroundings, and there reclined in an easy- 
 chair, covered with pale-pink brocade. She had a fan in 
 her hand, for the night was hot ; her ringlets streamed 
 over a pale-blue satin cushion pale pink and pale blue 
 consort together, she was careful to remind herself and 
 there must be some pale green as well in the carpet, say, 
 and on the chairs, and white upon the walls, as in the 
 Pompadour room at Dane Court. In the elegant cos- 
 tume she wore, all these delicate shades were exquisitely 
 combined, and the lace upon it was such as an empress 
 might admire. Through the open window she beheld 
 the stately trees, standing out dim, shadowy, and mys- 
 terious. From out the balmy depths of their summer 
 foliage the nightingales challenged each other, their 
 heavenly songs swelling in most melodious rivalry. 
 Here she awoke to consider that last sweet phrase, not 
 quite sure that it was all her own. She was off again, 
 however, before she had settled the question. And now 
 the night held one enchantment more. So far it had 
 been a nun's night, with something sadly wanting to it. 
 But presently there was seen, adown the farthest forest 
 glade, a magnificent horseman slowly approaching. 
 He dismounted. He knotted his reins to a branch. 
 He passed out from under the shade of the trees into the 
 moonlight, deliberately, with a confident martial air. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney in helmet, tunic, top-boots, and 
 tights, would have strongly resembled him. Beneath 
 
 43
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 her lattice he paused, and gazed upward enraptured. 
 Soft, he singvS ! sings in an undertone, vibrating with 
 emotion and quite in the professional manner ! The 
 lady gathered that the whirligig of time had turned 
 had turned ; that she had been amply avenged amply 
 avenged ; that her serenader was er the rolling 
 stone, the rolling stone that gathers er that gathers 
 remorse. And the balance must be restored. 
 
 Miss Spice did not, at first, believe her ears. By de- 
 grees, however, it dawned upon her that the vibrant voice 
 was the voice of an actual singer who knew how to sing. 
 Slowly she gathered herself up in bed, and, as she did 
 so, it seemed to her that her hair stood on end with emo- 
 tion. 
 
 She tore from its peg the one suitable garment she had, 
 an elegant tea-gown, a surprise present from Babs. 
 She slipped it on in trembling haste, and stepped light- 
 ly to the casement. She leaned forth. Her tresses 
 streamed out upon the night. 
 
 He stood below, propped up against the porch. He 
 wore a frock coat and silk hat so appropriate ! his cos- 
 tume when first they met ! His legs were encased in 
 white silk " underwear," for he had forgotten his trousers 
 when he changed out of evening dress a detail un- 
 observed by Miss Spice. 
 
 " At last 1" she just breathed, clasping her hands. 
 
 Unfortunately, at that moment the front door opened, 
 and her nephew stepped forth. He looked the serenader 
 up and down. 
 
 " Well, I'm jiggered !" was the coarse expression that 
 escaped him. 
 
 Miss Spice hastily withdrew from the casement, and 
 began to pace the room in great agitation. What 
 should she do ? Should she rush to the rescue ? It was 
 all quite right in romance, of course, that her serenader 
 should be caught in the act ; but oh, dear I in reality it 
 
 404
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 was not nice. What was that ? Voices in angry alter- 
 cation ? No. It was her nephew laughing laughing ! 
 Oh ! ! ! how could he ? 
 
 Courage came of her indignation ; she ran down-stairs. 
 The hall door stood wide open. Her nephew leaned 
 against the doorpost, apparently in convulsions. She 
 looked beyond, and saw, by the bright moonlight, framed 
 in the aperture, Mr. Jellybond Tinney on the lawn, 
 gyrating in a frantic dance. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Ally, dear," Guy Spice sobbed, with laugh- 
 ter, " will ye, to yer dying day, ever see the like o' that 
 again ! Old Tinney 's as drunk as a fiddler." 
 
 " Guy 1 Guy ! Guy !" cried little Miss Spice, in an 
 agonized voice ; " it's not that I He has been smitten 
 with madness. I know I know he has. Do, do, if you 
 love me, succor him in his affliction." 
 
 " You run off to bed, Aunt Ally, dear," her nephew 
 answered, wiping his eyes. " I'll take him home all 
 right, and see to him. Don't fret. He'll get over it, I 
 promise you." 
 
 When Mr. Jellybond Tinney awoke to consciousness 
 next day the sun was setting. He was undressed and 
 in his own bed ; but how he got there he was not in a 
 state to determine, mental activity being suspended for 
 the moment by physical distress. He managed to 
 murmur " damn " to himself several times ; then he 
 rang for a drink. 
 
 The first thing he thought of when he began to revive 
 was the witch in red ribbons, and her last remark : 
 " You come to me, and I'll cure you." 
 
 He had entered upon this last deplorable phase with- 
 out intention and he excused himself on that score ; 
 but if he were not to be swamped by it, he would have to 
 intend to get himself out of it. That was clear to him 
 as he lay there, afraid to move for the pain in his head, 
 
 405
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 and suffering also much mental distress for the pass to 
 which he had brought himself. 
 
 Late that night he arrived at Thorne Lodge. The 
 witch in red ribbons was seated in her dark oak parlor, 
 dealing her cards. She drew up her slender figure, and 
 fixed her keen dark eyes upon him contemptuously 
 when he entered, then silently finished the deal. 
 
 " Well, you're a nice one I" she said, at last. * Are you 
 sober by any chance ?" 
 
 " Quite," he answered, meekly ; " but my head's in an 
 awful state, and I'm all tremulous." 
 
 " Come this way," she said, " and I'll give you a tonic." 
 
 He followed her into the back kitchen. 
 
 " Take off your coat and collar and neck-tie," she said, 
 " and put your head under the tap." 
 
 He obeyed her, and she turned the water on. The 
 cold, strong stream made him wince. 
 
 " Persevere," she commanded. 
 
 He persevered for some minutes. 
 
 "How is that?" she said* at last, turning off the 
 water. 
 
 " Better," he answered. 
 
 She gave him a rough towel, and led the way back to 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 " A douche is most refreshing," he remarked, pleasant- 
 ly, scrubbing away hard with the towel as he spoke. 
 
 The old lady grunted. 
 
 " Look here," she said, " we're not going to have any 
 more of this nonsense." 
 
 " I've had a nasty knock," said Mr. Jeliybond Tinney. 
 " Don't be too hard on me." 
 
 " As if you never had a knock before !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, I've had knocks in plenty," he rejoined ; " but 
 this one was the worst of all. She refused me." 
 
 " Mrs. Kingconstance ?" 
 
 "No. Miss Land." 
 
 406
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me you've been wasting time on 
 that baggage ?" she demanded. 
 
 " It was on the cards," he answered, sulkily. "And it's 
 all over, anyway. I mean to pull myself together now, 
 and go through with the other business if I can. But 
 I'm not the man I was. It's luxury that demoralizes. 
 I've gone to pieces since I took to it. My will's nowhere." 
 
 She considered him attentively. 
 
 " Six foot one, if you're an inch," she said, with wither- 
 ing contempt ; " and no forrorder. You've no spirit, 
 Tinney. If I'd been in your place, I'd have led the 
 county by now." 
 
 * You would," he answered, dejectedly. 
 
 " I'm about tired of you," she pursued. " Nature made 
 me for cities and society, and here have I been wasting 
 precious years of my life in this hole, dangling about 
 after you, and drove to church reg'lar twice on Sundays, 
 for want of something better to do." 
 
 * What we enjoy here is rural felicity " Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney began. 
 
 " Rural humbug," she interrupted. " You'll not get 
 over me with your fine phrases. Don't I know when you 
 put on that style, hey ?" 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, still in his shirt-sleeves, and 
 without collar and tie, sat in a despondent attitude, with 
 his eyes fixed absently on the cards spread out on the 
 table. 
 
 " I'm about tired of you, Tinne} 7 ," the old lady re- 
 peated, " Either you pull yourself together now, once 
 for all, and crown your career with a marriage and a seat 
 in Parliament, as it's still on the cards for you to do; 
 else you give it up, and I give it up, and you go to the 
 devil your own way. Your luck's bound up in me. If 
 I forsake you, you're done." 
 
 He sat a few more minutes, silently cogitating ; then 
 he got up. 
 
 407
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 * I'll pull myself together," he said. 
 
 The handsome old lady's dark eyes gleamed, a smile 
 irradiated her countenance. 
 " That's my man," she said. 
 
 * Yes, I'll pull myself together," he repeated, gathering 
 strength from the resolution, and becoming more him- 
 self as he proceeded. "All is not lost, nor nearly lost, 
 for there are still good eating and drinking ; there are 
 laughter and pleasant talk ; there are ease of body and 
 mind, and as good fish in the sea as the one er as the 
 one that bit me. These things are not ecstasy they 
 are not Barbara Land ; but they are something." 
 
 A week later the county was convulsed by the news 
 that Mrs. Kingconstance was engaged to Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney. Scepticism at first prevailed among the 
 ladies ; they refused to believe. When at last it be- 
 came certain that there was no mistake, a wave of hyster- 
 ical emotion washed the forlorn feminine element of the 
 neighborhood to Mr. Worringham's feet. A cruel sense 
 of sinfulness had come upon them they craved to con- 
 fess, they demanded spiritual consolation imperatively. 
 
 The good vicar was staggered by some of the con- 
 fidences he received. That Fanny Sturdy and Florence 
 Japp should have given their hearts to the same hand- 
 some, eligible, if elderly, bachelor was not astonishing. 
 But when Mrs. Normanton, that mother of many, at- 
 tributed the bad state of her soul to a weakness of her 
 heart ; and Lady May described her spiritual state as 
 parlous since there had entered into her life a dearer in- 
 terest than Sir Philip ; and the redundant Widow Japp 
 boomed in her deepest bass strong hints of horrid rival- 
 ries between mother and daughter for the hand of a 
 wretch, as a pastor of the parish he was greatly disturbed. 
 
 There was a vein of genuine sincerity in Mr. Jelly- 
 bond Tinney. He was wont to say, with doubtful orig- 
 
 408
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 inality, " Never lie, sir. If you lie, where are you ? 
 But if you tell the truth, why er there you are !" 
 
 Acting on this principle, he had been accustomed to 
 discuss himself and his habits with Mr. Worringham 
 pretty openly, and the vicar had, therefore, no difficulty 
 in fixing upon him as the cause of the ferment among 
 the ladies. The good vicar was enjoying the ferment 
 himself in a mild way. Half unconsciously he found 
 in it a welcome and a rousing change from the steady 
 monotony of his regular labors. There were days when 
 ladies poured in upon him, seeking solace ; and it was 
 all very interesting, very interesting indeed. Some- 
 times there was a lady in each sitting-room waiting to 
 consult him separately. He set his penitents various 
 spiritual exercises, and saw to it that they were con- 
 scientiously performed. Then he turned his attention 
 to Mr. Jellybond Tinney. He determined to take that 
 gentleman to task and for that purpose, late one after- 
 noon, he wended his way to the Swiss Cottage. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney, with his black eyes in the yel- 
 low stage, received him with effusion. 
 
 " Mr. Jellybond Tinney," the vicar began, somewhat 
 
 sternly, " there has come to my knowledge the fact that 
 er 
 
 He stopped short, because, as usual, from the moment 
 he came within range of Mr. Jellybond Tinney 's super- 
 abundant vitality his own mood changed. When Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney beamed blandly upon him, he beamed 
 in return, and things which a moment before had seemed 
 serious assumed a trivial aspect. In Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney's presence the vicar's attitude of mind invaria- 
 bly became the attitude of one who pokes another in the 
 ribs and playfully condones his offences with a wink. 
 
 " What is the- matter, my dear sir 1" Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney asked. " You have cause of complaint against 
 me. Out with it come ! But, first of all, sit down here 
 
 409
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 in the dining-room and drink my health. You never 
 drink anything at this time of day ? When do you 
 drink ? A little in the evening ? Then we'll make it 
 evening now." 
 
 He skipped to the grandfather clock and playfully 
 put it on. 
 
 " There," he said, " the time has come. There is no 
 time, in fact, like the present." He took some bottles 
 out of the sideboard. " It's a poor heart that never 
 er you know," he observed. " You shall have a treat, 
 I promise you, a draught of nectar which shall renew 
 your youth." 
 
 Mr. Worringham, who was smiling in spite of him- 
 self, watched Mr. Jellybond Tinney concoct the bever- 
 age. It took a long time. Drop by drop Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney distilled it from various bottles, and, as he mixed, 
 the color of the liquid changed from one delicate tint to 
 another, and finally resolved into the clear opaque of 
 the opal, in which all the various shades reappeared 
 suspended. 
 
 Mr. Worringham gazed until he became fascinated, 
 and his eyes refused to obey him when he would have 
 looked away. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney put the glass before him. He 
 looked into it dreamily, then smelt it, then raised it to 
 his lips and sipped, and, having sipped, he smiled and 
 sipped again. 
 
 " What is it ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, that is my secret," his host replied, jocosely. 
 " But I may tell you that only for one other person in this 
 neighborhood have I ever mixed that draught. That 
 person is my lady. Her health \" 
 
 He raised his own glass and drank. 
 
 " Her health !" said the vicar, and did the same. 
 "Your healths together!" he added, and emptied the 
 glass. 
 
 410
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 In silence, for a moment, he contemplated it, and then, 
 very shyly, he pushed it towards his host 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney did not take the hint. 
 
 " You wanted to see me," he said, breaking the pause. 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Worringham answered. " These wom- 
 en" 
 
 He spoke impatiently. 
 
 " Oh, indeed," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. " They've 
 been worrying about my marriage, I suppose. But what 
 difference can that make to them ?" 
 
 " Well, I hope it will make this difference," said Mr. 
 Worringham, whose tongue was singularly loosened 
 for once. " In fact er you must give up making love 
 to them." 
 
 " But, my dear sir," Mr. Jellybond Tinney remon- 
 strated, " that is my way of making myself agreeable. 
 When I think of the paucity of men in this country of 
 all those who are drafted off as soldiers and sailors, for 
 instance and of these poor, dear women pining for 
 them, I could turn Mohammedan, my dear sir. Tut ! 
 tut ! I could indeed." 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney was so overcome with sym- 
 pathy and indignation that he had to wipe his eyes. 
 
 " What has a woman to look forward to in life but her 
 love-time," he proceeded "her little love-time? It's 
 soon over, I assure you the best part of it. Women 
 should all be allowed an aftermath of sentiment. It 
 would really be better for most women if they had two 
 husbands one to minister to their spiritual necessities 
 and their aspirations exclusively, and the other for 
 the usual better-and-worse-till-death-us-do-part business. 
 Ladies we know here in this neighborhood are quite 
 satisfied with their husbands as husbands ; but the 
 diviner side of their natures was starved until I came. 
 What was my role ? Why, benefactor of my species. 
 The homes that I have made happy, the homes in which 
 
 411
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 discontent once reigned, are er numerous, I assure 
 you. Women, women especially. There is only one 
 way to benefit women. Love them. I love them all ! 
 Short or tall, fat or lean, ugly or beautiful, I love them, 
 and I make love to them. Poor dears !" he exclaimed. 
 " I should like to marry them all !" 
 
 " fie !" said Mr. Worringham, shaking a playful fin- 
 ger at him. 
 
 " If it were moral," Mr. Jellybond Tinney added, im- 
 pressively. 
 
 " Admirable sentiment," said the vicar, caught by the 
 word moral. " You always do the right thing yes, 
 yes. I can trust you. But you're too fond of your 
 joke, perhaps." 
 
 " Many a true word may be spoken in er an under- 
 tone," Mr. Jellybond Tinney assured him. 
 
 The vicar assented to this with a nod. Then he rose, 
 looked at the empty glass a moment regretfully, then 
 gave it another little push towards his host. 
 
 But Mr. Jellybond Tinney was wisely obdurate. 
 
 For even as it was, the gentle vicar never knew how he 
 got home. 
 
 Little Miss Spice had been in a state of exaltation 
 ever since the night of the serenade. Florence Japp 
 took her the news of Mr. Jellybond Tinney's perfidy. 
 
 " Do you understand it ?" Florence demanded, her 
 dark, handsome face blotched with restrained emotion. 
 
 " Yes, I understand it," Ally said, solemnly. " He is 
 mad. I tell you, for I know. I know that he is mad." 
 
 She met Mr. Jellybond Tinney by accident one even- 
 ing, on the very spot on which they had met on that 
 never-to-be-forgotten summer evening when oh, dear 1 
 when he was not mad. 
 
 They shook hands. 
 
 He looked into her eyes reproachfully. 
 
 412
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Ally/' he said, " I still await your kind congratula- 
 tions." 
 
 " Mr. Jellybond Tinney," she replied, and to her dy- 
 ing day she could recall just how she said it "Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney, I cannot congratulate you, for I do 
 not consider you a responsible person at the present 
 moment. Had you been yourself, you would never, no, 
 you would never have given your hand where your 
 heart can never be." 
 
 " Oh, Ally ! you make me a responsible being again 
 for a moment," he ejaculated, raising his eyes to the 
 evening sky. " How ineffectual is the human and finite 
 reason of man 1 how sublime the woman's divine intu- 
 ition ! Good-bye, Ally I" 
 
 He held out his hand. 
 
 She gave him hers. 
 
 He clasped it to his heart a moment, and during that 
 moment there came to her that soothing sense of in- 
 evitability which takes the sting from untoward circum- 
 stances and makes blame an injustice. 
 
 Thus was her hero restored to little Miss Spice, a vic- 
 tim of fate. Victims of fate were they both he, smit- 
 ten as he was by that strange malady ; she, bereft of all 
 all but the happy past.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 BABS took Barbara's departure philosophically 
 enough ; but once she was gone Babs missed 
 her. Insensibly, just by being herself, Bar- 
 bara had influenced her pupil ; but neither of 
 them was aware of the fact. So Barbara made her es- 
 cape from Dane Court gladly, because the sense of fail- 
 ure weighed upon her ; and Babs felt her loss without 
 knowing what it was that particularly depressed her. 
 Barbara had made her keep regular hours, and do a 
 certain amount of work every day ; and the occupation, 
 although often irksome, was always a distraction. Now 
 she had absolutely nothing to do that she must do. She 
 sang a little, read a little, rode, walked, loitered about 
 for the most part loitered about, restlessly ; and the old 
 yearning ache at her heart grew ever more importunate. 
 Montacute was still at home, but they were no longer 
 close companions, as they used to be. Always preco- 
 cious, he had now quite ceased to be a boy. In another 
 year he would be of age, and he had already begun to 
 interest himself in his property. The way in which he 
 had taken the announcement of his mother's engage- 
 ment to Mr. Jellybond Tinney had been a surprise to 
 everybody. Mrs. Kingconstance had thought it neces- 
 sary to excuse herself, to assume an apologetic tone. 
 
 " My dear mother, why shouldn't you marry him if 
 you like ?" Montacute asked. " I'm sure he's not a bad 
 old boy. You've nearly done with me, you know, and 
 it's a good thing you've found some one to take care of 
 
 414
 
 YOU MIGHT AT LEAST HAVE WAITED UNTIL I WAS MARRIED
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 you. It's your turn to be taken care of now. My minor- 
 ity must have been a long, trying business to you, and 
 such a tie, besides, keeping you here at Dane Court so 
 long. I congratulate you." 
 
 Mrs. Kingconstance understood him. She knew what 
 he meant by the cruel contraction of her heart, the pang 
 of the mother dismissed. 
 
 " Thank you, dear Cute," she said, with a dry sob and 
 a perfunctory kiss. " Of course, when you're of age, 
 you'll want your house to yourself." 
 
 " Oh, but equally of course you won't turn out in any 
 hurry," he replied, magnanimously. " Naturally my 
 house is my mother's as long as it suits her to live 
 in it." 
 
 It did not escape her that he left her with a light step, 
 glad to have got the business settled ; and she was 
 deeply wounded. He had given her notice to go, her 
 only son, to go from the home of her husband, the home 
 of the best years of her life, the home she had made a 
 happy one for him. She would in any case have offered 
 to go when he came of age, as a matter of course ; he 
 need not have turned her out. She had certainly done 
 well to accept Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 Julia was furious about her mother's engagement. 
 " You might at least have waited until I was married, 
 mamma," she said ; " or, at all events, if you must marry 
 at your age, you need not have married beneath you." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance merely shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " You don't think it foolish, Lorraine ?" Mrs. King- 
 constance asked, deprecatingly. 
 
 " No," her sister-in-law answered. " I think it quite 
 natural. Why shouldn't you be happy in your own 
 way ? I wish to goodness I had had the sense to make 
 my life for myself, instead of letting it be marred by 
 other people. However, it is not too late !" 
 
 She smiled to herself as at some pleasant prospect. 
 
 415
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 She had struck out for herself in a new direction during 
 these last few years. Much of her time was now spent 
 in London, where she did something vague which had 
 had the happy effect of restoring her youth. A purpose 
 in life had increased her vitality; she was all energy 
 now, and interest a new woman. 
 
 Babs had no feeling whatever on the subject of her 
 mother's marriage. Old Jelly bond had always been 
 about within her recollection, and it did not seem to her 
 that it made the slightest difference whether her mother 
 married him or not. 
 
 " So long as he does not assume papa airs with me, I 
 don't mind," was all that she said. 
 
 In those days she did not care about anything realty 
 but Cadenhouse. She often dreamed at night that the 
 light from the tower was streaming in upon her, and 
 started up, wide awake, only to find her room in dark- 
 ness ; and then she w r ould lie awake, and toss and toss 
 feverishly for hours. 
 
 * I must care for him greatly," she said to herself. 
 
 At last, one night, before she had slept at all, and just 
 when she was thinking least about it, on a sudden the 
 glow-worm radiance illumined her room. She was not 
 startled. The light had the effect of a tender message, 
 gently delivered. Her whole being was suffused by 
 something analogous in the way of emotion, a certain 
 sort of gladness that had some indefinable characteristic 
 in common with the light. 
 
 " He is there," she said to herself, " there at last just 
 across the valley. But oh ! what miles away that 
 means ! Oh, to be back in the old days when I dared to 
 go to the tower. When shall we meet ? When shall we 
 meet ? And where ? and where ?" 
 
 She could not sleep that night, she could not rest next 
 day. All life had been resolved into a cruel ache of 
 expectation. 
 
 416
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I can't stand this long, you know/' she said to her- 
 self. " If I don't end it, it will end me." 
 
 At first she stayed in-doors ; then she took to wander- 
 ing about. Sometimes she rode an impossible distance, 
 and sometimes she walked. But she never went near 
 the tower. 
 
 One afternoon she called upon Ally Spice and con- 
 fided in her, as she had been wont to do all her life ; and 
 the dear little woman had made her take tea and hot 
 buttered toast, and had comforted her. 
 
 " I know, I know, my dear," she said. " I've been 
 through it all myself, and it hurts, the heartache hurts. 
 Fate was against us, but I seem to see that it is not 
 against you. It will all come right, my dear. I seem to 
 see that it will." 
 
 It was on that evening, as Babs walked home alone, 
 that they met at last. 
 
 Cadenhouse was coming from Dane Court, riding 
 thoughtfully. He was taken unawares, and looked at 
 her a moment before he recognized her, then gravely 
 raised his hat and passed on. Always before he had 
 dismounted when they met, and turned back with her, 
 leading his horse. 
 
 At dinner that night Miss Kingconstance was looking 
 unusually well. 
 
 " What's the matter ?" Babs asked her, irritably. 
 " You are all irradiated, as if you were lighted up inside 
 by electricity." 
 
 " I am," said Miss Kingconstance. " I'm happy." 
 
 They had walked together that day, she and Caden- 
 house, down the green alleys of the park, talking long 
 and earnestly. He was on his way back from a formal 
 call at Dane Court when he overtook her. He had made 
 that call on his return from abroad as the best way of 
 bridging over the episode between himself and Babs. 
 
 " May I compliment you on your appearance, Lor- 
 2D 417
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 raine ?" he said, when he had dismounted and they had 
 shaken hands. " The last time we walked here together 
 I was alarmed for you ; but now you look yourself 
 again." 
 
 She smiled at him. 
 
 " I cannot return the compliment/' she said ; " for you 
 are not looking at all yourself as I have hitherto known 
 
 you." 
 
 Cadenhouse adjusted his horse's rein on his arm, but 
 made no answer. She saw, however, that he had heard 
 what she said, and was considering her words. 
 . " Yes, you have changed," she continued ; " and upon 
 the whole, I like the change. You have come down to 
 earth. Your habit was to hold yourself too much aloof 
 from your fellow-creatures." 
 
 " I do not like the change myself," he said. " I hope 
 to change back again. The truth is, I had a bad fall, 
 and was much shaken, but now I am recovering." 
 
 " Alas !" sighed Miss Kingconstance. " You of all 
 men who might do so much good here below if only you 
 would spare us a little time from the perfecting of your 
 own soul ! You are inconsistent, Cadenhouse. You 
 ought not, with your ideas, to be a rich man." 
 
 " I grant that I should not use riches for myself," he 
 answered. " But in this age, what would it profit the 
 cause of happiness if I became a beggar ? I would fain 
 make the whole world happy, but the only world I can 
 get at is the little world on my own estate. Still, if every 
 man did as much as I " 
 
 He broke off, for the thought, as it found expression, 
 was somewhat self-righteous. 
 
 More than once a qualm of this kind had come to 
 disturb him lately. He had certainly done his duty 
 generously on his own estates ; but, except for that, he 
 had taken no part in the life of the place, neither as an 
 active agent nor as an onlooker. He knew practically 
 
 418
 
 nothing at all about his neighbors. He had lived the 
 life of a recluse looking up allowing his splendid in- 
 fluence and great personal prestige to lapse, unexercised. 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney might lord it over the ladies about 
 him, Miss Spice's good little heart might be broken, 
 Miss Kingconstance might suffer the martyrdom of an 
 aimless existence until her brilliant wits went wrong, 
 and Babs he made impossible forever ; and Caden- 
 house, left to himself, cultivating compassion up there 
 in his high tower, holding himself secluded in an atmos- 
 phere of heavenly thought, the most ecstatic atmosphere 
 of all, would have sailed on into eternity serenely un- 
 aware of these catastrophes. And he had come back 
 now fully prepared to take up the old life just where it had 
 been interrupted by the intrusion of human nature in the 
 seductive person of Babs the Impossible. His seclusion 
 was all the more to be regretted because the man was 
 extraordinary. He said so little, yet, wherever he had 
 been, there remained, so long as the recollection of his 
 words weighed with those who heard them, that strange 
 expansion of heart, that beautiful release from weariful 
 thought which is happiness. A man with this particu- 
 lar power wrongs the world to a criminal extent if, for 
 purposes of his own, he limits the sphere of his influence 
 by seeking seclusion. 
 
 They had walked on together in silence after that last 
 remark. 
 
 As usual, when she was with him, a great calm had 
 fallen upon Miss Kingconstance. Babs was a little 
 human being, with body, soul, and spirit all battling in 
 her at once, each claiming its separate satisfaction. 
 The life of suppression which had been forced on Miss 
 Kingconstance had made her dependent upon her in- 
 tellect for such solace as she could grasp ; her other at- 
 tributes had died of atrophy for want of exercise. But 
 intellect without spirituality is like affection without 
 
 419
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 kindness; it does not warm the heart. Therefore her 
 companionship was grateful to Cadenhouse just at this 
 moment, when all his energy was directed towards sup- 
 pressing in himself that which had responded so unex- 
 pectedly to the human nature of Babs. 
 
 " You say I am looking rrryself again, Cadenhouse," 
 Miss Kingconstance ventured, after a long pause. " Do 
 you know why ? Do you know to what I owe the happy 
 change ?" 
 
 " No," he answered. 
 
 " To you to your influence." 
 
 He looked straight ahead of him, reflecting. 
 
 " I am glad," he said ; but she could see that he was 
 puzzled. 
 
 " Is it so slight a thing to you to release a fellow- 
 creature from the curse of madness that you do not 
 even know when you exercise the power ?" she asked. 
 
 " But you were never mad, Lorraine 1" he answered, 
 startled. 
 
 " I was mad. I was suffering from morbid self-con- 
 sciousness. Day and night I thought only of myself 
 of my own tragic condition. I was devoured with 
 rage and hate and bitterness. Our good old vicar was 
 the first to help me. He said something to me once by 
 which I afterwards profited afterwards, when you had 
 taken me out of myself. I complained to him one day. 
 ' You give no sympathy/ he said. ' I get so little/ I 
 answered. ' It is not the sympathy we receive our- 
 selves but the sympathy we expend upon others that 
 avails to help us/ " he replied. 
 
 Cadenhouse hitched up the bridle on his arm and 
 looked on ahead. 
 
 " Do you feel that ?" said Miss Kingconstance. 
 
 " It may be so," he said. 
 
 " I told him I was mad," she pursued. " ' No, no, 
 you are not mad/ he said. ' Madness is disease of the 
 
 420
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 brain, organic disease. Your malady is disease of the 
 moral nature. You have brought it on yourself ; you 
 can cure yourself !' ' How ?' I asked. But that was 
 all he could do for me. He answered with the usual 
 platitudes. Then you came. Perhaps you remember 
 the day. ' The first germ of disease was propagated 
 in a malicious mind by an evil thought/ you said. 
 'What a pity our doctors don't pursue that line of re- 
 search !' I exclaimed. That set me off. Do you un- 
 derstand how ?" 
 
 " Yes/' he answered ; " for I have observed that the 
 mind once interested in ethical subjects is apt to pursue 
 them." 
 
 " Cadenhouse/' she broke out, passionately, " do you 
 think it right to live the life of a recluse, to shelter your- 
 self from contact with the world when in you lies such 
 power to help ?" 
 
 Cadenhouse looked on ahead, but did not answer. 
 
 She left the question to work. 
 
 " That was the beginning of the change in me," she 
 recommenced. " That day you restored me to mental 
 health, and started me on the career of usefulness that 
 has saved me. I feel that I have missed the great good 
 of a woman's life in that I have not married. Marriage 
 is the most perfect state ; but still " 
 
 All at once he saw her from a new point of view. That 
 a woman could feel herself wronged because celibacy 
 had been forced upon her, that it could be contrary to 
 her nature, was a possibility that had never before oc- 
 curred to him, so steeped was he in the contorted the- 
 ories of life which were dear to the morbid medisevalist. 
 Looking down at her from this new point of view, 
 he was struck with the fact that the slender, elegant, 
 daintily dressed creature beside him was an attractive 
 woman. 
 
 " But if I may venture without impertinence," 
 
 421
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 slipped from him, " why shouldn't you marry, Lor- 
 raine ?" 
 
 " Why don't you marry, Cadenhouse ?" she said, 
 laughing to cover a momentary embarrassment. 
 
 Once more he looked on ahead, and once more she left 
 the suggestion to do its work. 
 
 422
 
 CHAPTER X LV 
 
 IF the cries of our hearts could be heard, the rocks 
 would be rent with compassion. But the ears 
 of the flesh were deceived by the ominous stillness 
 which had settled upon Babs in those days. For 
 the first time in her life her chatter had ceased. Walk- 
 ing, she carried herself with a new dignity shoulders 
 back, head erect, countenance proudly set. At table, 
 too, she sat stiffly, drawn up to her full height, and an- 
 swered when addressed, but seldom joined in the con- 
 versation or volunteered a remark. They all thought 
 that her sudden haughtiness of demeanor was the con- 
 sequence of the Jellybond Tinney affair. 
 
 " It will do her good, then, that is all that I can say," 
 Mrs. Kingconstance observed to her sister-in-law, com- 
 placently, " if it makes her remember at last who she is." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance smiled. The notion of a mother 
 marrying beneath her in order to arouse a proper pride 
 of birth in her daughter appealed to her sense of humor ; 
 but she said nothing. Her soul was blossoming into 
 beauty in those days. Her wit was no longer acrid. 
 The hope in her heart made summer in her life, and 
 under its genial influence her whole nature had ripened 
 into sweetness. 
 
 But Babs's attitude was in no way the consequence of 
 the Jellybond Tinney business. She was absorbed in 
 her own affairs, that was all. " Cadenhouse ! Caden- 
 house ! Cadenhouse !" was the cry of her heart day 
 and night ; and not all her latent strength of character, 
 
 423
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 which she did her best to summon to the task from the 
 secret recesses of her being, availed to stifle it. She had 
 felt herself slighted by the coldness of his salutation 
 when at last they met, and had drawn herself up, proudly 
 resentful ; and so she had remained, but only outwardly. 
 Inwardly she humbled herself in the dust before him, 
 and her heart went out to him entreating, imploring : 
 " Cadenhouse ! Cadenhouse ! Cadenhouse !" 
 
 One day he had come to lunch, and on that occasion 
 she had borne herself bravely, rattling on as had been 
 her wont. No one would have suspected that she had 
 to make a mighty effort to recapture her old self ; but it 
 seemed to her that Cadenhouse saw through the pose, 
 knew she was suffering, and remained cold and calm 
 and indifferent. The thing which takes the light out of 
 life is the eye, become critical, which was once affection- 
 ate and admiring. Babs was stung to desperation. 
 
 " It can't go on like this, you know, "she said to her- 
 self. 
 
 When she made her escape from the table she rushed 
 headlong out of the house, and on and on until she came 
 to a secluded spot on the Wyldeholme property, where the 
 bank sloped down to the rivulet on the one side and up 
 again on the other steeply, and all humanity was blotted 
 out by the trees that crested the ridge. Here the in- 
 fluences the bird-calls and the murmur of running 
 water, the flutter of dainty butterflies and the inter- 
 mittent hum of the bees were all sweet natural in- 
 fluences, and gently persuasive. 
 
 She sat her down in the shade, her back resting against 
 an old gnarled tree, her elbows on her knees, her face 
 between her hands, and gazed down, woebegone, into 
 the running water. " Cadenhouse ! Cadenhouse ! Ca- 
 denhouse !" came the cry of her heart, reproachfully. 
 How could he talk so placidly to her aunt when she was 
 there ? How could he be so indifferent to her, or pre- 
 424
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 tend to be? " Cadenhouse ! Cadenhouse! Cadenhouse!" 
 came the cry of her heart, entreatingly. " Give me one 
 more chance !" 
 
 Suddenly she became aware of the water. Its babble 
 became importunate. Thought suspended itself in- 
 voluntarily; she found herself listening. She tried to 
 make out a message for herself in the inarticulate gurgle. 
 But always when she seemed on the point of success 
 something distracted her attention for a moment. Once 
 it was a cockchafer to be beaten off ; once a booming 
 bumble-bee busy among the meadow-sweet ; and once 
 a bird said something indistinct. Thus, by degrees, the 
 wholesome influences of the place took possession of her. 
 The solitude, the summer sounds, the warmth and 
 sweetness, all made for soothing. The tension of her 
 high-strung nerves relaxed. She looked about her, she 
 stretched her cramped limbs. She felt far from the 
 world. Even her trouble took on an aspect of remote- 
 ness, as if it had happened in some by-gone age and 
 mattered little now. 
 
 " Cadenhouse," she sighed to herself, loving the very 
 name. 
 
 Nature she also loved, for everywhere in nature was 
 Cadenhouse. 
 
 The sunlight crept through the leaves and rested on 
 her head. She looked about for a shadier spot. Be- 
 neath the trees the grass had been recently cut, and was 
 now piled up in little heaps of hay. She collected enough 
 to make a bed for herself, and a pillow ; then she took 
 off her hat and settled herself at full length, her head 
 resting on her arm, her eyes on the running water. The 
 influences of the hour became importunate. Her eyelids 
 flickered, fell, and were finally sealed in sleep. 
 
 She made a pretty picture lying there, a picture of per- 
 fect girlish beauty shell-pink and pearl-white, sensi- 
 tive, refined, intelligent. The sun sought her out once 
 
 425
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 more, peeping through the leaves, then sent a happy ray 
 to light her. 
 
 A young man who was loitering past at the moment 
 saw the ray fall from the foliage, and followed it with 
 idle eye to its resting-place. 
 
 "Just the nook for a nymph," he said to himself, 
 stopping short. "And what a set for a play, lime-light 
 and all ! I must make a note of it for Oliver !" 
 
 He took out a note-book, and drew a horizontal line 
 which he labelled " nymph " ; some vertical lines which 
 he called " trees " ; a diagonal line for " lime-light " ; 
 a few scratches for " bank " ; and some nourishes for 
 " water." 
 
 As he closed the book Babs opened her eyes. 
 
 She looked at him unintelligently for a moment, then 
 she took her arm from under her head and sat up. As 
 she did so she uttered an exclamation. 
 
 " My arm's asleep," she explained. 
 
 " Let me help you," he said, holding out his hand. 
 
 " Don't come within a mile of me," she cried, with a wry 
 laugh. " It's in the stage of pins and needles now. It'll 
 pass off in a moment." 
 
 As she spoke it occurred to her that the young man 
 standing there looking down upon her, whom she was 
 taking into her confidence so completely and unaffected- 
 ly, was an absolute stranger. 
 
 She looked up at him to consider him in this new 
 light. 
 
 " I wonder if, by any chance, you are Jeffrey Wylde ?" 
 she said, slowly rubbing her arm as she spoke. 
 
 " At your service," he answered, taking off his hat with 
 a pleasant smile. " But you have the advantage of me." 
 
 " I am Lorraine Kingconstance," she replied. 
 
 " Lorraine," he repeated, a little puzzled. " Babs, 
 perhaps ?" 
 
 " Yes, Babs," she said. 
 
 426
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 Then they smiled at each other, and the introduction 
 was complete. 
 
 " I am trying to recollect you," he said. " You were a 
 baby when I went away." 
 
 " Not quite," she said, " for I remember you. Only I 
 thought you were immensely tall." 
 
 " And you find me disappointingly short ?" 
 
 " Oh no," she answered ; " a happy medium." 
 
 Again he raised his hat and smiled. 
 
 " I'm trespassing, I suppose," she said. " We've 
 been in the habit of overrunning your property in your 
 absence, and taking tea with old Grimwood when it 
 pleased us. Do you mind ?" 
 
 " On the contrary," he answered, " I hope you will 
 always overrun my property, and take tea with old 
 Grimwood when it pleases you. Why not come now ?" 
 
 " Why not ?" she said. 
 
 She had risen, and was putting on her hat. He 
 watched her admiringly. The attitude accentuated the 
 slender lines of her figure. Her every movement was 
 graceful. 
 
 Jeffrey Wylde was short, fair, dapper, with a culti- 
 vated voice and a gently caressing manner. Voice and 
 manner together suggested refinement of mind ; but 
 the suggestion was fallacious. His only refinement was 
 of the senses. Coarse-flavored food can be refined to 
 the palate in the cooking, but the substance is the same ; 
 and in the same way a coarse mind can be disguised by 
 tricks of manner for a time. Sooner or later the dis- 
 guise becomes irksome and is cast aside. The key to 
 Jeffrey Wylde's character was to be found in the mon- 
 strosity of a mustache which he wore. 
 
 As they strolled on together towards the house he 
 asked after various people in the neighborhood. In re- 
 plying, Babs happened to mention some notable eccen- 
 tricity in each. 
 
 427
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Are they all such oddities ?" he exclaimed, at last. 
 
 " Yes, we're all rather queer hereabouts/' said Babs. 
 * Privilege of ancient families, you know. You'll be 
 queer, too, when you've been here long enough. Mam- 
 ma's the only one of us who isn't queer and Julia. 
 But then, of course, mamma isn't one of us. But, any- 
 way, they're both uninteresting, and both provoking 
 mamma, I mean, and Julia. It is mamma's laziness 
 that provokes me. I am all energy myself. I must al- 
 ways be doing, doing, doing something. Julia is pro- 
 voking in another way. There are some people who do 
 things and do them well, and you are glad for them that 
 they can ; but there are other people who do the same 
 things and make you feel you hate them for it. It is 
 because they put such an exorbitant value upon their 
 own little achievements, I think. It is a fine nature that 
 is not offensive in the hour of triumph. Julia is so 
 puffed up with her own conceit she makes you feel she 
 is boasting herself superior." 
 
 Jeffrey made a mental note of this remark. He mis- 
 took it for an indication of petty jealousy. 
 
 " Is Julia also beautiful ?" he asked. 
 
 " / think her so," Babs answered. " Then, also, she 
 is accomplished. She is a good musician and a good 
 linguist, and draws and paints well. In fact, any- 
 thing she does she does well." 
 
 Jeffrey mistook this praise for an overdone attempt to 
 cover the self-betrayal of the previous criticism. 
 
 "And what do you do ?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, I do all the appreciation. I'm audience, I'm 
 chorus, I'm everything that's encouraging to others in 
 the family circle. And I contend that, in my own way, 
 I'm useful." 
 
 " You're clever, too, I should say, if I may." 
 
 " No, I'm not clever, I'm what's the word ? I can 
 see into things ; but set me down to a book and my head 
 
 428
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 buzzes. I hate books and pictures and art and all man- 
 ufactures directty I'm asked to understand them." 
 
 * What do you like, then ?" 
 
 " Oh, the things I like are fresh air, and the smell of 
 the earth after rain, and the freedom of animals their 
 gambols, their healthiness and happiness. Do I ex- 
 plain myself ? I expect you will despise me ; but the 
 cattle in the meadows, and the awkwardness of the 
 calves, and the hares on their hind-legs, nosing round 
 for their enemies, and the bunnies at sunset feeding, 
 and all on the alert for surprises these things touch 
 some chord of delight in me that makes paint on can- 
 vas, poetry on paper, and all your other arts no more 
 to me than a wax flower is to the real red rose. These 
 things " she indicated all nature with a wave of her 
 hand " these things include me, you see ; they make 
 me part of the poem." 
 
 " But," he began, tentatively, " if Nature in the ab- 
 stract moves you so much, what joy will there be left 
 for Nature in the concrete to give you ?" 
 
 " What do you mean by Nature in the concrete ?" 
 
 " I mean love." 
 
 "Ah love !" she said, softly. "With Nature in the 
 abstract I am on the earth, of course ; but when Nature 
 in the concrete comes then I shall have wings." 
 
 There was a pause. Her thoughts flew to Caden- 
 house. Jeffrey was trying to place her. Was she sim- 
 ple or was she deep ? Was she fast or was she fool- 
 ish ? He was ready to believe her to be both. 
 
 He knew human nature only from the point of view 
 of the little clique within a clique which calls itself So- 
 ciety. He had learned the life of courtesans and money- 
 grubbers, learned to live promiscuously, as society lives, 
 and lost his respect for women and his faith in men. All 
 that was subtle and complex in Babs was of necessity 
 incomprehensible to this conventional sort of society man. 
 
 429
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Babs," he began again. 
 
 Babs started from her reverie. 
 
 " I am puzzled/' he pursued. " You never read, you 
 say, you do not profess to think. Then whence comes 
 all this flow of language ?" 
 
 " From my heart, I should imagine," she answered, 
 readily ; " seeing that I have no soul so they say." 
 
 " Ah ! so you're going to set up a heart," he observed. 
 " Don't. Take my advice. Have a good time if you 
 like, and talk heart ; but don't put your own into any- 
 thing. It will hurt if you do." 
 
 " Somehow the sentiment jars," said Babs. 
 
 They were within sight of the house. 
 
 " Go on," she added. " I'll follow you." 
 
 In some surprise he obeyed. Then it occurred to him 
 that she wanted her coming to appear to be accidental, 
 that she felt some impropriety in the proceeding ; and, 
 smiling to himself, he believed that he quite understood 
 the young lady. 
 
 Babs, meanwhile, was innocently wrestling with a 
 broken boot-lace. She had on a pair of high boots, and 
 in a fit of girlish prudery she had sent him on that she 
 might be alone to tie the lace herself, for she feared he 
 would see it was loose and over - politely insist upon 
 tying it for her. 
 
 He met her on the steps. 
 
 " Grimwood is out," he said ; " but you will come in 
 all the same, I hope. I have ordered tea in the library." 
 
 He did not know if Grimwood were out or not. He, 
 a purely conventional type, judging Babs by conven- 
 tional standards, had found her wanting, and was tak- 
 ing advantage of her in the conventional way. 
 
 " You don't mind having tea with me alone ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I shall be delighted," Babs answered, indifferently. 
 
 They made merry together over the teacups. Babs 
 
 43
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 was taken out of herself for the moment, and talked as 
 she had been wont to talk to Cadenhouse and St. Lam- 
 bert talked until she became intoxicated with talk. 
 A remark of Jeffrey's pulled her up short. 
 
 " You're a horrid little flirt, Babs, are you not ?" he 
 ventured. " How many times have you been engaged 
 already ?" 
 
 " Is that the kind of question that may be asked ?" 
 Babs exclaimed, quick to resent the impertinence. 
 
 " It is the kind of question one may ask one's inti- 
 mates," he answered, a trifle disconcerted. 
 
 " I can scarcely expect to be numbered among your 
 intimates yet," she said. 
 
 " I apologize," he replied. " With some people one 
 passes through no preliminary stage of acquaintance. 
 One seems to know them all at once. I could have 
 talked to you about anything a moment ago ; now I 
 feel horribly snubbed." 
 
 " What could make you ask such a question ?" Babs 
 expostulated. " I was all at my ease with you before ; 
 now I feel all on my guard. I don't know why. I 
 never felt like that with Sir Owen St. Lambert, never !" 
 
 " He's an old fogy, isn't he ?" 
 
 Babs bridled visibly. 
 
 " Might I venture without impertinence to suppose 
 he was an admirer of yours ?" 
 
 In spite of herself, Babs smiled. The reaction from 
 the cruel tension of so many days left her liable to rapid 
 emotional changes. 
 
 " I miss him frightfully," she declared. " He is one 
 of the people you can talk to about anything, if you 
 like. He never says the wrong thing or does the wrong 
 thing " 
 
 " Only petted you when you were in the mood, I sup- 
 pose ?" Jeffrey ventured. 
 
 Babs dissolved in merriment.
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I am thinking of the day we parted," she explained. 
 " ' What sort of soap do you use ?' I shall never get over 
 that ! If it had been Cadenhouse " 
 
 Jeffrey pricked up his ears at the name. He had 
 mistaken her apparently irrelevant laughter for mere 
 levity. 
 
 " Babs," he said, with mock solemnity, " am I to un- 
 derstand that you have been trifling with Cadenhouse ?" 
 
 * No," she answered, rattling out the first thing that 
 occurred to her to cover the confusion which was caused 
 by the mere sound of his name. " Cadenhouse trifled 
 with me." 
 
 " This is serious," said Jeffrey, shaking his head. 
 " I really think I ought to improve the occasion." 
 
 " Oh, improve it, if you know how !" Babs answered, 
 at random. 
 
 She was sitting in the corner of the sofa with the tea- 
 table in front of her. Jeffrey sat down beside her, thus 
 hemming her in. He looked into her face quizzically. 
 Half laughing, half embarrassed, she returned his gaze. 
 
 " Babs," he said, " trifling with me is nothing. I'm 
 no saint. But when it comes to Cadenhouse " 
 
 " I think," said Babs, with sudden stiffness " I thin 
 we will leave Lord Cadenhouse out of the argument." 
 
 " With all my heart," said Jeffrey. " Do you knov/ 
 that that is the only nice thing you have said to me ? 
 I must thank you for it." 
 
 He took her hand. Babs tried to snatch it away, but 
 he held it fast. 
 
 " Such a pretty little hand made to be kind," he said, 
 and pressed it to his lips. 
 
 Alarmed and indignant by this time, Babs jumped 
 up, knocked over the tea-table, scattering the china in 
 all directions, wrenched herself from his grasp, and 
 made for the door. It opened as she reached it, and 
 she came into violent collision with Squire Normanton. 
 
 432
 
 "SHE CAME INTO VIOLENT COLLISION WITH SQUIRE NORMANTON "
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I beg your pardon," she said, recovering herself. 
 
 " I came to call on Jeffrey," the squire explained ; "but 
 it seems he is engaged." 
 
 He looked from the young man to the broken china 
 and grinned. 
 
 Babs made her escape. 
 
 " You'll think me a damned nuisance, I expect," the 
 squire proceeded. " But surely, you know, this is com- 
 ing it a little too strong, eh ? A young lady in the 
 county, and all that sort of thing, don't you know ?" . 
 
 * Oh, she's all right," Jeffrey answered, easily. " She 
 came to see old Grimwood. She didn't know I'd come 
 back. Grim was out, and tea was ready. Of course I 
 asked her to come in, and of course she came in without 
 any affectation or nonsense. You must remember I 
 knew her in her cradle. And just as you arrived I 
 knocked over the tea-table by an awkward accident, 
 and she made for the door to call for help " 
 
 " I see," said Squire Normanton, and passed on easily 
 to other things. 
 
 " My dear," he said to his wife when he went home, 
 " don't let the girls associate with Babs more than you 
 can help. She's coming it altogether too strong. I 
 always said she was cut out to be about as bad as they 
 make 'em." 
 
 " What's she been doing now ?" Mrs. Normanton 
 asked. 
 
 Squire Normanton gave her his own version of the 
 story, which was altogether to the discredit of Babs. 
 And that was the version which was known by the end 
 of the week to every matron in the county. 
 2E 433
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 JEFFREY called next day at Dane Court and 
 made Julia's acquaintance. Babs did not ap- 
 pear. Julia displayed her mind to the best ad- 
 vantage, the mediocre mind in whose grudg- 
 ing praise there is always a note of detraction. They 
 understood each other at once. 
 
 Julia came into the category of fine girl tall, slender, 
 upright without stiffness, self-contained, bearing herself 
 haughtily to inferiors, affably with her equals, ac- 
 knowledging no superior. She spoke of Babs in a patron- 
 izing tone. 
 
 " Babs is so erratic/' she remarked. 
 
 Afterwards Jeffrey said to himself : 
 
 " Miss Julia would do to marry ; but for fun give me 
 Babs ! By Jove ! not a bad idea," he proceeded. " When 
 two sisters are each eligible in their way, marry the right 
 one, and then there's the other always at hand, and it's 
 all in the family. It's time I married." 
 
 He made the reflection over his wine after dinner, 
 and it was quite characteristic of him that he should 
 make up his mind in that way, for he was a methodical 
 person upon the whole. He took things in regular ro- 
 tation duty, business, love. For many years now he 
 had always carried a little letter in his breast-pocket 
 not the same letter, by any means ; not even written in 
 the same handwriting. The writers had been taken in 
 rotation with the rest of his life. At the end of the day's 
 doings, while he was enjoying his last cigar, it had been 
 
 434
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 his habit to take out the little letter of the time-being and 
 read it ; and usually, as he did so, the expression of his 
 countenance was a compound of sentimental tenderness 
 and egregious self-complacency. But when he had 
 read his little letter on this occasion his attitude was 
 altered. A wood fire was smouldering upon the hearth. 
 He threw the little letter down on the hot embers and 
 watched it burn. His mind was made up. 
 
 Julia's mind was also made up. 
 
 " He'll do," she said to herself that night, in the retire- 
 ment of her own chamber. " I'll have every penny of 
 my own money settled on myself, however, in case of 
 accidents." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance, also in her own room, glowed 
 and was glad at that moment, fresh from another walk 
 and talk with Cadenhouse. 
 
 Babs was tossing about on her bed writhing 
 deeply humiliated; and always, from her heart, went 
 up a cry to Cadenhouse, a cry for help. 
 
 Down-stairs Montacute was talking to Guy Spice. 
 He had made Guy Spice his secretary, and the talk now 
 was of a tour round the world. 
 
 Far away in the East, St. Lambert was reading a letter 
 from Barbara Land. It was in answer to one from him. 
 
 " I have always loved you, my guardian," it ran. " I 
 thought I had lost you. But I bore myself with what 
 courage I could for your sake, and did, to the best of my 
 ability, the arduous duty you imposed upon me. How 
 was it you never suspected how arduous it was ? You 
 tell me that you realize now what a mistake it would 
 have been, and I need not therefore any longer disguise 
 the fact that I thought it so all along. But do not let us 
 think about that business any more. My night of 
 weeping is over and done with, and now, now I arise for 
 a glad new day of song." 
 
 435
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 St. Lambert kissed the letter. 
 
 " What a fool I very nearly was !" he muttered. 
 
 In those days Mr. Jellybond Tinney gave a quiet little 
 dinner-party. Jeffrey Wylde and Cadenhouse were the 
 first to arrive. They met on the threshold, and no sooner 
 had they alighted than the hall door opened of itself. A 
 shining device pointed the way to the cloak-room. There 
 were no servants to be seen. Jeffrey and Cadenhouse 
 lingered a little in the cloak-room, talking. 
 
 * This gentleman has a perfect genius for mechanical 
 contrivances," Cadenhouse remarked. 
 
 " Yes, he's a clever fellow," Jeffrey rejoined. " Do 
 you know anything about him ?" 
 
 " He's a man of means, I believe," Cadenhouse replied, 
 with his usual haughty indifference. 
 
 " But his family where does he come from ?" 
 
 "Ah, that I do not know." 
 
 " Does he remind you of any one ?" 
 
 * Now you mention it, yes. His voice reminds me 
 but I can't think of what." 
 
 " It's his voice that puzzles me, too. I feel as if I'd 
 heard that voice a hundred times. He's an interesting 
 fellow. A cad if you like ; but then such a royal cad, 
 a regular eighteen-carat cad without alloy. I suppose 
 you condone that, seeing that you are here." 
 
 * I am here to-night as a duty," said Cadenhouse. 
 * Partly for political purposes he is to stand as con- 
 servative candidate, you know. But also because of the 
 approaching marriage." 
 
 " Oh, that is what has brought you down from your 
 high tower, is it ?" said Jeffrey. "And quite enough too. 
 I have the very strongest objection to such a mesalliance. 
 I cannot think how a woman of position like Mrs. King- 
 constance could pick up with that sort of person." 
 
 * I never thought about it I was really indifferent/' 
 
 436
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 said Cadenhouse. " But I understand now that feeling 
 in the county is so strongly against it that, if he persists 
 or Mrs. Kingconstance persists it will lose him the 
 election. And it is believed that the lady will be the 
 lesser loss of the two. I am anxious that he should not 
 persist, because I think him the best man for political 
 purposes ; and also, now that the matter has been repre- 
 sented to me, I do see objections to the marriage." 
 
 Mr. Worringham and Squire Normanton completed 
 the party. The service of the table was done deftly by 
 strange waiters. The dinner was superb not too much 
 in quantity, consequently not too long ; and most ex- 
 cellent in quality. Under its stimulating influence, 
 even Cadenhouse's habitual haughty reserve melted 
 into something like geniality. Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 as a host was in his element. The certainty that he was 
 under observation did not embarrass him, but rather 
 gave zest to the part he was playing. His imagination 
 was Oriental, and he brought it to bear upon all his 
 guests. When in the vein, his insight was infinite. 
 Knowing, as he did, how to ingratiate himself with 
 crowds at a time, it was mere child's play to him, this 
 party, now that he had got it together. The difficulty 
 had been to get them together the much-loved vicar, 
 the proud recluse, the whiskeyfied squire, and the con- 
 ventional society man. In that he had succeeded, how- 
 ever, and now it but remained to bind them to him. 
 With these men in the hollow of his hand, he would have 
 the key to the county. 
 
 By the time the coffee came and the cigars, he was 
 pretty sure of them all sure, at least, that he had 
 pleased them as an entertainer ; but before they left the 
 table he meant to make a bid for their permanent alle- 
 giance. 
 
 " Instead of liqueurs, I propose to offer you a little 
 concoction of my own with your coffee/' he said. " It 
 
 437
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 is really rather nice. Mr. Worringham, I appeal to 
 you." 
 
 The vicar's eyes brightened. 
 
 " Are you alluding to that delicious cordial you gave 
 me once and only once ? Why, it was it was nectar !" 
 
 " So glad you liked it," said Mr. Jellybond Tinney. 
 
 On the table before him were some crystal goblets, 
 and the exquisite little decanters which had played such 
 an important part in the subjugation of Mrs. Kingcon- 
 stance. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney began to manipulate the de- 
 canters. 
 
 " I don't talk or encourage talking when I am doing 
 this," he said, " for fear of making mistakes. A drop 
 too much makes all the difference." 
 
 He talked, nevertheless, the whole time, keeping up 
 a monotonous monologue to which his guests found 
 themselves obliged to listen in silence. They sat watch- 
 ing him, with their eyes fixed upon the shining goblets ; 
 and the longer they gazed the more fascinated they be- 
 came. A gentle apathy stole over them, a sense of 
 soothing which seemed to be the effect of the monoto- 
 nous monologue. 
 
 It was a long business. Drop by drop Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney distilled the mixture, and every drop he added 
 altered the tint a trifle, so that the liquid passed by slight 
 gradations through exquisite gem-like shades of trans- 
 parent color ; but when at last he handed them their 
 glasses it looked like watered milk. 
 
 Simultaneously they raised their glasses and sipped. 
 The effect of the first sip on Jeffrey and Cadenhouse was 
 identical. They instantly raised their glasses again, 
 and tasted the draught as men do who think there is 
 something to question. They exchanged glances. Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney looked smilingly at them. He was 
 busy mixing another supply.
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Drink, gentlemen/' he said. " The effect is spoiled 
 if you sip." 
 
 All drank. Mr. Jellybond Tinney's countenance be- 
 trayed some inward satisfaction. 
 
 " Your glasses, gentlemen/' he said, after a little pause. 
 It was noticeable that the new brew had been mixed in 
 less than a third the time it had taken to concoct the 
 other. 
 
 Dreamily the gentlemen handed him their glasses. 
 Again he rilled them with the delicious mixture. It was 
 the color of a fire opal by this time. 
 
 " Now sip," he said. 
 
 When they had done so, each man sat silently look- 
 ing into his glass, with sensuous satisfaction on his face. 
 
 " I've done all this before," Cadenhouse suddenly ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " So have I," said Jeffrey " not once, but many 
 times." 
 
 " Faith, I wish I had," murmured the squire. 
 
 " My second experience," the vicar boasted. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney glanced slowly round the table, 
 and, as his eye fell upon each in turn, each found him- 
 self suffused with a singular respect for him. Caden- 
 house was the last to come under his control ; but finally 
 he too fell like the rest. 
 
 Late that night Guy Spice went out for an airing be- 
 fore he retired to rest. He was loitering along, smoking 
 his pipe and enjoying the lovely night, when all at once 
 he saw a sight which caused him to stop short and stand 
 and stare like one transfixed. 
 
 By the light of the moon, which was at the full, he 
 saw approaching down the broad high-road, arm-in- 
 arm, five gentlemen in evening dress. They were danc- 
 ing. Three steps to the right they took, then three steps 
 to the left ; three steps forward ; a momentary pause to 
 
 439
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 throw up the right leg, then off again. And all with the 
 most perfect gravity, all in the most absolute silence. 
 
 As they passed him he recognized them ; but only 
 one of them took the slightest notice of him, the tall one 
 in the middle, upon whose will the other four hung by 
 their arms, two on each side, in helpless dependence. 
 And that one joined in the shout of laughter with which 
 Guy Spice signified his appreciation of the performance. 
 
 440
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 THE day after it had been announced that Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney was to stand for the county 
 in the conservative interest, every hoarding was 
 placarded with the question : " Who's Tinney 
 Binks ?" 
 
 " Who is Tinney Binks ?" everybody asked. 
 After an interval the reply appeared everywhere, on 
 hand-bills and hoardings, gorgeously displayed. 
 
 TINNEY BINKS ! 1 1 
 
 THE MOST VERSATILE ENTERTAINER OF HIS DAY, 
 THE GREAT MESMERIST ! ILLUSIONIST 1 MIXER OF 
 
 DRINKS 1 
 
 THAT IS YOUR CONSERVATIVE CANDIDATE. VOTE 
 FOR THE RADICAL. 
 
 " It is false," cried Mrs. Kingconstance, wringing her 
 hands. " Say, oh, say that it is a slander," she implored. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney smiled enigmatically. He had 
 brought her the hand-bill himself. He was quite se- 
 rene. 
 
 * You will come, as you promised, to hear my election 
 address," he replied. " You shall be satisfied, that I 
 undertake. I will explain all all. And then I will 
 leave it to you, my dear lady, to pronounce sentence 
 upon me." 
 
 441
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 The Great Hall in the county town, seventeen miles 
 from Danehurst, had been taken on the occasion of Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney's election address to his constituents. 
 It held several thousands of people and was crammed. A 
 small gallery in a conspicuous position had been reserved 
 for the candidate's friends. The candidate's friends 
 were all ladies. Conspicuous among them, in the 
 front row, were Mrs. Kingconstance and the witch from 
 Thorne Lodge. Mrs. Kingconstance was beautifully 
 dressed, as was her wont ; and so also was the witch, but 
 not according to her wont. Ordinarily she dressed like a 
 woman of the people ; but that day her black costume 
 was of silk, satin, and lace, made in the most perfect 
 taste, and admirably suited to her slender upright figure 
 and dark handsome face. She wore it with the ease and 
 grace of one accustomed to such clothes. Her striking 
 personality immediately attracted the attention of the 
 crowd. People all over the hall were asking each other 
 who she was. There was no self-consciousness in her 
 attitude, no restlessness. She held a fan in her hand, 
 but did not use it. She looked about her with intelli- 
 gent interest, her dark eyes steady, her composure per- 
 fect ; and only two bright spots of color on either cheek 
 betrayed the emotion which was working within. Babs, 
 who had come for the pleasure of gazing at Cadenhouse, 
 recognized her at once. Mrs. Kingconstance was too 
 excited to see anybody. Her demeanor was as agitated 
 as the other woman's was composed. She could not 
 keep still a moment. She jerked disconnected remarks 
 from one acquaintance to another, but did not attend 
 to their answers. Her fan fluttered perpetually. She 
 was really in a pitiable state of nerves. 
 
 Babs and Julia sat side by side Julia radiantly self- 
 satisfied, proud, and composed ; Babs concealing the 
 great gnawing ache at her heart by a brave show of calm 
 indifference. The exquisite sweetness of her angelic 
 
 442
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 little face was heightened by its transparent pallor and 
 the bright fair hair that framed it. " Lily and Rose " 
 the people called them, and the Rose was the most ad- 
 mired of the multitude. 
 
 Miss Kingconstance was also in the front row, and she, 
 too, was radiant. As she was leaving the house, one of 
 Cadenhouse's servants had ridden up with a letter for her. 
 Mrs. Kingconstance had begged her to read it when they 
 were settled in the carriage, but she had feigned indiffer- 
 ence. For the rest of the day, however, the conscious- 
 ness of that little letter in her pocket made her glad. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! how much longer are we to be kept wait- 
 ing ?" Mrs. Kingconstance exclaimed from time to time, 
 petulantly. 
 
 " Isn't it thrilling ?" said Julia. 
 
 The audience was becoming impatient. Witticisms 
 of a broad kind were being bandied about, scraps of 
 popular songs were sung. Now and then somebody had 
 to be marched out for disorderly conduct, which created 
 a little diversion. There were thundering discharges of 
 Kentish fire, varied by frantic clapping of hands. An 
 agitated official appeared on the platform with some 
 papers which he laid on the table. He was warmly 
 greeted, and much complimented upon his pate, which 
 was remarkably bald. At last the word went about 
 " They're coming !" and a hush of expectation fell upon 
 the crowd. In the ladies' gallery hearts beat high. Miss 
 Spice jumped up in her excitement and then plumped 
 down again. Mrs. Normanton's ample person was 
 shaken with shivers of expectation. Fanny Sturdy 
 and Florence Japp held each other's hands. Lady 
 May's thin lips were tightly set, and Mrs. Japp's emo- 
 tion betrayed itself in the pressure of her hand upon 
 her heart. The witch of Thorne Lodge alone was 
 normally calm. 
 
 The chairman entered first and took his seat. He was 
 
 443
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 followed by Cadenhouse, Squire Normanton, Mr. Wor- 
 ringham, Jeffrey Wylde, Montacute, and various other 
 county magnates. 
 
 When they were all seated, Mr. Jellybond Tinney 
 entered a one. 
 
 Instantly there was a wild hubbub applause, cheers, 
 shouts, groans, hisses. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney came forward to the front of the 
 platform, bowed to the audience, bowed also to the ladies' 
 gallery, and then retired to the table, and sat down be- 
 side the chairman. 
 
 His platform manner was perfect; nobody there had 
 ever seen him to better advantage. All his movements 
 were easy, and he was exceedingly well dressed, and 
 quietly, with the exception of one eccentric touch. From 
 his watch-chain dangled a large gem, which flashed 
 forth liquid light in rainbow tints at every movement. 
 The attention of numbers of people became riveted upon 
 this shining object ; and indeed it seemed to have a 
 great attraction even for those who escaped its special 
 fascination, for their eyes sought it continually. 
 
 " He's a fine man, anyhow," was the frequently ex- 
 pressed opinion of the women in the body of the hall, 
 and the same sentiment exhaled in stifled sighs in the 
 ladies' gallery. 
 
 The chairman arose, and the preliminaries were gone 
 through. They were not tediously long ; everybody 
 was only too anxious to get to the great business of the 
 day. 
 
 Mr. Jellybond Tinney was half-way through his ad- 
 dress before Mrs. Kingconstance heard a word of it. 
 Fortunately for him even his political opponents were 
 anxious to hear what he had to say for himself. To 
 secure a hearing was all that he asked. If only they 
 would listen he felt sure of winning the day. 
 
 He began slowly, and every rounded word rolled out 
 
 444
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 clear and distinct to the farthest extremity of the crowded 
 hall. His voice was not only fine in itself and cultivated, 
 but finely managed. There was no sign of effort ; he 
 was evidently a practised speaker, and his whole address 
 was a fine oratorical success. 
 
 The moment he began Cadenhouse was reminded of 
 his dream that night up in the high tower the dream 
 which had preceded Babs's first escapade. 
 
 Jeffrey leaned over to him and whispered : " Binks, of 
 course !" 
 
 * Of course," said Cadenhouse. * Without his beard." 
 
 "And he'll carry the day," said Jeffrey, " if he can 
 make them forgive him for being Binks." 
 
 " I should say he'd make them proud of him for being 
 Binks," said Cadenhouse. 
 
 The first words Mrs. Kingconstance clearly under- 
 stood were bawled at the platform in a stentorian voice 
 by one of the audience : * Who's Tinney Binks ?" 
 
 " Who is Tinney Binks ?" Mr. Jellybond Tinney an- 
 swered, instantly. " I propose to tell you. In fact, I 
 came here on purpose to tell you (hear, hear). I assure 
 you that Tinney Binks never has had and never will 
 have any reason to be ashamed of his name." ( "Oh I 
 oh !" groans, cheers, and a question : " Why did he drop 
 it, then ?") " For his own convenience. He took an- 
 other name, as he had every right to do. It's a free 
 country (cheers). But you don't go far enough back 
 when you ask : ' Who's Tinney Binks ?' You should 
 ask first : ' Who was Tinney Binks ?' Tinney Binks 
 was my father. He was a respectable man (cheers). 
 He married a respectable woman (cheers). But his 
 name was not Tinney. Tinney was a nickname they 
 gave him because he was a tinker an itinerant tinker 
 who went about mending pots and pans all over the 
 country. I'm proud to say he was an honest man. 
 Wherever he went they were glad to see him again ; and 
 
 445
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 never a key was turned in a lock because he was about." 
 (" That's trite. I mind him, well" from an old farmer, and 
 loud cheers.) " His name was not Tinney, I repeat ; 
 but mine is. I'm his only child " (" Not a bad specimen "), 
 " and he had me christened Tinney to show that he had 
 no reason to be ashamed of the name. He started me 
 in life with that name, and this piece of advice : ' Be 
 an honest man/ he said ; ' tell the truth and shame the 
 devil ' (loud cheers). That was the fortune he left me, 
 ladies and gentlemen ; and that is the fortune which 
 has landed me here to-day with lots of tin of my own, 
 honorably earned (cheer -s); with the respect, I venture 
 to hope, of all who know me. For if I had not deserved 
 the respect of all who know me, should I have ventured 
 to come forward to-day ? Should I have been put for- 
 ward to-day as a candidate for the honor of representing 
 you in Parliament ? (cheers, hisses, and groans). I hear 
 hisses and groans. Now, I ask these gentlemen who 
 hiss and groan, if I have not proved myself a man of 
 some capacity (" You have "); and if it isn't better to 
 have a man of some capacity like me, who knows every 
 grade of society intimately, the good and the bad of 
 them, the rights and the wrongs of them I ask you 
 isn't it better to return such a man, a sound, practical 
 man, as your representative, than a man whose experi- 
 ence, whose interests, and whose sympathies do not ex- 
 tend beyond the little set in which he was born ? Search 
 into every detail of my career, and if you find me want- 
 ing, don't return me. How have I lived among you 
 here, I ask you ?" (A voice : " Ask the ladies !") " I ask 
 the ladies !" 
 
 He turned and bowed to the gallery. The ladies rose 
 in their enthusiasm with one accord, and waved their 
 handkerchiefs frantically. This display was greeted 
 with prolonged applause. 
 
 The gallant gentleman wiped his forehead. 
 
 446
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " You will observe," he proceeded, " that the flattering 
 mark of confidence with which the ladies have greeted 
 me in response to my appeal was not unanimous. One 
 lady remained neutral " he alluded to the witch. " Why 
 did she not rise ? Ladies and gentlemen, it was not 
 because she has no confidence in me, for it was her faith 
 in me, her influence, her help, her strength of character, 
 and her tenacity which made me the man I am, and final- 
 ly landed me here. Who is that lady ? That lady is 
 my mother. And I am proud of her. And I ask every 
 working-man here to-day, haven't I a right to be proud 
 of her ?" (Hundreds of voices : " You have, sir !") 
 
 " Well, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen, having made 
 my fortune, I took the name of Capell Augustus Jelly- 
 bond Tinney, as I had every right to do. I kept the 
 Tinney, you see, for my dear old dad's sake (loud cheers). 
 And I came here. Do you know why I came here ? 
 Because it was my native place, and I had made up my 
 mind that I would crown my career as I am crowning 
 it to-day. I wanted to show every working-man here 
 what a man may do for himself in a free country (loud 
 cheers). I have been received as an equal everywhere, 
 as an honest man should. I have tried to spend my 
 money like a gentleman." (A voice : " You- have I") 
 " I hope that I have won the best, the most beautiful, 
 the most distinguished lady in the county." 
 
 He bowed to the ladies' gallery. During moments like 
 these, when the multitude is moved, the humanities are 
 about, and there is great levelling of classes. To every- 
 body's astonishment, Mrs. Kingconstance rose to the oc- 
 casion in every sense of the word. She carried a great 
 bunch of roses tied with the candidate's colors, and when 
 he bowed to her, she arose, leaned over the rail, and 
 threw him the flowers. He bowed low, with evident 
 emotion. His mother got up at the same time, and the 
 two ladies shook hands in full view of the crowd amid 
 
 447
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 resounding cheers. Many people wiped their eyes, and 
 expressed their opinions that it were " better nor any 
 play they'd ever seen." 
 
 " My lords, ladies, and gentlemen," Mr. Jellybond 
 Tinney resumed, in a voice vibrating with emotion, " I 
 feel myself honored above all men. Only one thing 
 is now wanted to crown my career right royally, and that 
 I look to you to bestow. If you believe in me you will 
 make me member for this constituency ; and thereby 
 you will prove to me and to the world that you admire 
 my conduct, rejoice in my success, and approve of the 
 example I have set you." 
 
 Prolonged cheers and shouts of " For he's a jolly good 
 fellow 1" greeted the conclusion of the address. Mr. 
 Jellybond Tinney's mother was seen to wipe her eyes. 
 This was the first symptom of weakness she had be- 
 trayed. Standing beside Mrs. Kingconstance during 
 the handshaking and congratulations which followed, 
 she bore herself with simple dignity. It was only then 
 that Mrs. Kingconstance recognized her. 
 
 " Dear me 1" she exclaimed. " It really is you. Well, 
 how nice ! Oh, those dear, dear days ! And the lunch- 
 eons and the little dishes, and the coffee " her voice 
 sank to a playful whisper " the cordial and the cig- 
 arettes ! You really are a dear, and so handsome, too 1 
 And you are going to be my mother-in-law. Well, how 
 nice !" 
 
 Little Miss Spice came perking up, head bobbing, 
 curls twining and untwining, all a nutter of feeling. 
 
 " I congratulate you," she cried, clasping Mrs. King- 
 constance's hand convulsively. " And you, too, mad- 
 am his mother!" She pressed her handkerchief to 
 her eyes. " Oh, what a man 1" she added. " What a 
 noble man 1" 
 
 448
 
 CHAPTER XL VI II 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after the election, Jeffrey went to see 
 Cadenhouse, and found him in his tower. They 
 began to talk about Binks, who had been returned 
 in triumph by an overwhelming majority. 
 
 " I knew he'd succeed the moment I recognized him," 
 Jeffrey remarked. " Binks's influence on an audience 
 is magnetic. Read his speeches, and you find nothing 
 in them ; listen to them, and you are all aglow. You 
 remember that night in London when I took you to hear 
 him and drink Soul Revivers ? you remember how the 
 people gazed at him ? Once he caught their attention 
 and riveted their gaze, he could do anything he liked with 
 them." 
 
 " By the way, how did that night end ?" Cadenhouse 
 asked. 
 
 Jeffrey laughed. 
 
 " How did the other night end ?" he rejoined. 
 
 " I haven't the remotest idea," said Cadenhouse. 
 
 " Neither have I," said Jeffrey ; " neither has any- 
 body, I'll bet, but Binks himself. Yet I am morally con- 
 vinced that that cordial is an illusion at least the effect 
 of it is. If the liquor were as strong as it appears to be, 
 the reaction would be unpleasant. But there is no re- 
 action from it, no after-effect." 
 
 " So I observed. Yet I don't see how it acts." 
 
 " Plucky of the widow, wasn't it, to stand by him ?" 
 Jeff. / remarked. 
 
 2F 449
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " Er yes, I suppose so," said Cadenhouse. " But I 
 er dislike that sort of display myself." 
 
 " It's theatrical, of course. By the way " he took 
 out his note-book " I'm interested in a theatre a friend 
 of mine is running. I'll just make a note of that inci- 
 dent ; it might be useful to him." 
 
 When he had jotted down the note, he turned over the 
 leaves of the book, and showed Cadenhouse a page on 
 which were words and lines. 
 
 " Can you make that out ?" he asked. 
 
 Cadenhouse could make nothing of it. 
 
 " That is meant for Babs," Jeffrey explained, " asleep 
 under a tree you know the spot. That's meant for the 
 river. I found her there, fast asleep, and such a picture ! 
 I thought it would make a good set. By the way, you 
 are on very good terms with Babs, are you not ?" 
 
 " I have known her all her life/' Cadenhouse answered, 
 stiffly. 
 
 " She's a pickle, or I'm much mistaken." 
 
 " Babs is erratic," Cadenhouse answered " or rather 
 she used to be erratic as a child. She is older now, and 
 knows better." 
 
 "Erratic do you call it !" said Jeffrey, in a tone which 
 was indescribably offensive to Cadenhouse. 
 
 " You are not speaking slightingly of Babs, I pre- 
 sume ?" he said. 
 
 " Not if your intentions are serious," Jeffrey answered, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I do not in the least understand you/' Cadenhouse 
 rejoined. 
 
 Jeffrey laughed again. 
 
 A servant came in at the moment with a letter. Caden- 
 house took it from him, and held it in his hand unopened. 
 
 " Don't be an old humbug," Jeffrey said, when they 
 were alone again. " From something she let fall, I feel 
 sure you know Miss Babs a lot better than you pretend." 
 
 450
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " I know nothing in the least to her discredit/' said 
 Cadenhouse, much annoyed. " And, what is more, I am 
 sure she is incapable of doing anything in the least dis- 
 creditable." 
 
 As the words left his lips, the door opened, and Babs 
 the Impossible walked in. 
 
 She walked in with the easy air of one who is at home 
 in the place. 
 
 When she saw the gentlemen, she stopped short. 
 
 For a few seconds Jeffrey Wylde looked hard at Caden- 
 house, with a cynical smile on his face ; then he turned 
 on his heel and left them together, without so much as 
 another glance at Babs. 
 
 " Why is Jeffrey rude to me ?" she demanded. 
 
 " Because you are here," Cadenhouse groaned, clinch- 
 ing his nervous hand till the knuckles whitened. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for being here, Cadenhouse," 
 Babs began. " I heard you had gone away. Ally Spice 
 saw your omnibus with a lot of luggage on it pass on the 
 way to the station " 
 
 " Some guests were going," said Cadenhouse. 
 
 "And I was roaming about this afternoon without in- 
 tention, and came to the tower," she pursued ; " and the 
 door was open, and the impulse seized me on a sudden to 
 run up as you were away to run up for a last look. 
 I've been up to the top of the tower not into the second 
 stage, though the door was unlocked. You said you 
 would show me that yourself some day, and unless you 
 show me it yourself, I do not care to see it now. I've 
 been up to the top of the tower, looking down at the peace- 
 ful land, and at the sea ; all is so quiet, so infinitely 
 calm, out there such a contrast to the terrible turmoil 
 here " she clasped her hands to her heart. " Caden- 
 house, I've made a mess of my life somehow. Every- 
 thing has gone wrong with me. I don't know what I've 
 done, but all the people about avoid me. Just now, down
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 there on the road, Meg Normanton and her sister crossed 
 over, so as not to have to speak to me ; and Lady May, 
 passing in her carriage, turned her head aside ; and the 
 other day Squire Normanton met me and nodded fa- 
 miliarly, without taking his hat off. What have I done ? 
 What have I done ? I seem to have lost caste utterly. 
 Nothing has gone right with me since you deserted 
 me." 
 
 " Since I deserted you, Babs \" Cadenhouse exclaimed. 
 " You sent me away." 
 
 Babs shrugged her shoulders expressively. Caden- 
 house's countenance had contracted. He played ner- 
 vously with the letter, which he still held in his hand. 
 
 " Pray open that letter," Babs said, bitterly. " I see 
 you are more interested in it than in me." 
 
 " I must open this letter, Babs," Cadenhouse answered. 
 "But, believe me, I mean you no discourtesy and no 
 unkindness either, Heaven knows ! I had no idea you 
 you-" 
 
 He broke off, and tore the letter open. As he read, 
 his hand trembled and the color left his face. 
 
 " Bad news, I'm afraid," Babs exclaimed, with con- 
 cern in her voice. 
 
 Slowly he folded the letter, and slowly he returned it to 
 its envelope. He looked like one sore stricken. 
 
 " Babs," he said, " I think I ought to tell you at once. 
 I had no suspicion that you that I that your decision 
 was not necessarily final. And now I am bound in 
 honor to marry your aunt." 
 
 " My aunt 1" she cried, aghast. " You are going to 
 marry Aunt Lorraine !" 
 
 " I am," he said. " This letter settles it." 
 
 They gazed a moment into each other's eyes. Babs 
 made as if she would have said something, but her voice 
 failed her. Cadenhouse was just in time to save her 
 from falling. He made her sit down, he put some water 
 
 452
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 beside her ; then hurriedly, as if he could not trust him- 
 self, he did what he thought was best under the circum- 
 stances he left her alone. 
 
 It was late when Babs left the tower. A close carriage 
 was waiting for her. She understood it was for her, be- 
 cause the footman opened the door when she appeared. 
 She looked perfectly calm and collected, but she felt like 
 one in deadly peril, whose every faculty is on the alert. 
 There was something to be done ; she knew that there 
 was something to be done but what ? As she drove 
 through the country lanes her mind pursued the vague 
 idea, but could not grasp it. 
 
 Arrived at Dane Court, she was going straight up to 
 her own room, but she had to pass her aunt's room on the 
 way. The door was wide open. Babs stopped. The 
 room was brilliantly lighted, and Miss Kingconstance 
 was standing in the middle of it. She greeted Babs 
 with a radiant smile. In her costume of white brocade, 
 her pearls and her diamonds, she looked like a bride 
 elect. 
 
 " She expects him to-night," flashed into Babs's mind, 
 and sudden rage seized upon her. 
 
 She went up to her aunt, and dropped her a courtesy. 
 
 " Good-evening, Marchioness of Cadenhouse," she said. 
 " I congratulate you." 
 
 " Oh, Babs, don't," Miss Kingconstance exclaimed, 
 the light going out of her countenance " don't call me 
 that yet. Don't you know it's unlucky ? But who 
 told you ?" 
 
 The light returned to the lady's face. Babs was look- 
 ing at her curiously. For the first time she appreciated 
 her aunt's good looks, and she suffered a cruel pang. 
 
 " Who told me ?" she said. " Why, he did, of course. 
 I was there when he read your letter." 
 
 "There where?" Miss Kingconstance asked, bewil- 
 dered. 
 
 453
 
 BARS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 " In the tower." 
 
 " In the tower alone with Cadenhouse !" 
 
 Babs hastened to explain. There was nothing mean 
 in her nature ; she was all for fair fight. 
 
 " You saw him read the letter ?" Miss Kingconstance 
 said. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How did he take it ? Did he look happy ?" 
 
 "Anything but," said Babs. 
 
 " Babs ! are you telling me the truth ?" Miss King- 
 constance cried. 
 
 " I am telling you the truth/' Babs answered, pitilessly. 
 "Are you under the impression that he loves you ? I 
 tell you he does not love you. It will be a marriage of 
 intellect, a case of intellectual compatibility ugh ! 
 You may be the love of his intellect, if you like ; but I 
 I am the love of his heart. He loved me first ; he loves 
 me still. Didn't he tell you we were once engaged ? 
 He will always be a gentleman with you ; he's a man 
 with me. He'll never kiss you as he has kissed me no ! 
 no ! no ! never ! I'd kill him if he dared." 
 
 " Babs, you are killing me." 
 
 Miss Kingconstance sank into a chair, gasping, her 
 hand pressed to her heart. 
 
 " You don't love him, either, Aunt Lorraine/' Babs 
 persisted ; " you don't love him as I do." 
 
 " Babs, have pity !" Miss Kingconstance implored. 
 " You will have a hundred chances of happiness. This 
 is my only one." 
 
 The pathetic simplicity of this appeal released Babs's 
 better nature. Self was set aside. She saw the other 
 woman, down the long vista of the coming years, walk- 
 ing alone. Babs wrung her hands. 
 
 " Aunt Lorraine," she said, in a broken voice, " I don't 
 want to spoil your happiness. If I had not seen you 
 here to-night, mocking my misery with your radiant 
 
 454
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 face, I should have held my peace, you would never 
 have known. And, after all, what is there to be done 
 now ? He is in honor bound to marry you. He said 
 so himself." 
 
 " He said that, did he ?" Miss Kingconstance muttered. 
 
 Her face had grown haggard and worn and old since 
 Babs began, and the girl's own little suffering heart was 
 torn with compunction. She knelt down beside her 
 aunt and laid her head upon her lap. Miss Kingcon- 
 stance could not see her face. 
 
 " I've been talking wildly," Babs began. " Forgive 
 me and forget what I said. It's like this, Aunt Lor- 
 raine. I love Cadenhouse with all my heart, and Caden- 
 house is going to marry you ; and for a moment I was 
 mad with jealousy. Now I am myself again. As you 
 say, I shall have other chances of happiness. There is 
 Sir Owen. Don't expect me to kiss you and be glad just 
 yet. It will be a day or two before I can make merry on 
 the subject, but " 
 
 Miss Kingconstance laid her slender hand on her 
 niece's head ; tears were streaming from her eyes. 
 
 " Don't distress yourself, Babs," she said. " I under- 
 stand you. I think I have always understood you better 
 than any one else." 
 
 " You have always been good to me " 
 
 " Be good to me now, then, Babs. This all this 
 has been very bitter. It has come upon me unawares " 
 
 " But it is over," Babs put in quickly. " I shall not 
 come between you and your happiness ; give me that 
 assurance, at least, for my comfort." 
 
 She rose to her feet as she spoke. Miss Kingcon- 
 stance also rose. For a moment they held each other's 
 hands ; then Babs went quietly from the room. She 
 left her aunt sobbing hysterically. 
 
 Babs did not appear again that evening. 
 
 After dinner, Cadenhouse arrived, as in duty bound. 
 
 455
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 He thanked Miss Kingconstance for the honor she had 
 done him. He took her hand. On second thoughts he 
 kissed it. It was like being engaged to an automaton. 
 
 " Do you wish the engagement to be announced at 
 once ?" he asked. 
 
 " No, Cadenhouse," she answered, gently.
 
 CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 IT had been finally settled that Montacute was to 
 spend the last year of his minority in globe-trot- 
 ting, and Guy Spice was to accompany him. 
 They were to make their farewells and leave for 
 London next day. The day after they were to embark 
 at Southampton on a mail steamer bound for the 
 East. 
 
 Late that night Montacute was sitting in the library 
 reading, when the door opened, and Babs, still in her 
 walking dress, came in. 
 
 " Montacute," she began, breathlessly, " you go to- 
 morrow morning. Take me with you. For Heaven's 
 sake, take me !" 
 
 Montacute put a marker in his book and closed it de- 
 liberately. Then he got up. 
 
 " What's the matter, Babs ?" he asked. 
 
 " Cadenhouse is engaged to Aunt Lorraine." 
 
 Montacute looked at his sister a moment inquiringly ; 
 then he understood. 
 
 " Don't ask me questions," she pursued. " I must 
 get away I must get away. If I'm forced to stay here 
 I can't keep sane." 
 
 " I've no wish to pry," he answered ; " but could you 
 be ready you and Bertha ?" 
 
 " Cute, you're a real gentleman !" Babs exclaimed, 
 smiling a little herself at the old familiar phrase of their 
 childhood. " Yes, we can both be ready. We've been 
 packing the whole evening. I've heaps of things. You 
 
 457
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 settle it with mamma. She'll see the wisdom of any- 
 thing that leaves her alone with her love just now." 
 
 The East meant St. Lambert to Babs. She had some 
 vague notion that if only she could see him comfort 
 must come of it. But that hope was lightly bereft her 
 by Barbara Land, who was the first person she encoun- 
 tered on going on board the steamer. Something in 
 Barbara's countenance made Babs think of her Aunt 
 Lorraine, as she had seen her look for a moment in her 
 jewels and white brocade, something of the same ra- 
 diance, the same serene content. 
 
 " You look as if you were going to be married," Babs 
 said. 
 
 " My looks do not belie me," Barbara answered, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " Who is the happy man ?" 
 
 " Can't you guess ?" 
 
 " Not Mr. Jellybond Tinney, because he is going to 
 marry mamma. No, I can't guess." 
 
 " Owen St. Lambert," Barbara said, pronouncing his 
 very name as if she loved it. 
 
 Babs knew that she would not have married him her- 
 self ; nevertheless, she felt as if she had lost a friend. 
 
 She strolled forward, found a deck-chair for herself, 
 and sat apart, her young face turned resolutely from 
 the receding shore. 
 
 The sun shone bright upon Southampton Water. 
 The gray-green waves whitened off the bows of the 
 steamer. Great gulls, with beautiful white wings ex- 
 panded, hovered in her wake. Diaphanous clouds 
 softened the radiant blue of the sky as with gossamer 
 veils ; light airs played upon the surface of the sea, and 
 fluttered the flags, and fanned the face caressingly ; 
 and in it all the freshness and the brightness and the 
 speed there was something of excitement. 
 
 458
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 A strange silence had settled upon the ship since she 
 started a silence which seemed to enwrap her, so that 
 the monotonous throb of machinery, the wash of the 
 water and whispers of the wind, sounded extraneous 
 and muffled, as though outside of the ship, above and 
 beyond her. 
 
 Babs, sitting there alone, looking forward, was like 
 one in a waking dream. By degrees a wonderful sense 
 of exhilaration seized upon her. She had expected to 
 be miserable, but instead of that, as the steamer fled on- 
 wards at full speed, and the aspect of all things altered, 
 as the shore receded, and the air came full-flavored with 
 the salt of the open sea, her heart expanded. Physical 
 energy was in abeyance, but her mind was curiously on 
 the alert ; and yet not her mind exactly, but rather that 
 further-reaching faculty which, without form, is "bodied 
 forth without going is there without hearing or see- 
 ing or feeling, knows. All kinds of queer, irrelevant 
 scraps of thought presented themselves, and, irrespec- 
 tive of her will, uninterrupted by reflection or observa- 
 tion, into her mind there flashed a measure of words, 
 and there persisted : 
 
 "Change under the change-colored arches 
 
 Of changeless morning and night ; 
 Change under the change-colored arches 
 Of changeless morning and night" 
 
 she sang softly in herself to the accompaniment of the 
 throbbing engines, the waves, and the wind ; and, as 
 she sang, it seemed to her that she was swaying with 
 the swaying of the ship, and flying with the intermit- 
 tent breeze, and floating on the buoyant sea. 
 
 A wave went by, a wave that would break at the foot 
 of the cliff, at the foot of the tower, near enough almost 
 for him to hear. She saw him sitting there alone with a 
 book on his knee, calm, cold, and determined ; a man 
 
 459
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 to do his duty without flinching, and then to die resigned. 
 He would marry her aunt if need be, and banish Babs, 
 even from his mind banish her as though he had for- 
 gotten that it was she who had made him a man. As 
 though he had forgotten ! therein was her joy, for she 
 knew that he could not forget. 
 
 "Change under the change-colored arches 
 
 Of changeless morning and night ; 
 Change under the change-colored arches 
 Of changeless morning and night." 
 
 In and out among her wandering thoughts the song 
 ran on, a meaningless measure of words to her, yet, be- 
 cause of the measure, potent to help. 
 
 She saw the tall masts mark the swaying of the ship 
 upon the sky ; she saw the swinging cordage ; she 
 heard the wild rush of the water, cloven asunder by the 
 mighty bows of the steamer ; she heeded the creak and 
 jar and rattle which betrayed the pressure and strain of 
 full speed. But to notice such things at such a time 
 seemed trivial to Babs. 
 
 " I have no soul," she sighed. Then, brightening : 
 " Have I no soul ?" she asked herself. 
 
 "Change under the change-colored arches 
 Of changeless morning and night." 
 
 " Have I, indeed, no soul ?" she exclaimed, and smiled 
 incredulously. 
 
 "Change under the change-colored arches 
 Of changeless morning and night." 
 
 Cadenhouse had told her once that the soul is of slow 
 growth, and there came to her now a quotation from an 
 Eastern book : " Follow not after vanity, nor after the 
 
 460
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 enjoyment of love and lust. He who is earnest and 
 meditative obtains ample joys." 
 
 " Does he ?" she asked of all things ; " but bliss is 
 twofold !" 
 
 She thought of Cadenhouse, there, in his tower alone, 
 looking up at the quiet stars, and it was as if some one 
 said to her : 
 
 " Enter thou reverently into the interests of his life, 
 and thou shalt obtain a glimpse of his soul, and, having 
 seen, thou shalt be no more the same forever." 
 
 But she turned from the suggestion. To be other 
 than she was no ! Change might bring peace, peace 
 without love. Babs chose deliberately love without 
 peace. 
 
 (" Change under the change-colored arches 
 Of changeless morning and night.") 
 
 Scraps of conversation she had had at odd times with 
 Cadenhouse recurred to her. 
 
 " We know everything," he had said to her one day. 
 " There is nothing beyond our ken, if only we could get 
 at the knowledge to use it." 
 
 " But can we ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " HOW r 
 
 " By leading the life. Clumsy scientific men torture 
 animals to discover the secrets of life and death, and the 
 more suffering they inflict the denser they become, the 
 further from knowledge. Knowledge comes of the 
 spirit ; it dwells not in matter." 
 
 " But 1 want love," said Babs ; " the dear human love. 
 Nothing else will content me." 
 
 " Babs, you and 1 have both made mistakes," he an- 
 swered. " It is in the nature of this ill-balanced human- 
 ity of ours to go to extremes. I have lived for the spirit, 
 suppressing the flesh altogether ; that was my mistake. 
 
 461
 
 BABS THE IMPOSSIBLE 
 
 You are living for the flesh. Will you not try and live 
 a little for the spirit ? There is no joy comparable to 
 the spiritual ecstasy. Joys of the flesh are the lowest 
 of all. Even intellect uninformed of the spirit is cold 
 comfort." 
 
 " I believe you," said Babs. " I believe you. But 
 first I must experience the dear human joys I must !" 
 
 Now to herself she repeated the words triumphantly, 
 and with a singular sense of power. It was as though 
 she were compelling circumstances to submit to her or- 
 dering : " I must I will !" 
 
 "Change under the change-colored arches 
 
 Of changeless morning and night; 
 Change under the change-colored arches 
 Of changeless morning and night." 
 
 Uninterruptedly the measure of words, meaningless 
 to her, ran on and on, until at last incessant repetition 
 wove the spell by which thought is suspended. Stum- 
 bling unawares upon the means, she had put her busy 
 brain out of action and released her spirit. In her ears 
 was a strange rushing sound for a little, and then dark- 
 ness slowly drawn like a large curtain gathered about 
 her. Passing from out of the darkness into a great light, 
 she found herself face to face with Cadenhouse. She 
 knew not what haven she had reached, upon what fur- 
 ther stone she stood ; but there they met. 
 
 Her brother's voice recalled her. 
 
 " You did well to come, Babs," he was saying. " You 
 are looking splendid already." 
 
 " She will not marry him," Babs prophesied . " I know 
 she won't." 
 
 THE END
 
 BY EGBERT W. CHAMBERS 
 
 THE CONSPIRATORS. Illustrated. Post 
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 There is an unmistakable brilliancy about " The 
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 the man who tells the story, are infectious, and his 
 ardor in love is delightfully romantic. Chicago 
 Tribune. 
 
 LORRAINE. Illustrated. Cloth, $1 25. 
 
 Of this novel The Interior says: "A more 
 absorbing story could scarcely be imagined ; there 
 is no better tale among recent publications than 
 ' Lorraine.' " 
 
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