you would think him a jolly, bluff fellow, and at the next you would be disconcerted by a note of cunning or of harshness.  Mrs Councillor Cotterill was one of these women who fail to live up to the ever-increasing height of their husbands.  Afflicted with an eternal stage-fright, she never opened her close-pressed lips in society, though a few people knew that she could talk as fast and as effectively as any one.  Difficult to set in motion, her vocal machinery was equally difficult to stop.  She generally wore a low bonnet and a mantle.  The Cotterills had been spending a fortnight in the Isle of Man, and they had come direct from Douglas to Llandudno by steamer, where they meant to pass two or three days.  They were staying at Craig-y-don, at the eastern end of the Parade.

“Well, young man!” said Councillor Cotterill.

And he kept on young-manning Denry with an easy patronage which Denry could scarcely approve of.  “I bet I’ve made more money this summer than you have with all your jerrying!” said Denry silently to the Councillor’s back while the Cotterill family were inspecting the historic lifeboat on the beach.  Councillor Cotterill said frankly that one reason for their calling at Llandudno was his desire to see this singular lifeboat, about which there had really been a very great deal of talk in the Five Towns.  The admission comforted Denry.  Then the Councillor recommenced his young-manning.

“Look here,” said Demo, carelessly, “you must come and dine with me one night, all of you—­will you?”

Nobody who has not passed at least twenty years in a district where people dine at one o’clock, and dining after dark is regarded as a wild idiosyncrasy of earls, can appreciate the effect of this speech.

The Councillor, when he had recovered himself, said that they would be pleased to dine with him; Mrs Cotterill’s tight lips were seen to move, but not heard; and Nellie glowed.

“Yes,” said Denry, “come and dine with me at the Majestic.”

The name of the Majestic put an end to the young-manning.  It was the new hotel by the pier, and advertised itself as the most luxurious hotel in the Principality.  Which was bold of it, having regard to the magnificence of caravanserais at Cardiff.  It had two hundred bedrooms, and waiters who talked English imperfectly; and its prices were supposed to be fantastic.

After all, the most startled and frightened person of the four was perhaps Denry.  He had never given a dinner to anybody.  He had never even dined at night.  He had never been inside the Majestic.  He had never had the courage to go inside the Majestic.  He had no notion of the mysterious preliminaries to the offering of a dinner in a public place.