April 13.—­An extraordinary coincidence:  Carrie had called in a woman to make some chintz covers for our drawing-room chairs and sofa to prevent the sun fading the green rep of the furniture.  I saw the woman, and recognised her as a woman who used to work years ago for my old aunt at Clapham.  It only shows how small the world is.

April 14.—­Spent the whole of the afternoon in the garden, having this morning picked up at a bookstall for fivepence a capital little book, in good condition, on gardening.  I procured and sowed some half-hardy annuals in what I fancy will be a warm, sunny border.  I thought of a joke, and called out Carrie.  Carrie came out rather testy, I thought.  I said:  “I have just discovered we have got a lodging-house.”  She replied:  “How do you mean?” I said:  “Look at the boarders.”  Carrie said:  “Is that all you wanted me for?” I said:  “Any other time you would have laughed at my little pleasantry.”  Carrie said:  “Certainly—­at any other time, but not when I am busy in the house.”  The stairs looked very nice.  Gowing called, and said the stairs looked all right, but it made the banisters look all wrong, and suggested a coat of paint on them also, which Carrie quite agreed with.  I walked round to Putley, and fortunately he was out, so I had a good excuse to let the banisters slide.  By-the-by, that is rather funny.

April 15, Sunday.—­At three o’clock Cummings and Gowing called for a good long walk over Hampstead and Finchley, and brought with them a friend named Stillbrook.  We walked and chatted together, except Stillbrook, who was always a few yards behind us staring at the ground and cutting at the grass with his stick.

As it was getting on for five, we four held a consultation, and Gowing suggested that we should make for “The Cow and Hedge” and get some tea.  Stillbrook said:  “A brandy-and-soda was good enough for him.”  I reminded them that all public-houses were closed till six o’clock.  Stillbrook said, “That’s all right—­bona-fide travellers.”

We arrived; and as I was trying to pass, the man in charge of the gate said:  “Where from?” I replied:  “Holloway.”  He immediately put up his arm, and declined to let me pass.  I turned back for a moment, when I saw Stillbrook, closely followed by Cummings and Gowing, make for the entrance.  I watched them, and thought I would have a good laugh at their expense, I heard the porter say:  “Where from?” When, to my surprise, in fact disgust, Stillbrook replied:  “Blackheath,” and the three were immediately admitted.

Gowing called to me across the gate, and said:  “We shan’t be a minute.”  I waited for them the best part of an hour.  When they appeared they were all in most excellent spirits, and the only one who made an effort to apologise was Mr. Stillbrook, who said to me:  “It was very rough on you to be kept waiting, but we had another spin for S. and B.’s.”  I walked home in silence; I couldn’t speak to them.  I felt very dull all the evening, but deemed it advisable not to say anything to Carrie about the matter.