woman for a sister-in-law.  Nevertheless, a man did not want even the most admirable of women around when he was proposing to another woman.  And Ellen was always around.  She did not insist on talking to Mr. Meredith herself all the time.  She let Rosemary have a fair share of him.  Many evenings, indeed, Ellen effaced herself almost totally, sitting back in the corner with St. George in her lap, and letting Mr. Meredith and Rosemary talk and sing and read books together.  Sometimes they quite forgot her presence.  But if their conversation or choice of duets ever betrayed the least tendency to what Ellen considered philandering, Ellen promptly nipped that tendency in the bud and blotted Rosemary out for the rest of the evening.  But not even the grimmest of amiable dragons can altogether prevent a certain subtle language of eye and smile and eloquent silence; and so the minister’s courtship progressed after a fashion.

But if it was ever to reach a climax that climax must come when Ellen was away.  And Ellen was so seldom away, especially in winter.  She found her own fireside the pleasantest place in the world, she vowed.  Gadding had no attraction for her.  She was fond of company but she wanted it at home.  Mr. Meredith had almost been driven to the conclusion that he must write to Rosemary what he wanted to say, when Ellen casually announced one evening that she was going to a silver wedding next Saturday night.  She had been bridesmaid when the principals were married.  Only old guests were invited, so Rosemary was not included.  Mr. Meredith pricked up his ears a trifle and a gleam flashed into his dreamy dark eyes.  Both Ellen and Rosemary saw it; and both Ellen and Rosemary felt, with a tingling shock, that Mr. Meredith would certainly come up the hill next Saturday night.

“Might as well have it over with, St. George,” Ellen sternly told the black cat, after Mr. Meredith had gone home and Rosemary had silently gone upstairs.  “He means to ask her, St. George—­I’m perfectly sure of that.  So he might as well have his chance to do it and find out he can’t get her, George.  She’d rather like to take him, Saint.  I know that—­but she promised, and she’s got to keep her promise.  I’m rather sorry in some ways, St. George.  I don’t know of a man I’d sooner have for a brother-in-law if a brother-in-law was convenient.  I haven’t a thing against him, Saint—­not a thing except that he won’t see and can’t be made to see that the Kaiser is a menace to the peace of Europe.  That’s his blind spot.  But he’s good company and I like him.  A woman can say anything she likes to a man with a mouth like John Meredith’s and be sure of not being misunderstood.  Such a man is more precious than rubies, Saint—­and much rarer, George.  But he can’t have Rosemary—­and I suppose when he finds out he can’t have her he’ll drop us both.  And we’ll miss him, Saint—­we’ll miss him something scandalous, George.  But she promised, and I’ll see that she keeps her promise!”