newly caged birds will flutter； had beaten her wings against those walls with blue roses on a yellow ground。 She remembered how she had lain； brooding； on that piece of red and yellow tapestry； twisting its tassels； staring through half…closed eyes at nothing。
There was something different in her look at Hilary。 It had lost some of its childish devotion； it was bolder； as if she had lived and felt； and brushed a good deal more down off her wings during those few days。
〃Mrs。 Dallison told me to come；〃 she said。 〃I thought I might。 Mr。 Creed told me about him being in prison。〃
Hilary made way for her； and； following her into Mr。 Stone's presence； shut the door。
〃The truant has returned；〃 he said。
Hearing herself called so unjustly by that name； the little model gushed deeply； and tried to speak。 She stopped at the smile on Hilary's face； and gazed from him to Mr。 Stone and back again； the victim of mingled feelings。
Mr。 Stone was seen to have risen to his feet； and to be very slowly moving towards his desk。 He leaned both arms on his papers for support； and； seeming to gather strength； began sorting out his manuscript。
Through the open window the distant music of a barrel…organ came drifting in。 Faint； and much too slow； was the sound of the waltz it played； but there was invitation； allurement； in that tune。 The little model turned towards it； and Hilary looked hard at her。 The girl and that sound together…there； quite plain； was the music he had heard for many days； like a man lying with the touch of fever on him。
〃Are you ready？〃 said Mr。 Stone。
The little model dipped her pen in ink。 Her eyes crept towards the door； where Hilary was still standing with the same expression on his face。 He avoided her eyes； and went up to Mr。 Stone。
〃Must you read to…day； sir？〃
Mr。 Stone looked at him with anger。
〃Why not？〃 he said。
〃You are hardly strong enough。〃
Mr。 Stone raised his manuscript。
〃We are three days behind；〃 and very slowly he began dictating： 〃'Bar…ba…rous ha…bits in those days； such as the custom known as War… '〃 His voice died away； it was apparent that his elbows； leaning on the desk； alone prevented his collapse。
Hilary moved the chair； and； taking him beneath the arms； lowered him gently into it。
Noticing that he was seated； Mr。 Stone raised his manuscript and read on： 〃'…were pursued regardless of fraternity。 It was as though a herd of horn…ed cattle driven through green pastures to that Gate； where they must meet with certain dissolution； had set about to prematurely gore and disembowel each other； out of a passionate devotion to those individual shapes which they were so soon to lose。 So mentribe against tribe； and country against countryglared across the valleys with their ensanguined eyes； they could not see the moonlit wings； or feel the embalming airs of brotherhood。'〃
Slower and slower came his sentences； and as the last word died away he was heard to be asleep； breathing through a tiny hole left beneath the eave of his moustache。 Hilary； who had waited for that moment； gently put the manuscript on the desk； and beckoned to the girl。 He did not ask her to his study； but spoke to her in the hall。
〃While Mr。 Stone is like this he misses you。 You will come； then； at present； please； so long as Hughs is in prison。 How do you like your room？〃
The little model answered simply： 〃Not very much。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃It's lonely there。 I shan't mind； now I'm coming here again。〃
〃Only for the present；〃 was all Hilary could find to say。
The little model's eyes were lowered。
〃Mrs。 Hughs' baby's to be buried to…morrow；〃 she said suddenly。
〃Where？〃
〃In Brompton Cemetery。 Mr。 Creed's going。〃
〃What time is the funeral？〃
The girl looked up stealthily。
〃Mr。 Creed's going to start at half…past nine。〃
〃I should like to go myself；〃 said Hilary。
A gleam of pleasure passing across her face was instantly obscured behind the cloud of her stolidity。 Then； as she saw Hilary move nearer to the door； her lip began to droop。
〃Well； good…bye；〃 he said。
The little model flushed and quivered。 'You don't even look at me；' she seemed to say； 'you haven't spoken kindly to me once。' And suddenly she said in a hard voice：
〃Now I shan't go to Mr。 Lennard's any more。〃
〃Oh； then you have been to him！〃
Triumph at attracting his attention； fear of what she had admitted； supplication； and a half…defiant shameall this was in her face。
〃Yes；〃 she said。
Hilary did not speak。
〃I didn't care any more when you told me I wasn't to come here。〃
Still Hilary did not speak。
〃I haven't done anything wrong；〃 she said； with tears in her voice。
〃No； no；〃 said Hilary； 〃of course not！〃
The little model choked。
〃It's my profession。〃
〃Yes； yes；〃 said Hilary； 〃it's all right。〃
〃I don't care what he thinks； I won't go again so long as I can come here。〃
Hilary touched her shoulder。
〃Well； well；〃 he said； and opened the front door。
The little model； tremulous； like' a flower kissed by the sun after rain； went out with a light in her eyes。
The master of the house returned to Mr。 Stone。 Long he sat looking at the old man's slumber。 〃A thinker meditating upon action！〃 So might Hilary's figure； with its thin face resting on its hand； a furrow between the brows； and that painful smile； have been entitled in any catalogue of statues。
CHAPTER XXX
FUNERAL OF A BABY
Following out the instinct planted so deeply in human nature for treating with the utmost care and at great expense when dead those； who； when alive； have been served with careless parsimony； there started from the door of No。 1 in Hound Street a funeral procession of three four…wheeled cabs。 The first bore the little coffin； on which lay a great white wreath （gift of Cecilia and Thyme）。 The second bore Mrs。 Hughs； her son Stanley； and Joshua Creed。 The third bore Martin Stone。 In the first cab Silence was presiding with the scent of lilies over him who in his short life had made so little noise； the small grey shadow which had crept so quietly into being； and； taking his chance when he was not noticed； had crept so quietly out again。 Never had he felt so restful； so much at home； as in that little common coffin； washed as he was to an unnatural whiteness； and wrapped in his mother's only spare sheet。 Away from all the strife of men he was Journeying to a greater peace。 His little aloe…plant had flowered； and； between the open windows of the only carriage he had ever been inside； the windwhich； who knows？ he had perhaps becomestirred the fronds of fern and the flowers of his funeral wreath。 Thus he was going from that world where all men were his brothers。
》From the second cab the same wind was rigidly excluded； and there was silence； broken by the aged butler's breathing。 Dressed in his Newmarket coat； he was recalling with a certain sense of luxury past； journeys in four…wheeled cabsoccasions when； seated beside a box corded and secured with sealing…wax； he had taken his master's plate for safety to the bank； occasions when； under a roof piled up with guns and boxes； he had sat holding the 〃Honorable Bateson's〃 dog； occasions when； with some young person by his side； he had driven at the tail of a baptismal； nuptial； or funeral cortege。 These memories of past grandeur came back to him with curious poignancy； and for some reason the words kept rising in his mind： 'For richer or poorer； for better or worser； in health and in sick places； till death do us part。' But in the midst of the exaltation of these recollections the old heart beneath his old red flannel chest…protectorthat companion of his exiletwittering faintly at short intervals； made him look at the woman by his side。 He longed to convey to her some little of the satisfaction he felt in the fact that this was by no means the low class of funeral it might have been。 He doubted whether； with her woman's mind； she was getting all the comfort she could out of three four…wheeled cabs and a wreath of lilies。 The seamstress's thin face； with its pinched； passive look； was indeed thinner； quieter； than ever。 What she was thinking of he could not tell。 There were so many things she might be thinking of。 She； too； no doubt； had seen her grandeur； if but in the solitary drive away from the church where； eight years ago； she and Hughs had listened to the words now haunting Creed。 Was she thinking of that； of her lost youth and comeliness； and her man's dead love； of the long descent to shadowland； of the other children she had buried； of Hughs in prison； of the girl that had 〃put a spell on him〃； or only of the last precious tugs the tiny lips at rest in the first four…wheeled cab had given at her breast？ Or was she； with a nicer feeling for proportion； reflecting that； had not people been so kind； she might have had to walk behind a funeral provided by the parish？
The old butler could not tell； but hewhose one desire now； coupled with the wish to die outside a workhouse； was to save enough to bury his own body without the interference of other peoplewas inclined to think she must be dwelling on the brighter side of things； and； designing to encourage her； he said： 〃Wonderful improvement in these 'ere four…wheel cabs！ Oh dear； yes！ I remember of them when they were the shadders of what they are at the present time of speakin'。〃
The seamstress answered in her quiet voice： 〃Very comfortable this is。 Sit still； Stanley！〃 Her little son； whose feet did not reach the floor； was drumming his heels against the seat。 He stopped and looked at her； and the old butler addressed him。
〃You'll a…remember of this occasion；〃 he said； 〃when you gets older。〃
The little boy turned his black eyes from his mother to him who had spoken last。
〃It's a beautiful wreath；〃 continued Creed。 〃I could smell of it all the way up the stairs。 There's been no expense spared； there's white laylock in itthat's a class of flower that's very extravagant。〃
A train of thought having been roused too strong for his discretion； he added： 〃I saw that young girl yesterday。 She came interrogatin' of me in the street。〃
On Mrs。 Hughs' face； where till now expression had been buried； came such a look as one may se