bustles her, still crying, towards the door.)

MRS. WHEEDLES.

No, I won't say that.

ADAM CHERRY.

Oh, I would, Mrs. Wheedles, if I were you. Only I'd go downstairs where I could have a good cry about it all to myself, and not come up again till I felt better.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Ah, no, Mr. Cherry, crying won't mend matters. We must grin and bear things in this world. (She is still crying.) You bring down those potatoes whenever you're ready, dear. (She goes off crying.)

NELLY MORRIS.

Thank you, Mrs. Wheedles.

ADAM CHERRY.

(He closes the door and returns to Nelly.) That woman never wants to go to the seaside, you know. She has a salt-water bath every day.

NELLY MORRIS.

Poor old soul. I think she gets all her enjoyment out of being miserable.

ADAM CHERRY.

Yes, and you can't say she's selfish with it either. Oh, I just came up to bring you this (showing book in his hand)—"Gray's Anatomy." I came across it in turning over some old books of mine. It's—it's the book your brother was saying he wanted, isn't it?

NELLY MORRIS.

(Smiling as she looks at the palpably new volume.) You keep your "old books" nice and clean, Mr. Cherry.

ADAM CHERRY.

(A little confused.) Yes. I—I'm very careful of my books.

NELLY MORRIS.

(Opening and reading title-page.) Tenth edition, London, 1893. (She goes up to him, and without speakings gives him her hand very quietly. He takes it in both his and pats it gently.)

ADAM CHERRY.

How is Ted?

NELLY MORRIS.

Very overworked, Mr. Cherry.

ADAM CHERRY.

Ah, well, the examination is only six weeks off now, and then he must have a long rest.

NELLY MORRIS.

Yes, if he passes; if he doesn't, it means the old struggle all over again, only with less heart and (Aside) less bread-and-butter.

ADAM CHERRY.

Ah, now, that old woman has been doing that. You mustn't think about his not passing. He's bound to pass. I do wish she'd keep downstairs.

NELLY MORRIS.

Oh, it's better to be ready to face a thing, I suppose, than to be crushed by it when it does come. There are plenty do fail, and they are not always those that deserve to. And you see he's not strong and well just now, and it is such a hard fight. (Vehemently) Oh, if I could only do something to help him instead of being a drag upon him. It is so hard. Other girls can earn money—I haven't been brought up to do anything. There's nothing I can do—nothing, nothing.

ADAM CHERRY.

(Earnestly.) Nothing! (Nelly, startled by his earnest tone, turns and looks at him.) Suppose, my dear, there—there was something you could do—which would enable somebody else to help him—something which mightn't even be very unpleasant for you, either, and that only wanted a kind, loving, little heart. Suppose, my dear, some old fellow—not very old, you know, but just old enough to—to know your value, my dear—should say to you: I love you very, very dearly, my dear—and it would make me very, very happy to make you happy. Will you try to love me, my dear? Will you give me the right to—to take away all this trouble from you—to—to help you both. (Nelly slowly crosses to fire, and stands looking into it.) Don't you see, my dear I should be one of the family, and he couldn't mind my helping him then. You see—I—I've been working all my life, and making money, and now I've no one that I care for to spend it on. It would be so pleasant for me to—to feel that I was helping some brave, clever young fellow to get on in the world. It would make me so proud and happy to be helping those you cared for—to be taking care of you.

NELLY MORRIS.

(She still looks into fire and Cherry stands waiting At length she turns with a calm face and firm, closed lips.) Yes, I will be your wife, Mr. Cherry—if you will be content with me as I am.

ADAM CHERRY.

My dear——

NELLY MORRIS.

You don't misunderstand me, do you Mr. Cherry? You have been the only friend that we have had, and I like you and respect you very, very much, but I do not——

ADAM CHERRY.

(Checking her.) Never mind that, my dear. I know what you are going to say. But don't say it. That will come all right. Why, you've only known me six months, and half that time as only as Mrs. Wheedles' first floor lodger. I must win that, my dear. Oh, I'm going to begin to make love now; I'm not so very old, you know. Why, bless you, I feel as if I were just beginning life. We shall be as happy as can be, my dear. You'll just try to love me a little, dear, that's all.

NELLY MORRIS.

I'll try to make you a good wife, Mr. Cherry.

ADAM CHERRY.

I know you will, my dear. I know you will. Won't you call me Adam, dear? (Seeing her trouble over this.) Ah, not just yet—never mind. It will come in time, dear. And I may begin to make things a little smoother for you—and—and for Ted at once, mayn't I?

NELLY MORRIS.

(A little wearily.) Yes, Mr. Cherry, thank you. You are very kind and good.

ADAM CHERRY.

Tut, tut, my dear. I'm pleasing myself, that's all. And now you'd like me to run away, I know, so that you can think it all over by yourself. I can't tell you, my dear, how very happy you've made me. I—I never felt like this before, and I don't know what to say. I can feel it, but I can't tell it to you. May I——? (She involuntarily shrinks away.) Ah, not yet, dear—not till you've learnt to love me a little more, eh? (Kisses her hand.) Good-bye for a little while, my dear. (He goes out.)

NELLY MORRIS.

(Left alone, she stands for awhile where he has left her, then, slouly crossing to fire, she takes from round her neck a locket, and, opening it, takes out a small picture and looks at it.) Poor Jack! Poor me!

(She tears the miniature in two and lets the pieces fall into the fire. Ted's voice is faintly heard, and Jack's in answer to it. Nelly goes out L., closing door behind her and taking her work-box off table with her. There is a moment's pause, and then door at back opens and Ted enters, followed by Jack. They are both young fellows of three or four and twenty. Both are poorly dressed, Ted is ill and worn looking, but gay and boyish in his manner; Jack is an older and graver man. Both men are smoking pipes.)

TED MORRIS.

Come in, old man. (Calling.) Are you in, Nelly?

NELLY MORRIS.

(Calling from the inner room.) Yes, I'll be out in a minute, dear.

TED MORRIS.

Take your coat off, old man. You'll stop and have a bit of lunch?

JACK MEDBURY.

No, I won't, Ted, thanks—can't stop. Oughtn't to have come out at all—clear morning like this.

TED MORRIS.

(At cupboard.) Oh you can't be always at work. Have some whiskey?

JACK MEDBURY.

Well, just a——(Sees that bottle in Ted's hand is empty.) No—no I won't. Can't stand it in the morning.

TED MORRIS.

(Much relieved, puts bottle away.) Perhaps you're right. Bad habit to get into. How's the picture getting on?

JACK MEDBURY.

Which one? That churchyard thing?

TED MORRIS.

No, no,—the big one—the Enid and Geraint. Ought to make a very pretty picture that, Jack.

JACK MEDBURY.

Yes—yes. I should like to be getting on with that. I want a face for the Enid, you know.

TED MORRIS.

Yes, I should say she'd look all the better for one.

JACK MEDBURY.

I was wondering if Nelly would mind sitting for it.

TED MORRIS.

Nelly! But you want someone very beautiful for that, don't you?

JACK MEDBURY.

Well, and don't you call—— No, you wouldn't, of course. I expect Helen of Troy's brothers never could