having him spoiling Lucy's first week at home; and it's also something that Mr. Beebe said, not knowing."
"Mr. Beebe?" said his mother, trying to conceal her interest. "I don't see how Mr. Beebe comes in."
"You know Mr. Beebe's funny way, when you never quite know what he means. He said: 'Mr. Vyse is an ideal bachelor.' I was very cute, I asked him what he meant. He said 'Oh, he's like me—better detached.' I couldn't make him say any more, but it set me thinking. Since Cecil has come after Lucy he hasn't been so pleasant, at least—I can't explain."
"You never can, dear. But I can. You are jealous of Cecil because he may stop Lucy knitting you silk ties."
The explanation seemed plausible, and Freddy tried to accept it. But at the back of his brain there lurked a dim mistrust. Cecil praised one too much for being athletic. Was that it? Cecil made one talk in one's own way. This tired one. Was that it? And Cecil was the kind of fellow who would never wear another fellow's cap. Unaware of his own profundity, Freddy checked himself. He must be jealous, or he would not dislike a man for such foolish reasons.
"Will this do?" called his mother. "'Dear
