with asperity. "I have something important to say, and I can't say it with that racket in the hall."
Mr. Meredith shut the door meekly. Then he sat down before Mrs. Davis. He was not wholly aware of her yet. His mind was still wrestling with Ewald's arguments. Mrs. Davis sensed this detachment and it annoyed her.
"I have come to tell you, Mr. Meredith," she said aggressively, "that I have decided to adopt Una."
"To—adopt—Una!" Mr. Meredith gazed at her blankly, not understanding in the least.
"Yes. I've been thinking it over for some time. I have often thought of adopting a child, since my husband's death. But it seemed so hard to get a suitable one. It is very few children I would want to take into my home. I wouldn't think of taking a home-child—some outcast of the slums in all probability. And there is hardly ever any other child to be got. One of the fishermen down at the harbour mouth died last fall and left six youngsters. They tried to get me to take one, but I soon gave them to understand I had no idea of adopting trash like that. Their grandfather stole a horse. Besides, they were all boys and I wanted a girl—a quiet, obedient girl that I could train up to be a lady. Una will suit me exactly. She would be a nice little thing if she was properly looked after—so different from Faith. I would never dream of adopting Faith. But I'll take Una and I'll give her a good home, and up-bringing, Mr. Meredith, and if she be-
