factory guarantee that my confidence in putting my work in your hands will not be misplaced and that your execution is of the necessary high quality."
"Oh!" said Lewisham; "that's a bother."
"Accordingly I must ask you for references."
"That's a downright nuisance," said Lewisham. "I suppose that ass, Lagune . . . But what's this? 'Or, failing references, for a deposit . . .' That's reasonable, I suppose."
It was such a moderate deposit too—merely a guinea. Even had the doubt been stronger, the aspect of helpful hopeful little Ethel eager for work might well have thrust it aside. "Sending him a cheque will show him we have a banking account behind us," said Lewisham,—his banking was still sufficiently recent for pride. "We will send him a cheque. That'll settle him all right."
That evening after the guinea cheque had been despatched, things were further brightened by the arrival of a letter of atrociously jellygraphed advices from Messrs. Danks & Wimborne. They all referred to resident vacancies for which Lewisham was manifestly unsuitable, nevertheless their arrival brought an encouraging assurance of things going on, of shifting and unstable places in the defences of the beleaguered world. Afterwards, with occasional endearments for Ethel, he set himself to a revision of his last year's note-books, for now the
