Nor was there anything the matter with Miss Jones, free, happily, from her customary neuralgia, and delighted with the new number of the Church Times.

Nor was it the breakfast, which to-day included bacon and strawberry jam.

Nor, finally, was it Mary or Helen, who, pleased with the summer weather (and Mary additionally pleased with the virtues of Lance as minutely recorded in the second volume of "The Pillars of the House"), were both in the most amiable of tempers.

No, it must be something inside Jeremy himself.
He waited until the end of breakfast to ask his question: "Can I go and see Mother, Miss Jones ?" Mary and Helen looked across at him inquisitively.
"What do you want to see your mother for now, Jeremy?
You always see her at twelve o'clock." Miss Jones pushed her spectacles lower upon her nose and continued her reading.
"I want to." "Well, you can't now." "Why not ?" "Because I say not--that's enough." But Jeremy was gentle to-day.

He got off his chair, went round to Miss Jones's chair, and, looking up at her out of his bruised eye, said in the most touching voice: "But, please, Miss Jones, I want to.