MR, SMEETH GETS HIS RISF 309

cool and collected. Actually he was being pulled two
ways. One half of him was gratified, no, more than
gratified, delighted by her pleasure and her pride in
him, and the other half was dubious and demanded to
know if he realised what he had done.

"Now look here, Dad," said Mrs. Smeeth, "we must
celebrate the great occasion somehow to-night. It's no
good luck coming to the house if we're not going to take
any notice of it. Let's go out somewhere. Let's enjoy
ourselves."

"I thought we were going to do that to-morrow/' he
told her dryly, "when Fred Mitty and company arrive/'

"But that's different. I mean, just ourselves, just
you and me. Let's go and see a good picture or down to
the second house at Finsbury Park or something like
that, and sit in the best seats, and you buy yourself a
cigar and buy me some chocolates for once, and let's do
it properly. Come on, boy. What do you say?"

The Saving Man and the Small Investor in Mr.
Smeeth went down before the affectionate husband and
the proud male. When she looked at him like that, it
would be a sin and a shame to refuse her. "All right,
Edie. You decide where you want to go, and we'll go."

"I'll just put George's dinner out and put the dirty
things under the tap/' she announced breathlessly,
flushed and bright-eyed, a girl again, "and while I'm
doing that, you look at the paper and see where you'd
like to go. Give me those two cups. No, I can manage.
You just sit there and have a quiet smoke."

He could hear her singing, in her own cheerful vague
fashion, above the faint clatter of crockery in the
kitchen, while he had his quiet smoke. He did not look
at the paper to see where he would like to go. She could