MR. SMEETH GETS HIS RISE

going to have something to say. But he doesn't see me
again for a long time, I can tell you that."

"The way you talk!" said Mrs. Smeeth on her way
to the door. "But I'm not going to argue with you
to-night. I'm tired myself and I'm sure you're so tired
you don't know what you are saying. I'll leave you to
lock up, Dad."

No doubt he was tired. He was still trembling a little
as he went round, turning off the lights and seeing that
both outside doors were locked and bolted; but his mind
was made up on the Mitty question. There is a certain
pleasure in making up your mind, putting your foot
down, taking a firm stand, especially if, like Mr. Smeeth,
you do it very rarely, not being a wilful or autocratic
man; and as he walked along the dark little hall and
climbed the stairs, Mr. Smeeth experienced that
pleasure, and the hand that he placed on the banisters
was that of a strong determined man, the natural head
of a house. Yet even before he had reached the bed-
room door, there was mixed with that pleasure, absorb-
ing it gradually, an uneasiness, a faint foreboding, a
sense of worse things to come.