February 9.—Exactly a fortnight has passed, and I have neither seen nor heard from Gowing respecting his extraordinary conduct in asking us round to his house, and then being out.  In the evening Carrie was engaged marking a half-dozen new collars I had purchased.  I’ll back Carrie’s marking against anybody’s.  While I was drying them at the fire, and Carrie was rebuking me for scorching them, Cummings came in.

He seemed quite well again, and chaffed us about marking the collars.  I asked him if he had heard from Gowing, and he replied that he had not.  I said I should not have believed that Gowing could have acted in such an ungentlemanly manner.  Cummings said: “You are mild in your description of him; I think he has acted like a cad.”

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the door opened, and Gowing, putting in his head, said: “May I come in?”  I said: “Certainly.”  Carrie said very pointedly: “Well, you are a stranger.”  Gowing said: “Yes, I’ve been on and off to Croydon during the last fortnight.”  I could see Cummings was boiling over, and eventually he tackled Gowing very strongly respecting his conduct last Saturday week.  Gowing appeared surprised, and said: “Why, I posted a letter to you in the morning announcing that the party was ‘off, very much off.’”  I said: “I never got it.”  Gowing, turning to Carrie, said: “I suppose letters sometimes miscarry, don’t they, Mrs. Carrie?”  Cummings sharply said: “This is not a time for joking.  I had no notice of the party being put off.”  Gowing replied: “I told Pooter in my note to tell you, as I was in a hurry.  However, I’ll inquire at the post-office, and we must meet again at my place.”  I added that I hoped he would be present at the next meeting.  Carrie roared at this, and even Cummings could not help laughing.