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Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

1216484 2015/09/14 110.52.100.135

Understanding
FINANCIAL
ACCOUNTING CANADIAN EDITION
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Understanding
FINANCIAL
ACCOUNTING CANADIAN EDITION

Christopher D. Burnley
Vancouver Island University

With contributions by
Julia A. Scott
McGill University

Peggy Wallace
Trent University

Based on Rnancial Accounting: A User Perspective,

Sixth Csnadian Edition
Robert E. Hoskin
University of Connecticut

Maureen R. Fizzell
Simon Fraser Unwersity

Donald C. Cherry
Dalhousie University (Retired)

WILEY
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

1216484 2015/09/14 110.52.100.135

Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Christopher Burnley, CPA/CA, is a professor in the Accounting

Department at Vancouver Island University's Faculty of Management.
Prior to his full-time academic career, Chris worked for 12 years in
public practice and also audited federal government departments
and United Nations agencies with the Office of the Auditor General of
Canada. Chis also teaches in the CPA Professional Education Program
for the CA School of Business.

At Vancouver Island University (VIU), Chris has developed a number

of new courses, has served as departmental chair, and is in his
second three-year term as an elected faculty representative on the
university's board of governors. He is active internationally, teaching
and delivering guest lectures at VIU's partner institutions in Europe,
Asia, and the South Pacific. He has been awarded numerous internal and external grants in
support of his academic work and has presented at national conferences.

Chris has 19Ceived a number of awards from the Canadian Academic Aooounting Association as a
result of his academic work, including awards for case authoring and developing innovative ideas in
accounting education.

Chris is active in the accounting profession, and chairs the board of the Chartel9d Aooountants of
British Columbia's Education Foundation. In 2007, Chris was awarded the Ritchie W. McCloy Award
for CA Volunteerism.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

1216484 2015/09/14 110.52.100.135

Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Understanding
FINANCIAL
ACCOUNTING
--

1216484 2015/09/14 110.52.100.135

Each chapter is based upon a series of CORE QUESTIONS, which, in turn, are linked to
WRNING OBJECTIVES. A variety of TOOLS are available to help your students master
the content addressed by each CORE QUESTION. Using extracts from Chapter 8, Long-
Tenn Assets, let's look at one of the core questions and see how the various pieces fit
together •..

STEP l
Review the CORE QUESTIONS
accompanying each lemning objective.
Faculty could assign any number of core questions to students. The core questions break the chapter
into manageable chunks of reading for students, enabling them to clearly link the material they are
reading with the core question they are trying to address. Let's assume that you assign one core
question as pre-reading for a class or seminar ...

CORE QUESTIONS LEARNING OBJECTIVES

If you are able to an&w8I' 1118 fOIIDwirlfl (JHIStiona, than you have Mtar lludJing thil chaptar, you ahauld be llbl8 to:
achilMICI tha l'llllllld lalmi1g objactive8.
• • VALUA:rlON OF PAOPERTI', Pl.ANT,
AND EQ1JIPMENT
• k. l'ltlat amwnt are property, plant, arll equl1111errt rvllecl8d on tM Deec~be the Wluatlon ITl91hods for in,perty,plant, and
Sllllement of ftnarclal pDSltlon?
• 'Mlat I& Included n"oost'?
O equipment,
capllallzed.
including identifying costs that ara usually

Whal heppens 'l'ltllll1 arom~ l)Jrchases ll'IJ~le 8S98ls for a~ proa?

• 1-'DW mi we acccunt tor costs subsl!qll!llt to purchase?
Visit https://testbankfan.com
now to explore a rich
collection of testbank or
solution manual and enjoy
exciting offers!
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

STEP2
READ the relevant text and WATCH
the related TAKES videos that explain the concept.
Students would READ the material in the text . ..

What happens when a company purchases multiple assets

for a single price?
AB you shop at the grocery atore, you fill your cart or baaket with a number of itema. When you are
finished shopping, you take it to the cash register where you pay a single price for all the goods in
the basket. Thia same thing can occur when companies purchase PP&R. These .kinda of purchases are
called a bask.et purcha1e (or lump-.um. purcha.ee). The most common example is when a company
purchases a warehouae or office building. At the same time. it would normally alao acquire the land
on which the building ls situated. Just llke at the BJOCery store, the warehouse purchase is completed
for a single purchase price. It ia important for the purchaser to be able to allocate this single purchase
price between the building and the land because the building will need to be depreciated, while the
land will not be.
The purchase prlce ls allocated using the asset's relative fair value at the time of purchase, which
can be determined in a number of way,. The most 4l0mmon way would be to have an appraisal. complet·
eel that will provide the relative fair values of each uaet. It is very common for the total purchase price
and the total appraised value to differ. The pun:haser may have received a good deal from a motivated
seller or it may have paid a premium due to a number of factors such as superior location or the
ability to complete the deal in a timely manner. It is important to remember that the company must
record the purchase for what it paid, not what the appraised values are. Let's look at a simple example
in Exln'bit 8-3.

bblbll 8-3 Example of Purchase Price Alloca11on

Assume that a company purchased a new warehouse for $2.4 mlllon. As part of the purchase, It acquired the
land that the watahouse was situated on, the W8111house buildirg, 90ffl& fenci'lg around the proparty. and some
storage racks. The company had en appraisal completed at Iha tme of purchase that vakled all components of
the wan!house at $2.6 milicn. The b~ was able to negotiate a lower purchase price because the seller was in
financial distrass and was wry motivated to 9811. lhe appraisal pn:>vided the fcllowirg values:

Fair value Pelwntaa• Pun=hue plloe Alloaad C09t

Land $1,300,000 50% $2,400,000 $1,200,000
Buld~g 910,000 85% $2,400,000 840,000
Storage 111eks 2eo.ooo 10% $2,400,000 240,000

Basket purchase scenario& can occur in other ai.tuations, including the pw:clwe of an airplane or
cargo vessel. In both these aituationa, IFRS requires companies to determine if there are separate depre-
ciable components within the asset. For an airplane, it may be neceseary to depreciate the fuselage (or
body of the pl.me) on a different basis than the engines. ft>r a cargo ship, the company may depreciate
the hull difienmdy from the propulsion system.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

WATCH THE TAKES VIDEOS

Each chapter includes a number of white-
board screen capture videos 1hat studems
can preview before coming to class or use for
review after. lhese videos are a great tool for
instructors who like to flip 1heir classroom.

[IS
TAKE S

DISCUSS In class:
Each chapter of the text includes a number of features that can form 1he basis for classroom
discussions. These include Ethics in Accounting features, For Example features and Conceptual
Framework features •••

•
·@·Ethics in Accounting
s
If management's bias was for a higher net income, this could puiehase price allocated to land was maximized. Altema·
motivate them to alocete more of the O'l'erall cost to the land, tlvely, If management was motivated to minimize net Income
and less to the bulldlng and other depreclable assets. Why In order to minimize Income-based bonuses to employees,
is this so? then they could allocate a smaller portion of the total cost
Since land is not depreciated, the company would incur to the land and a larger portion to the building and other
lesa depreciation expense each year if the portion of the depreclable assets.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

STEP3
Check your students• understanding with a vmtety
1216484 2015/09/14 110.52.100.135

of assignment material.
Each chapter includes a variety of assignment material, enabling faculty to choose the level of breadth and
depth they want to assess the students at This includes discussion questions, application problems, user
perspective problems, reading and interpreting financial statement problems, and small cases.

t41MM~itl§hitfo•§;lt+,M
Discussion Questions
DGl-o Wiiy loi t - I l l llloc:&~ Ille COii of a buket pwclwe
u, the lndl9idtw - !nduded In Ibo ptlldw< ptir,el

Application Problems
AN-41 CAequlmltlan ca•; bMkllt plRllue)
Matchett Mad:llnerf Ltd. ac:qnln,d a new Ille for Ill mannfadu.r1ng operal!nm. '.lhe campany waa able to find the
ideal location in tl!rml of lat size and highw.,y aa:ea. Ma.tcllett paid $3.2 million ta aotm ttu, m. The bank,
which wu providing Malcl!ett with the finaoolDg for the purchase, wqulred that an appralaal be compleced of the
pmperty. '.lhe appratJial n,port cune badt wllh the fllllawlng l!ldlmated marlcl!t valua: land $1,IIIIO,DOO, bulldlng
$1,080,000, and land impruvement& $120,000. Mlltc:hett ezplained. ta the bank', oatimction, that il paid the
$200.000 premium because of the sa9'!189 It would realize from mlDlmlzlll8 trallSpOffatlon dlswice, lli"RD the
lite', supmar blgbway acc:1!111.
Rllgld,N:
Allocate the $3.2-millloD pW'Cba8e pilce to Ille land. bu!ldlDg. awl. L1lld lmprofflDellta. Allll aplaiD why 11118 allo-
catlon proceu II neceaary.

User Perspective Problems

UP8-1 (Ellpenaing wnua amp1ta1z11111 Ille - 1 al taale)
During the c:wnmt year, a la,g,, chain of auto mechanic lhap1 adaptecl the policy al l!lqleDling IDlall taall moting
1eN dlaD SWO as •OOD u dler aw acqwred. ID previous ,em. the c:umplllf bad carried m uset account. Small
'lbau, whli:b it had depm:lated 11Ver the average ""Pl!Ctm lllElll ltvt!1 Df the loall. '!he bal.mci! In the Small 'Iball
allClClllll1 n,pre,ented about I % of the cumpany's tatal capital usets, and the depreciation l!lqlO!llN! an the taola ......
0.3 '16 r,I. "' Nie, revl'lllltt. It It eq,ected that the average annual purd,ase9 r,I. small toalJ wlll be 8Pl)l'OlfmMely

Reading and Interpreting Published Financial Statements

1118-1 (Flnmc:lml ..._IMIII ~
llldtmam (C&nada) Llmlle4 II a leadlntl C8nadlaD retailer that operates mow than 900 9IOre8 under the Reitman,,
Smart Set. RW & Co., Tbym,, Ma!l!mlty, Permlnglam, and Ad.dllian l!lle bannml. The fDllmlring lnfmmation II an
alral:I from Reitmam' annual n,port fur ill !iacal "'"' ended Febnwy 1, 2014.

Cases
C8-1 M-•I .....ll'-"-1"111 Cgm,....,
Maple Mmufac:tnring Cmnpany ll!Cl!lllly pnrcbaal!d a pmperty lilr u,e u a manufacturln& fadllty. '.lhe a,mpany
paid $8SO,OOO fur a buildiug and fuur hec:wal of land. When recanling the purchase, the cumpany's aa:uuntaat
alloutl'd $750,000 of the total .,.,m to the lndldfD3 and the remalnlnB $100.000 to the land.
After """" lnVl!ldgalkm and an lndl!pendent .apprailal. JOII dl!lemllne that the hulldlni II deemed ta J,a..., a value
of anly $435,000. 1bU alaa di8cover thal the property ti located near a majar l1lgtlway proridlDg eaellent accaa fm
shlppln& and II therefotoe quite valualu. Similar pnipertles In the area have been 1elllng for $125.000 per be:tare..
Maple Mmufac:tnring ii a very tUCCl!llllful company and baa traditionally n,parll!d Yt'lY high net earning,,. lat

...,...,
yeu. !be company pald more lllan $200.000 ID illllome tue1.

L DelmDlne the appropriate alloca!lon between the bulldlDge and land aa:ot!Dl9 for thfa basket pwclwe.
(bnmlber that four bedarea af. J.md. """"purr.baaed.)
b. Why lWllld the cumpany'1 aa:uuntant have wanll!d to allocate mull of the pwd,ase c:all to the building
mdier lllan to the land1
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Username: Gary MongioviBook: Understanding Financial Accounting, 1st Canadian Edition. No part of any book may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form by any means without the publisher's prior written permission. Use (other than pursuant to the qualified fair
use privilege) in violation of the law or these Terms of Service is prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
Dolly liked him; so also did Bernard, whose affections were pure in
quality, but exclusive; and fate gave him a third admirer in the person
of Eumenes Fane, though the esteem in this case was but a bruised
reed, liable to fail in time of stress. Farquhar, who was also a
frequent visitor at Fanes, was not so popular.
On a fine morning in March, when the air felt like velvet and the
linnets were beginning to nest, Bernard drove over to Swanborough
market, as his habit was, to buy Dolly her week’s stores. On his way
home he met with an adventure. The distance from Swanborough to
Monkswell by the London road was only fourteen miles; but
Bernard’s horse was young and fresh, and he chose a longer route
through by-ways where there was less chance of meeting motors
and traction-engines, Vronsky’s special bugbears. Lonely, wild, and
hilly was the country-side; the gold sun had just sunk behind the
leafless woods, and a rosy twilight was invading the sky, when
Bernard turned into a certain steep and narrow lane between high
banks of violet-haunted grass, locally known as Hungrygut Bottom.
As they spun down the slope, from behind them sounded the nasal
Hoot! toot! which Vronsky hated. Bernard looked back over his
shoulder. A small car with a single rider had topped the crest of the
hill and was swiftly descending: too swiftly to be stopped at such
short notice. Vronsky could be brought to tolerate a motor that he
met; but to be overtaken and passed by one was more than his
nerves could bear. Good whip though Bernard was, in this narrow
lane he feared disaster. Midway down, where the banks were lower,
a gate stood open, leading into a meadow. Bernard touched up the
horse, and made for this haven as fast as he could. But, as the dog-
cart turned to enter, Vronsky caught sight of the appalling monster
behind. He kicked, he danced, he stood on his hind-legs, he backed
the dog-cart right across the road, and there he stayed, broadside on
to the advancing motor, while Bernard set his teeth and awaited the
crash. The car was almost upon them: suddenly it swerved violently
to the left and flew up the bank. Right up to the top it ran, and upset.
For a moment Bernard’s heart was in his mouth as he thought to see
it fall over sideways on the driver and burst into flames; but it rocked,
and steadied, and stood in equilibrium, while the electric batteries
came hurtling through the air into the road like so many fourteen-
pound jampots.
Vronsky turned and bolted down the hill, and was some way up
the opposite slope before Bernard could bring him to his senses. He
came back as fast as he could, and found the driver sitting up beside
his car, hatless, with a somewhat bewildered air. He had been
pitched heels over head among the brambles close to a heap of
flints, and there he had stayed.
“I say, are you hurt?” Bernard hailed him.
“I don’t think so. I believe I still possess a head.”
The voice was soft and low and lazy, with a touch of quaint humor.
He looked up at Bernard without offering to rise. In the twilight
Bernard could see only that he was tall and slight and young, and
dressed in gray.
“It was an awfully plucky thing to do. If you’d come on I must have
been killed,” said Bernard, simply.
“Well, so must I, you know.”
“No, you’d have been pitched out, and might have got off scot-
free. It was about the pluckiest thing I’ve seen.”
“The whole thing was my fault.”
“It was the horse’s fault, not yours at all.”
“It was mine,” said the stranger, with swift decision. “I was going
too fast. I should have changed the speed to come down the hill, and
I would not; I thought I should meet no one, and I chose to risk it. I
shall have to give up motoring, I suppose.”
“What on earth should you do that for?”
“Because otherwise I shall infallibly end by killing somebody.”
“You needn’t if you only take reasonable care.”
“And that is precisely what I never shall do. There’s a fascination
about it—a sense of power—it’s as fatal as gambling. Yes; I must
give it up.”
 He got on his feet with an effort and regarded himself. Disgust at
the mud on his clothes and his hands apparently preoccupied his
mind, though he had scratched his face and bumped his head and
bruised himself most thoroughly all down his side; in addition,
Bernard saw that his right hand was streaming with blood. This he
had not noticed until Bernard pointed it out.
“Oh, that was the flints,” he observed, in his former quaint and lazy
way.
“Lucky for you you didn’t fall right on them. Your wrist’s cut to the
bone.”
“So I should fancy,” said the stranger, wincing under Bernard’s
ministrations. He looked so faint with pain and loss of blood that
Bernard went down to the dog-cart and brought up the flask which
he carried in case of accidents; with Vronsky in the shafts they were
to be expected. But when he got back the stranger was at the top of
the bank examining his car, and rejected the brandy with thanks and
scorn.
“It hasn’t suffered much,” he said, with satisfaction. “There’s a
small crack in the panel, but if I can get the batteries in I believe I
shall be able to go on.”
“You can’t steer the thing with that wrist. You’d better come on with
me to Dove Green; it’s only a mile on, and you can send back for the
car.”
“One doesn’t need two hands to steer.”
“But you said you meant to give up motoring.”
“So I do; which is an additional reason why I should drive it to-
night, when I have the excuse.”
“Do you like the thing?” exclaimed Bernard.
“Don’t you like that handsome chestnut of yours?”
“Yes, but that’s different. A horse has sense; you can’t compare it
to that beastly, snorting, smelling thing.”
 “If you’d ever driven a motor, you’d be ready to declare that it had
sense, too; machinery’s almost human, sometimes.”
Bernard was wholly unconvinced, and thought the stranger a little
mad. “You’d much better come on with me,” he said.
“Thanks very much; but I have to get on to Monkswell this
evening, and then back to Swanborough. I came this cross-country
route because I thought I should have it to myself and could drive
fast.”
“Are you going to Monkswell?”
“I am; do you know it?”
“I live there.”
“Do you? Then I expect you know my friends, the Mertons, at the
Hall.”
“M’yes.”
“Ah! very likely we shall meet, then; I believe I am to stay there as
soon as I get my next leave.”
“No, I don’t suppose we shall,” Bernard answered. “We hardly
know them; only on sufferance. They’re a cut above us.”
“I see.”
The tone was neutral, it was too dark to read faces, and the
stranger said no more. In a minute he was calling upon Bernard to
help him set the motor on its wheels again, and together they
dragged it down into the road, Bernard doing most of the work, for
the stranger’s strength was frail, like his physique.
“You’re not fit to go on,” were Bernard’s last words, as the stranger
settled uneasily into his seat, with a tender consideration for all his
bruises and cuts. But he got no answer save a smile and a wave of
the hand. He waited till the car was out of sight, and then fetched
Vronsky out of the field and drove home without further incident.
He found Dolly waiting in the warm, dark parlor, reading by
firelight, her feet on the marble rim of the hearth, her face close to
the flames, which glowed and reddened the ceiling and flickered in
gold on her hair. She raised a flushed face from her book: an intent
reader was Dolly.
“Where have you been? You’re late.”
Bernard told his story in detail.
“I wonder who he can be?” Dolly said, nursing her chin in her
hand.
“He was an awfully plucky chap, whoever he was. I never saw
anything neater than the way he turned that machine up the bank; he
kept so jolly cool. And he made his head spin, too, I’d bet; he’d got a
lump on his forehead the size of a seed-potato, but he never said a
word about it. Yes, he was plucky. I like that sort.”
“Was he a gentleman?”
“Rather! A regular dude to look at; all his things were made in
town, I guess.”
“And coming to stay with the Mertons. I do wonder who he is?”
“Nobody we shall ever know, anyhow.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” said Dolly, wisely. “I shall ask Mr. de
Saumarez.”
Next morning Lucian came tapping at one of the less honourable
doors of Fanes, and was bidden enter by a preoccupied voice. He
found Dolly hard at work, with sleeves rolled to the shoulders; she
was in the second dairy, but her occupation had no fellowship with
butter, cream, or cheese. A cool, dark, and lofty chamber it was, the
walls midway to the roof being covered with white glazed tiles, the
floor with red. Waist-high stood out a broad white shelf, now piled
with square frames of unpainted deal confining square panes of
glass, upon one of which Dolly was spreading soft white pomade
with a palette-knife. A bushel-basket half filled with violets stood
beside her; the air reeked with the scent of them. Lucian’s curiosity
found vent in the natural inquiry:
“What on earth are you doing?”
 “Oh, it’s you, is it?” Dolly glanced round, straightened her
shoulders, swept her basket to the floor, and exposed a three-legged
milking-stool. “There’s a chair for you; you must not stand. I’m
making scent.”
“How enthralling! Mayn’t I help?”
“Wait till you see how I do it,” quoth prudent Dolly.
Lucian unwound a yard and a half of comforter, deposited his
mackintosh, umbrella, and goloshes, and sat down to watch, tucking
his long legs under the stool, and tossing back his shaggy brown
hair. Dolly spread the white paste thickly and evenly over the glass in
two of the frames. Next she filled her hands with violets, decapitated
the pretty blossoms, and sprinkled them broadcast on the pomade till
the frame was full to the brim; she capped that frame with the
second and pressed them close, so that they formed a box three
inches deep, enclosing the violets between two layers of pomade;
they were then ready to be put aside for the time being. She would
not trust Lucian to spread the pomade, but she allowed him to
behead the violets for her, and was grateful; for the quicker she was
the fresher were the violets, and the more valuable the pomade
made from them. Thrifty Dolly made a small income by her
perfumes.
Her dress, between lavender and blue, just matched the blue
chicory which borders August cornfields; and the cluster of violets
which she had tucked into her bosom agreed with its color. She was
bareheaded, and her hair glistened even in shadow like copper
veined with gold. She was not thinking of herself, but of her violets,
and Lucian’s eyes were fixed on her to the hindrance of his work.
“You’re leaving stalks on the flowers,” Dolly pointed out.
“I couldn’t help it. My eyes were all for you.”
“Don’t,” said Dolly, brusquely.
“It’s really the correct thing to say; besides, it’s the truth.”
“I don’t like it, from you. How is your cough?”
“Mayn’t I pay you compliments because I have a cough?”
 “You may not; they don’t sound appropriate.”
“That’s very cruel of you. I think I shall go home.”
“No; wait till you’re rested. Do you know if the Mertons have a
young man coming to stay with them soon?”
“A young man, lydy? What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. He nearly killed Bernard and Vronsky with his motor-
car, and Bernard was immensely taken with him. He is young, in the
army, stationed at Swanborough, a friend of the Mertons, and
Bernard generally calls him the dude.”
Dolly’s curiosity was not to be satisfied yet. Lucian shook his head.
“Couldn’t say, my dear girl. There are any number of young
officers at Swanborough, all as like as peas, and you can’t call it a
distinction to run down Vronsky. If he hadn’t done it, now—”
“I thought you might have known from the Mertons; you know Mrs.
Merton, don’t you?”
“I used to, before she was married; I haven’t kept up with all her
distinguished acquaintances since. Ah! There were days when she
loved me dearly. Once when I was a sandwich-man she walked up
and down Fleet Street with me for an hour. I was carrying the
advertisements of ‘Woman—the Charmer,’ and I could hear
everybody saying it was an object-lesson.”
Dolly had by this time heard a good many well-found anecdotes
from Lucian, and had learned that his personal experiences were
sometimes culled from another person’s past. “I don’t believe that,”
she said, calmly.
“Well, anyhow, she gave me a penny once when I begged of her—
fact!” said Lucian, unabashed.
“Where?”
“At a fancy ball where I went got up as a blind beggar; I was the
success of the evening. She’s a right-down good sort, is little Ella
Merton. You never told me how you got on when she called, by the
way.”
 “I think, pretty well,” said Dolly, doubtfully. “Fortunately, I saw the
carriage driving down, and I sent Maggie to open the door, instead of
going myself.” Maggie was a little black-eyed maiden of fourteen,
who helped in the housework. “I had put fresh flowers in the parlour
that very morning, and I was wearing this dress—now it is tumbled,
but it was fresh then—”
“And you didn’t change it?”
“No, I did not; should I have?”
“No, you did quite right, Sweet Lavender. Well?”
“I went in, and we talked. She stayed for an hour. Part of that time
I was out fetching tea; it seemed rude, but I explained to her that
Maggie was not strong enough to carry the silver salver. I used the
red-and-gold china that you like, and there were scones and flead-
cakes, and I put out some apricots in syrup; but very little of each,
not as Bernard likes them. I thought that must be right, because she
ate less even than you do. Was it?”
Lucian was laughing without disguise as he commended her
wisdom. “And what did you talk about?”
“I don’t quite know,” said Dolly, doubtful again. “She really does
say such strange things. Bernard will have it that she’s crazy, but I
think she’s only clever. I should imagine her conversation was all
epigrams and paradoxes.”
“And what do you know about epigrams and paradoxes, pray?”
“Sometimes in reviewing society novels the newspapers give
examples of the wit with which they literally coruscate. I can’t always
follow them,” said Dolly, who was candour itself, even to her own
hindrance, “but I suppose that is because I don’t understand the
allusions. Mrs. Merton talks like them. Why do you laugh?”
“Mrs. Merton makes a point of talking sheer nonsense,” said
Lucian, as soon as he could speak. “I sha’n’t send my novels to you
for criticism. Something lingering, with boiling oil, is your idea of a
mild review.”
 “If I thought them silly I should say so,” said Dolly, calmly; “that is,
if you wanted my opinion. But what ought I to do about Mrs. Merton’s
call? I am sure there is something, if I only knew what?”
Lucian promptly furnished her with information concerning the
social laws in good society. In all innocence, he gave her counsels
likely to raise the hair on Mrs. Merton’s head if Dolly obeyed them.
Many things Lucian could teach, but not propriety.
“But what’s the use of this? I thought you were going on the
stage,” he said, breaking away. “You haven’t forgotten about it, have
you?”
“No, I’ve not forgotten,” Dolly answered; and she put up her hand,
which had just met his among the violets, perhaps to brush her hair
back, and perhaps to conceal her face. “What do you think of Mr.
Farquhar?” she asked.
“Oho!” said Lucian, after one second’s hesitation. “Well, he’s the
best hand at a friendship I ever met. But why?”
Dolly vouchsafed no answer to this question. “I am glad you think
so; you who know him so well,” she said, scattering her violets so
carelessly that some of them fell to the floor. Lucian picked them up
and coughed in stooping. “There! I have let you work too long. Sit;
you must.”
Lucian found himself maternally condemned to the milking-stool.
His face darkened as he sat down; one might have thought him
angry, but the shadow passed over his face and was gone. “My dear
girl, why do you inquire about Farquhar?” he said, quietly persistent.
“And why do you couple his name with your future? Go on; you may
as well tell me.”
Dolly hesitated. “There’s nothing to tell,” she said.
“Exactly so,” said Lucian. “Lord! I never thought of that! I am an
owl.” And he fell into a brown-study.
Violets were clinging to Dolly’s fingers and her arms; one was
even swinging in a tendril of hair above her temple. As she went to
put the last frame in its place, she crossed the solitary sun-ray which
shot through the deep, narrow window athwart the room, and was
transfigured. Her very lashes shone like threads of gold.
“Let me do that,” said Lucian, taking the frame away. Dolly stood
watching him, as a woman will do when work is taken out of her
hands. The pile of frames was high by now, and Lucian was
careless; they tottered, and threatened to fall.
“Take care!” exclaimed Dolly; and her hand shot out beside
Lucian’s, to steady them. Round the curve of her bare arm twined a
vein as blue as lazuli, winding inwards at the elbow, where a faint
rose stained the clear milky alabaster. Lucian took it in the palm of
his brown hand. “The loveliest thing I’ve seen in my life, Dolly,” he
said, softly.
The frames might fall, now; Dolly bent up her arm so quickly that
she almost shut in Lucian’s nose. The frames did not fall, however;
for Lucian steadied them before he turned. A rose of indignation
burned in Dolly’s cheek; she was drawing down her sleeve to hide
the insulted arm from view.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Lucian.
“I don’t allow liberties of that kind,” Dolly retorted.
“Candidly, it wasn’t a liberty. An indiscretion, if you will, but I meant
what I said.”
“I think you had better go home.”
“I will, in a minute. But, look here; if you shouldn’t take Farquhar,
would there be any chance for me?”
“You!” cried Dolly, her indignation changed to wide amazement.
Lucian smiled.
“Now go and tell me that the words don’t sound appropriate from
me,” he said, sweet-temperedly. “I’ll be shot if I don’t agree with you,
too. They don’t. A poor, rickety, ill-digested ostrich like me has no
business in this galley. All the same, I don’t believe in losing anything
for want of asking. So if Farquhar by any chance doesn’t suit,
remember you’ve got another beau on your string—will you, dear?”
 But Dolly stood silent, fastening the links at her wrist and beating
the tiles with her foot. Her virginal dignity had been ruffled, but she
did not care for that now.
“I thought we were friends!” she said.
“Aren’t we?”
“Not if you are wanting this. How can we be?”
“All right, then, I don’t want it. I guess I know my answer when I’ve
got it.”
Dolly took her eyes off the ground and fixed them on his face,
using all her powers of observation and deduction. He stood
laughing, whimsical, insouciant, with his hands in his pockets, and
defied them. But Dolly remembered that he had quoted her own
words about his incapacity. “Compliments don’t sound appropriate
from you.” If they had not stung, they would have been forgotten.
Dolly understood.
“I am sorry—I am sorry!” she exclaimed.
“My dear girl, don’t distress yourself. I’ve had at least twenty affairs
before, to say nothing of being actually married.”
“Married!”
“All right, all right; I’ve no Italian wives up my sleeve. She’s been
dead these nine years past. I merely wish to point out to you that my
heartstrings take cement. Look here, I’m going to call you Dolly; do
you mind?”
“Is it the proper thing?” began Dolly, her eyes dancing.
“Yes, my dear girl; say we’re cousins—we are, through Adam.
Anyway, I’ll do the lying for you; I’m handy at it. Are you going to
have old Farquhar?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t care for him?”
Dolly shook her head.
 “That’s a pity. But he’s very keen on you?”
“How can I possibly tell? He’s not said so.”
“Don’t be coy; now don’t,” said Lucian. “I’m anxious to further your
happiness. Then, I take it, he’s desperately smitten; h’m! he’ll be
neither to hold nor to bind, I’m thinking.”
“I am sure this conversation is not at all the proper thing,” said
Dolly, demurely.
“It’s not, like the holes in my elbows; you’re right there. But look
here; what I want to say is this: There’s a heap of unregenerate
wickedness in old Farquhar, as I reckon you’ve found out, but
anybody he likes can lead him by the nose. I’ve heard him talk
surprising bosh about his career, and the aims of his life, und so
wieder; but I tell you he’d throw the whole cargo overboard to the
sharks if it got in your way. You know what his arm’s like? Well, he’s
got a mind made on the same pattern; and you, my dear, good girl,
have got Samson in chains. And mind you don’t play Delilah, or
there’ll be the etcetera to pay. That’s the truth for you.”
Dolly listened to this homily and did not commit herself. “I believe
you really want me to marry him,” was her comment.
“I’d dance at the wedding with a light heart,” Lucian averred.
“That you should not; nothing could be worse for you.”
“Look here, I’ve had one mother,” said Lucian. “Be a sister for a
change, now do.”
“I like looking after you.”
“So does Farquhar. Community of tastes—”
“Please, Mr. de Saumarez, will you go home? I’ve the dinner to
lay.”
“Lunch, we call it in society.”
“I shall give you a dose of cod-liver oil if you don’t go.”
The threat was sufficient, and Lucian fled, forgetting his comforter
and goloshes. Dolly swept the floor and washed the shelf and put all
trim again. “I wish I loved him,” once she said, and offered to her
coldness the tribute of a sigh.

The rejected suitor did not at once return to The Lilacs. He made a
détour through the church-yard, and sat down to meditate
appropriately among the tombs. Lucian could not, like his friend,
claim the consolations of religion, for he was an agnostic. That is to
say, he acknowledged that he did not know anything; he did not
boast that he knew nothing. Like poor James Thomson, he thought,
as he saw the spire ascending to the blue and open sky, that it would
be sweet to enter in, to kneel and pray; the pride of unbelief was not
his sin. It was a pity that he could not do it, because he had a natural
gift for religion; and no one pretends that agnosticism, except that
militant on a stump in Hyde Park, is a soul-satisfying creed.
 VIII

“I HAVE THEE BY THE HANDS

AND WILL NOT LET THEE GO”

That afternoon Dolly tied a handkerchief over her head and with
Maggie’s help spring-cleaned the parlour, an operation which
involved the brushing, clapping, and dusting of every separate
volume on the shelves. She moved the furniture out into the hall,
swept the floor with tea-leaves mixed with violets, and had
everything tidy in time for tea at half-past five. A capable housewife
was Dolly Fane. But after tea she left Maggie to wash up, under
orders to be careful of the Worcester china which Lucian admired,
and herself went out for a walk to rest herself.
Beyond the stream a hill rose steep and grassy, crossed by the
hedge-rows and sentinel elms of a Kentish lane, still netted in
autumn’s grey clematis, though violets blossomed thick below.
Eglantine Lane was its local name; it was a lonely place, neglected
by the parish council, and voluminously muddy. A satirical notice-
board announced that the authorities would not be responsible for
injuries sustained by persons using the unmetalled part of the road,
and another sign at the top of the hill described it truthfully as
Dangerous to Cyclists. Dolly, nevertheless, scaled it without loss of
breath; she had been on her feet since six in the morning, but she
knew no better how to feel tired than the unfortunate Hans how to
shiver and shake. Near the top was a gate and a stile, and a view of
a field which had broken out into a black small-pox of heaps that
were presently to be strewn over the soil. Fish-manure: as Dolly had
known a month ago at Fanes, any day when the wind was blowing
from the east. These are the vernal scents of happy Kent.
Dolly climbed upon the post of the stile to look at the crops and
congratulate herself that Bernard was a better farmer than his
neighbours. Bernard worked with his men, and was to be seen in
due season carting manure with the best of them; though,
afterwards, Dolly forbade him the parlour and grudged him the house
until he had bathed and changed. Example is better than precept,
and Fane’s farm flourished while others declined; and Dolly, to whom
Bernard was still the first man in the world, glowed with sympathetic
triumph in watching his fruitful acres.
She presently witnessed a touching scene. At a stone’s-throw
beyond the next bend stood a solitary cottage, and from the cottage
came wandering a stray angel aged three, with blue eyes and golden
curls and a brow of smutty pearl. The angel progressed erratically,
chanting a ditty, and smiting the ground with a stick as tall as herself.
So large a sceptre is awkward for handling, and it soon happened
that it got between the angel’s fat legs and upset her in the mire. The
ditty became an ululation. Dolly was trying to screw her recalcitrant
sympathy up to the point of sympathizing when a fresh actor
appeared. Round the corner spun a cyclist at full speed, who came
within a hair of involving the angel and himself in one red ruin. A
skilful rider, he skirted the edge of tragedy and passed safely by, but
immediately jumped off his bicycle and went back to see what was
wrong. He heard a perfectly unintelligible tale of woe, ruined his
handkerchief by using it as a towel, consoled the angel with a penny,
and sent her off with a kiss.
The last was too much for Dolly; she laughed.
“Ah! it’s you,” said Farquhar. He wheeled his bicycle to the bank
and came and leaned against the gate. Something in his tone and
his words, some threat in his manner (always the truthful index of his
mood), prompted Dolly to say, in her chilliest tones:
“Are you going to stay?”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll go.”
She put one hand on the post to vault down. Farquhar took her
wrists and forcibly stayed her. “No, you won’t; I want to talk to you.”
“Talk, then; I won’t answer you.”
 “Will you answer if I let you go?”
Dolly thought for a minute and slowly answered, “Yes.”
“That’s right,” said Farquhar, releasing her. “I’ve been wanting to
speak to you this month past. Why have you kept out of my way?”
“For the same reason that I’m speaking to you now: because I
chose to.”
“Because you chose to—Dolly, I swear I never saw a woman to
compare with you for beauty! Why don’t you ride? On horseback
you’d be a queen.”
“I used to, but my horse got staked and had to be shot.”
“Were you on him?”
“I was; afterwards he was on me.”
“My God! I’m glad I didn’t see it.”
“I was not hurt; and why should it affect you if I had been?”
“Anything affects me that has to do with you. I’m in love with you;
you know it.”
“How much?” inquired Dolly. He stood; she still sat on the gate,
one foot swinging, and his face, thrown back to look up at her,
fronted the sunset. Dolly felt like Fatima turning the little golden key,
but she was at present mistress of the situation, and her spirits rose.
“How much?” she said again.
“You want the whole fool’s catalogue? Hear, then: you’re heaven
and earth and hell, sun and darkness, flower and dove and angel,
light of my soul, fire in my veins—no! I’ll be hanged if those trashy
similes will serve! I’ll tell you what you’re like: quick-lime in the eyes,
vitriol on the naked flesh. See there!”—he pushed his sleeve up
(Dolly, though her nerves were tolerably steady, uttered an
exclamation)—“see those scars? I’ll tell you what they are—ants. I’ve
been tied up to be eaten alive by them. You put it to yourself what
that’s like. Well, I’d stand that all over again sooner than have you
refuse me.”
 That he was sincere and spoke the truth Dolly could not doubt,
and he made her sick; she turned away her face. Farquhar dropped
from passion to passionate entreaty, his voice sank to a murmur, he
captured her hand and pressed it to his cold cheek. “Dolly, Dolly, give
yourself to me, and I’ll make you love me; I swear it. You’re my only
one, my own; I’d not snap my fingers to win a queen. I’ve never so
much as kissed a woman before. You’ll never have a man say that to
you again and tell the truth. And I’ll never change; don’t you make
any error about that. What I say to-day I’ll say again in fifty years,
when you’re old and ugly. Only come to me, Dolly; do come to me.
Dolly, Dolly!” He was covering her palm with kisses; his lips were hot,
though he was shivering, or rather shuddering. “If you’ll only come,
I’ll make you love me,” he said, lifting his face; and the surprising
strength of his passion made Dolly own that the boast was likely to
prove true. She was moved. Bluebeard’s chamber was worth
exploring; but she did not want to stay there.
“Well, I don’t love you, Mr. Farquhar,” she said, calmly. “I hate the
way you talk, and I mean to be my own mistress awhile yet.”
“I’ll say no word that could hurt a child.”
“What’s the use of that? Your thoughts are all wrong.”
“I’ll keep my thoughts in as I keep my tongue.”
“No,” said Dolly, with mounting spirit.
Farquhar bent his head against her knee and breathed hard.
When he looked up he was haggard. He was suffering there before
her eyes, but hardily.
“I’ll not take that answer as final,” said he.
“It’s not meant to be. I want time to think.”
“Do you? I’ll have you yet.”
“Don’t be so sure. I’d far rather marry Mr. de Saumarez.”
“Has that miserable little etiolated pensioner of mine dared to
come after you?”
“Don’t speak of my friend so, if you please.”
 “Would you like me to go and beg his pardon? I’d do it, if you told
me.”
Only the thought of Lucian’s disgust kept Dolly back from taking
him at his word. “I like Mr. de Saumarez, and I don’t think I like you at
all. But you can give me the position I want, and he can’t. I want time
to think it over. Come to me three months hence, and I’ll tell you my
decision.”
“Do you like love at second-hand? De Saumarez has carried his
sweetheart’s letter against his heart for nine years, and she wasn’t
you.”
“I’d like his love at tenth-hand better than yours,” said Dolly, with
spirit.
Farquhar laughed grimly. “And there you’re wrong, my dear. I love
you pretty decently well, though I’ll admit there’s a bit of the devil in
me. You want me to wait three months? All right; only I warn you that
my position and, consequently, your ambition’ll suffer.”
“Why?”
“Do you expect me to reel out platitudes in Parliament while you’re
playing the deuce with me? Not much! And if I hold my tongue this
session, I may as well take the Chiltern Hundreds.”
“Nonsense,” said Dolly, a trifle cross. “You could do it if you tried.
Of course, if you lose your position you won’t be so eligible.”
“Hard lines; you put me on the rack and punish me for being
disabled. But I’ll have you yet, in spite of yourself.”
“You may,” retorted Dolly, “or, on the other hand, you mayn’t.”
“I shall.”
“Peut-être. Please to move, Mr. Farquhar, I want to get down.”
“Wait a moment. A kiss first, if you please.”
“I will not! Take your arm away.”
“No,” said Farquhar, evenly. “I’m going to have one.”
 “I’ll never give it you.”
“I’ll take it, then.”
“Do you think this is the way to make me have you?”
“I do; a woman’s never mistress of herself till she’s been mastered
by a man.”
“Don’t apply your aphorisms to me, if you please; I’m not like the
women you know.”
“Aren’t you? That’s where you make a mistake, my girl; women
never know themselves.”
“I know myself well enough to be sure I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Very possibly you aren’t; that’s not the point, though I should like
you to. I’m going to kiss you.”
“Let me go!”
“One kiss, Dolly.”
“Let me go!” Dolly repeated, struggling against him. She would
have had a chance with any other man, for she was strong and
supple and desperate; but Noel Farquhar’s arms closed round her
like a snake’s constricting folds. Though the cottage was within
earshot, Dolly would have died sooner than call for help. She went
on fighting, and when he drew her down she turned her face away.
Uselessly: Farquhar’s hand was laid against her cheek, and he bent
her face to his. They looked into each other’s eyes: Dolly’s all
rebellion, his all fire; and then he kissed her.
Once only; he had sufficient self-control to let her go when he had
kept his word. Dolly pulled out her handkerchief to brush it away. If
she had had a knife she would have used it against him; yet behind
her anger there was an unwilling respect. That immense strength
which she could not defy, the strength of will as well as the strength
of body, had left its impression. Farquhar was right in thinking that he
had stamped his claims upon her memory. It was better that she
should say, as she did, “I hate you from the bottom of my heart,” than
that she should part from him in a mood of calm and confident
triumph.
“Well, I love you,” he answered her, simply. “There; I beg your
pardon. You’ll not forgive me, of course, but—well, there are times
when I wonder if I’m mad.”
“You’ve made that excuse before; try something fresh.”
“Did I? It’s the truth. Dolly, you—” He put up his hand over his
eyes. “Sheer madness; or say I’m drunk. Dolly, what—what eyes
you’ve got!”
That was the last she heard from him that night. They parted, he
taking a footpath to The Lilacs. He forgot his bicycle, and Dolly,
seeing it, wheeled it down to Fanes to the safe custody of the tool-
shed, not without some pride in an affection which could make a
man oblivious of a very handsome, free-wheeled, Bowden-braked,
acetylene-lamped, silver-plated, thirty-guinea Singer. At that hour
Lucian’s chances were poor.
“Where have you been?” was Bernard’s greeting when she came
into the parlour. “Merton’s been here, and left a note for you.”
“Did you see him in those slippers?” exclaimed Dolly, pointing at
the purple cross-stitched pansies which spread their blossoms over
Bernard’s instep. Bernard looked at them himself.
“They’re all right; they haven’t got any holes,” he said.
“I’m sure gentlemen don’t wear such things. In the evening they
wear—they wear pumps.”
“They may wear pumps or they may wear buckets,” Bernard
responded. “I guess I don’t much care. Old Merton wears slippers,
for I’ve seen ’em on him. You open the letter and see what Mrs.
Merton says—if she writes so that you can understand her, that is.”
Dolly perused the note, written in a random, spidery fashion upon
hand-made paper. “She wants us to dine there on Thursday,” she
said, tapping her lips with the paper in a thoughtful manner.
“Thursday? I shall be at Swanborough market.”