ef, the atmosphere was a little too
electrical for his liking.

When he had gone, Mr. Aston went over to his elder son and sat on the
edge of the sofa.

"What's really the matter, old chap?" he asked gently.

Aymer related the whole history of the sovereign, Christopher's
confession and the subsequent events.

"I dare say he was quite honest about his point of view," he concluded
petulantly, "but because I could not see it I lost my temper with
him."

His father sat thoughtfully considering the carpet.

"It will be a little hard on Christopher," he said at length, very
slowly and without looking up, "if every time he has the misfortune to
remind you of his father you lose your temper with him."

Aymer turned sharply.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I think," went on the elder man steadily, "I think, Aymer, it was not
only Christopher's hazy ideas of honour and honesty that angered you,
but he forced on your notice the fact that he was his father's son,
that he had in him the germs of that quality which has made his father
what he is--a successful man. Isn't it so?"

Aymer did not answer. It was true, he knew, however great his wish to
disown it. Something of the self-dissatisfaction that had numbed poor
little Christopher fell to his share. He felt his father was a little
hard on him--he could not really understand his relationship to the
boy.

"It is not quite fair on Christopher, is it?" said Mr. Aston very
gently, "at least that is how it strikes me. I do not want to
interfere between you, but I do want you to do yourself full justice
in dealing with him."

Aymer looked suddenly up at his father and laughed. "It is evidently
not only Christopher who is in disgrace to-day," he said ruefully. "I
wish I could in turn upbraid you with unfairness, but Christopher has
the pull over me there."

He held out his hand. It was a great concession in Aymer to show even
this much demonstration of feeling unasked, and it was appreciated.

"You might say good-night to Christopher when you go upstairs," Aymer
said casually a little later, and his father nodded assent, by no
means deceived by the indifferent tone. Both Aymer and Christopher
slept the better for his ministrations that night.

CHAPTER VII

At the end of February the elder Astons returned to town and Marden
Court was no longer mere vague locality to Christopher, but the "home"
of those he loved, the centre piece of their lives, and he had a shar