er. No doubt our nascent cordiality would have sprung to
fuller life--but it suffered a sudden check.

"Well, how have you all got on without me?" said a voice behind my
chair.

I turned round with a start. The man himself stood there, his great
height and breadth overshadowing me. His face was bronzed under his
thick black hair; his mouth wore a wicked smile as his keen eyes ranged
round the embarrassed table. He had heard the last part of Lacey's
joking challenge to Aspenick.

"What's Sir John Aspenick got to take on? What's the event?"

The general embarrassment grew no less--but then it had never existed in
young Lacey. He raised his fearless fresh blue eyes to the big man.

"To give you a thrashing," he said.

"Ah," said Octon, "I'm too old. I'm not like you." Lacey flushed
suddenly. "And perhaps I'm a bit too big--and you're hardly that yet,
are you?"

Perhaps he was too big! I noticed again his wonderful hands. They were
large beyond reasonable limits of size, but full of muscle--no fat. They
were restless too--always moving as if they wanted to be at work; if the
work were to strangle a bull, I could imagine their being well pleased.
He might need a thrashing--but, sturdy as the sons of Catsford were,
there was none in the park that day who could have given him one.

Young Lacey was very red. I was a little uneasy as to what he would say
or do; Fillingford saved the situation. He stood up and offered his hand
to Octon, saying, "We're always glad to welcome a neighbor safely back.
I hope your trip was prosperous?"

It was the right thing wrongly said--at least, inadequately said. It was
civil, not cordial. They made a contrast, these men. Fillingford was too
negative, Octon too positive. One defended where none attacked, the
other attacked where no offense had been given. Unnecessary reserve
against uncalled-for aggression! Fillingford was not popular--Octon was
hated. Octon did not mind the hatred--did Fillingford feel the lack of
liking? His reserve baffled me: I could not tell. With all Octon's
faults, friendship with him seemed easier--and more attractive. The path
might be rough--but the gate was not locked.

"Sure, Mr. Austin, it's time for the prizes?" said Lady Sarah.

It was not time, but I hastily said that it was, and with some relief
escorted her to the platform. The rest followed, after, I suppose, a
formal greeting to the unwelcome Prodigal; he himself did not come with
us.

When Lady