outrage was premeditated.

"I say," he began in that pleasantly unconventional vein which appeared
to afford his vigorous reflections the readiest outlet, "this must seem
a bit odd and so on, but why the deuce should we go on quarreling just
because we've once begun? We're above that, eh?"

"I have no wish--" began the artist.

"Exactly, exactly," interrupted his visitor breezily; "we both mean the
same thing, so that's all right. Perhaps we misunderstood each other on
a previous occasion. Of course perhaps we didn't--we may be a couple of
scoundrels just as we imagined, eh? Ha, ha! Still, let's assume there
was a little misunderstanding. Now what have you been painting?"

The artist's blue eyes looked at him fixedly.

"I am addressing the same Mr. Heriot Walkingshaw?" he inquired in a
voice compounded of several emotions.

"The same, my dear fellow--essentially the same. I look
better--younger--fitter, I dare say, eh?"

"Yes," said Lucas, still eyeing him curiously, "you do."

"But you see I am still Frank's father."

He laughed genially, and this argument at last seemed to convince the
young man that he was not the victim of a strange delusion.

"I am sorry for being a little hasty--" he began, with a candid smile.

"Not at all," interrupted Mr. Walkingshaw good-humoredly. "Don't mention
it. There was a lady in the case; that's excuse enough for any two men
quarreling. By the way, my daughter is not with me, but she would no
doubt wish to have her kind regards--that is to say--well, well, let me
see the pictures."

In the course of this speech the affable gentleman had been reminded by
the senior partner that one must be careful not to commit oneself
rashly. It was odd how often he required these warnings nowadays--and
how frequently they came just half a sentence too late.

"Brush been busy?" he added hastily.

Lucas pointed to a dozen or more canvases stacked against the wall.

"Fairly," he said.

"May I look at them? Oh, don't trouble to take them off the floor. I'll
just turn them over for myself, if I may."

He stooped over the stack and moved each canvas in turn till he could
catch a glimpse of its face. With this ocular demonstration that there
actually were pictures upon all of them he seemed content, for he
turned to his host with an approving smile.

"You have not been altogether idle, then?"

"Altogether idle!"

Hillary turned at the exclamation.

"Poor old Lucas is working himsel