going!" cried Gracie, with keen disappointment.

"Yes, I am. I can't stop. It's later than I thought. See you to-morrow!"
said Piers.

He held Avery's hand again in his, and for one fleeting second his eyes
looked into hers. Then lightly he pressed her fingers and passed on
without further words.

On the first landing he encountered Mrs. Lorimer. She smiled upon him
kindly. "Oh, Piers, is it you?" she said. "Have you been having tea in
the schoolroom?"

He admitted that he had.

"And must you really go?" she said. "I'm sorry for that. Come again,
won't you?"

Her tone was full of gentle friendliness, and Piers was touched. "It's
awfully good of you to ask me," he said.

"I like to see you here," she answered simply. "And I am so grateful to
you for your kindness to my little Jeanie."

"Oh, please don't!" said Piers. "I assure you it's quite the other way
round. I shall certainly come again since you are good enough to ask me."

He smiled with boyish gallantry into the wistful, faded face, carried her
fingers lightly to his lips, and passed on.

"Such a nice boy!" Mrs. Lorimer murmured to herself as she went up to
the nursery.

"Poor little soul!" was Piers' inward comment as he ran down to the hall.

Here he paused, finding himself face to face with Lennox Tudor who was
taking off his coat preparatory to ascending.

The doctor nodded to him without cordiality. Neither of them ever
pretended to take any pleasure in the other's society.

"Are you just going?" he asked. "Your grandfather is wanting you."

"Who says so?" said Piers aggressively.

"I say so." Curtly Tudor made answer, meeting Piers' quick frown with one
equally decided.

Piers stood still in front of him. "Have you just come from the Abbey?"
he demanded.

"I have." Tudor's tone was non-committal. He stood facing Piers,
waiting to pass.

"What are you always going there for?" burst forth Piers, with heat. "He
doesn't want you--never follows your advice, and does excellently well
without it."

"Really!" said Tudor. He uttered a short, sarcastic laugh, albeit his
thick brows met closely above his glasses. "Well, you ought to
know--being such a devoted and attentive grandson."

Piers' hands clenched at the words. He looked suddenly dangerous. "What
in thunder do you mean?" he demanded.

Tudor was nothing loth to enlighten him. He was plainly angry himself.
"I mean," he said, "if you must have it, that the time you spend
philandering