bring him to his senses. If I had nipped all
this folly of doctoring in the bud, as I ought to have done, I might
have been able to live my life in peace. It's too bad; 'pon my word,
it's too bad."

The twins, sustaining their frames diligently with bacon and eggs and
mushrooms--the whiting was at a discount--waited with almost too obvious
expectation for the full disclosure of Walter's depravity. Cicely,
alarmed for the sake of Muriel, ate nothing and looked at her father
anxiously. Miss Bird was in a state of painful confusion because she had
not realised effectively that the Squire had wanted his cup of coffee
exchanged for a cup of tea, and might almost be said to have been
"spoken to" about her stupidity. Only with Mrs. Clinton did it rest to
draw the fire which, if she did it unskilfully, might very well be
turned upon herself. A direct question would certainly have so turned
it.

"I am sorry that Walter has given you any further cause of complaint,
Edward," she said.

This was not skilful enough. "Cause of complaint!" echoed the Squire
irritably. "Am I accustomed to complain about anything without good
reason? You talk as if I am the last man in the world to have the right
to expect my wishes to be consulted. Every one knows that I gave way to
Walter against my better judgment. I allowed him to take up this
doctoring because he had set his mind on it, and I have never said a
word against it since. And how now does he reward me when he has got to
the point at which he might begin to do himself and his family some
credit? Coolly writes to me for money--_to me_--_for money_--to enable
him to buy a practice at Melbury Park, if you please. Melbury _Park_!
Pah!!"

The Squire pushed his half-emptied plate away from him in uncontrollable
disgust. He was really too upset to eat his breakfast. The utterance of
the two words which summed up Walter's blind, infatuated stampede from
respectability brought back all the poignant feelings with which he had
first read his letter. For the moment he was quite beside himself with
anger and disgust, and unless relief had been brought to him he would
have left his breakfast unfinished and stalked out of the room.

Nancy brought the relief with the artless question, "Where is Melbury
Park, father?"

"Hold your tongue," said the Squire promptly, and then drew a lurid
picture of a place delivered over entirely to the hovels of nameless
people of the lower middle classes, and wors