er explained. "You were so
good----"

"I remember perfectly. And how are you getting on?"

"First class, sir. That's what I wanted to tell you. Cicely wanted it
too."

"You like your work?"

"I enjoy my work, sir. I don't have a dull moment. And--" here his
voice sank with the immensity of the tidings with which it was
charged--"you'll be very glad to hear, sir, I'm promoted."

"I am indeed glad. Doubled your pay, have they?"

Peter smiled. "It doesn't affect my pay, sir. But pay isn't everything,
I take it."

"Certainly not," the physician hastened to say. "To be chosen for an
honourable position, for instance----"

"It's like this," Peter said, anxious to proclaim the good fortune
which had befallen him. "Clomayne & Co. are starting another
branch--you may have heard--and there's heavy work entailed. Clomayne's
have had to put on several of their clerks to stop at the office
over-hours. I'm one of those selected."

"I see," the doctor said, meeting with his penetrating blue eyes the
mildly exultant gaze of the black ones.

"I've been at it now for a month," Peter went on. "Instead of getting
home at seven, I'm at the office till nine, and sometimes ten o'clock.
I enjoy it very much. The firm allows us something for our teas. My
fellow-clerks and I have a rattling good time. If it hadn't been for
your kindness, sir, I should never have got to Clomayne's; and I
thought you'd be glad to hear how splendidly I'm doing there."

"And how's the health? Extra hours spent in bending over your desk
aren't very good for you. You haven't yet lost your cough?"

Peter looked away, evidently not caring to be questioned on that theme.
"I've been very fit, thank you, sir," he said. "The mist--it's been a
bit misty in the evenings lately--has got on my chest rather. This,
being Saturday," he further explained, "is a holiday. Cicely and I
always have the Saturday afternoons."

Ah! And how did they spend them, he was asked. In the air, it was
hoped.

Not always, it seemed. For Cicely was fond of pictures, and sometimes
they went to the National Gallery. Cicely was fond of reading too; and
once or twice they had been to Westminster Abbey because she had a
fancy for Poets' Corner. But this afternoon they were going to their
home at Edmonton, and if they could get away again, and if it didn't
rain, they were going to the Chingford hills, for Cicely, of all
things, loved a glorious walk.

"Cicely's a dear kiddie. She's my