he had
tried! He had thought that, perhaps, the boy hated sentiment and he
had held himself back, watching eagerly for any sign of affection,
ready humbly to take part in anything, to help in any difficulty, to
laugh, to sympathise, to take his place as he had been waiting to do
for so many years.

But Robin had made no advances, showed no sign. He had almost repulsed
him--had at least been absolutely indifferent. They had had a walk
together, and Harry had tried his best--but the attempt had been
obvious, and at last there had come a terrible silence; they had walked
back through the streets of Pendragon without a word.

Everything that Harry had said had been unfortunate. He had praised
the Cove enthusiastically, and Robin had been contemptuous. He had
never heard of Pater and had confounded Ibsen with Jerome K. Jerome.
He had praised cricket and met with no reply. Twice he had seen
Robin's mouth curl contemptuously, and it had cut him to the heart.

Poor Harry! he was very lonely. During the last two days he had been
down in the Cove; he had found his way into the little inn and got in
touch with some of the fishermen. But they scarcely solaced his
loneliness. He had met Mary Bethel on the downs, and for a moment they
had talked. There was no stiffness there; she had looked at him simply
as a friend, with no hostility, and he had been grateful.

At last he had begun to look forward to the coming of Robin's friend,
Randal. He was, evidently, a person to whom Robin looked up with great
admiration. Perhaps he would form in some way a link, would understand
the difficulties of both, and would help them. Harry waited, eagerly,
and formed a picture of Randal in his mind that gave him much
encouragement.

He was in his room now; it was half-past four, and the carriage had
just passed up the drive. He looked anxiously at his ties and
hesitated between light green, brown, and black. He had learnt the
importance of these things in his son's eyes. He was going next week
to London to buy clothes; meanwhile he must not offend their sense of
decency, and he hesitated in front of his tie-box like a girl before
her first dance. The green was terribly light. It was a good tie, but
perhaps not quite the thing. Nothing seemed to go properly with his
blue suit--the brown was dull and uninteresting--it lacked character;
any one might have worn it, and he flung it back almost scornfully into
the box. The black w