ng back, "and you are as
white as anything. Had you any dinner? of course not; nor any tea?
how very tiresome of you! But then you had no money, and you came up
from Brighton this morning, and had a tiresome, exciting day. Better
you went in the yacht, boy, far better and pleasanter; and your uncle
could have done very well without you;" and Mr. Murray frowned and
chuckled in the most extraordinary way as he pushed Bertie before him
into the dining-room, and rang the bell just as if the whole place
belonged to him, while Mr. Gregory immediately followed, looking very
dark and stern.

"James, get this boy a cup of hot cocoa and some cold meat directly,
and tell some one to prepare a warm bath for him; and you must give
him a holiday to-morrow, Mr. Gregory. He should stay in bed all the
day if he's to escape a violent cold. Now I must be off. Good night;
good night, boy; take great care of yourself, you are very fortunate
that you didn't have to sleep in the park all night."

And with another friendly pat on the shoulder, Mr. Murray departed,
leaving Bertie drinking his cocoa with evident enjoyment, and Mr.
Gregory frowning with annoyance.

In more ways, and more seriously than he knew, Bertie had caused his
uncle loss and disappointment that day, and Mr. Gregory was not
inclined to forgive him very easily; least of all was he disposed to
overlook the sudden interest taken in him by Mr. Murray, and the
conversation that afternoon at the office, and in the evening at Gore
House, had been chiefly about the two boys whom fortune had thrown on
the world so young, and so little able to help themselves. Mr. Murray
asked persistently if something better could not be done for them.
Mr. Gregory maintained that they were both well and generously
treated, but Bertie's white woe-begone face and evident fear of his
uncle spoke little for the happiness of his life in Gore House; and
as he walked home in the quiet, sultry August night, Mr. Murray
sketched out a plan which he thought would please the boys, and make
life more pleasant for the sons of his dead friend, but it would take
some time and trouble to mature, and then both boys would have to be
fully tried and tested before the idea was made known to them. "I
have no fear about Bertie: he's a brave, bright, truthful lad; even
the vague suspicion of being false cuts him like a knife. No man
should say he doesn't believe a boy like that without positive proof.
As for his brother