as an awkward silence; Mrs. Gregory looked red and
confused, her two sons turned round and studied the sea, then Bertie
looked up suddenly. "Papa is not here, sir: he--he is dead," he said
steadily, but in an earnest voice. "I am in Uncle Gregory's office;
Eddie is learning to be an artist with Uncle Clair. Poor papa lost his
money, and we're going to try and get rich, to buy back Riversdale."

"Buy back Riversdale!" Mr. Murray cried. "You don't mean----" then
glancing at Mrs. Gregory's confused expression, and the sudden gravity
that had replaced the mirth in Bertie's eyes, he stopped, and puckered
up his forehead in the strangest way.

"Is this boy, Herbert Rivers, staying with you?" he asked presently,
turning to Mrs. Gregory.

"No, indeed; I did not even know he was here. I fancied he was at the
office, as usual."

"Oh! then how did you come to be here, child? Are you alone?" Mr. Murray
asked.

"I am with Uncle and Aunt Clair. Last Saturday Uncle Gregory said I
might have a week's holiday and spend it with my brother, so I just ran
straight off to Fitzroy Square, and found them all in the hall just
starting for Brighton. Oh, it has been so splendid!"

"So you must go back to town to your office next Monday?" the gentleman
said, after a moment's frowning. "Well, well, we shall see; this is
Thursday. Where does your Uncle Clair live?"

Bertie told him the address: it was within a stone's throw; and as Mr.
Murray noted down the number, and glanced at the house so as to remember
it, he saw that the balcony was strikingly decorated with some of the
children's trophies. Long trailing sprays of damp dark-brown seaweed
hung over the railings; there was quite a large heap of sea-stones, and
a few shells piled up in one corner. Bertie's schooner was firmly
anchored to a crimson bucket in another; there was a camp-stool before
an easel standing in the open window, and a low chair with cushions
outside. Altogether, the aspect of the rooms occupied by Uncle Clair
pleased Mr. Murray.

As they walked along the parade Mr. Murray was unusually silent; the
boys watched him, and saw by the expression of his face that he was
thinking deeply. But it was not till he met their father at the aquarium
that Mr. Murray said a single word about Bertie Rivers. Then both
gentlemen stood in a quiet corner, and talked so long and so earnestly
that both Mrs. Gregory and the boys became impatient, and not a little
curious. What could they