ckened in the boy's eyes, and he turned eagerly from
title-page to text. But just then there came a loud calling of his name
from the other end of the garden.

'They want you,' said Harvey. 'Off you go. You can have the book
another time.'

Hughie obeyed without hesitation, but his face had a weary look as he
walked away to join the other children.

'I must send him to the Grammar-School next year,' said Rolfe. 'It
won't do; he must be among boys, and learn to be noisy. Perhaps I have
been altogether wrong in teaching him myself. What right has a man to
teach, who can't make up his mind on any subject of thought? Of course
I don't talk to _him_ about my waverings and doubtings, but probably
they affect him.'

'Don't bother your head so much about it,' replied Morton. 'He'll be
all right as he grows stronger.'

A servant had brought out two little tables; tea was going to be served
in the garden. When it was ready, Mrs. Morton appeared; the men rose as
she came towards them, a newspaper in her hand.

'Have you noticed this?' she asked of Rolfe, with a smile, pointing out
a paragraph to him.

He read it; first to himself, then aloud.

'Yesterday, at Lady Isobel Barker's house in Pont Street, a meeting was
held of ladies interested in a project for the benefit of working-class
women in the West End. It is proposed to arrange for a series of
lectures, specially adapted to such an audience, on subjects of
literary and artistic interest. Unfortunately, Lady Isobel herself was
unable to take part in the proceedings, owing to sudden indisposition;
but her views were most suggestively set forth by Mrs. Hugh Carnaby,
who dwelt on the monotony of the lives of decent working-class women,
and showed how much they would be benefited by being brought into touch
with the intellectual movements of the day. Practical details of the
scheme will shortly be made public.'

Morton chuckled quietly.

'Splendid idea,' said Rolfe. 'Anyone who knows anything of the West End
working-class woman will be sure to give it warm support.'

The tea-bell rang; the children came running. Morton's eldest boy, who
had been busy in his workshop, exhibited a fine model schooner, just
finished. Presently, the hostess asked Rolfe whether he had heard of
late from Mr. Carnaby.

'A week ago; the first time for a year. The demand for shares in their
company was tremendous, and they are turning out the new bicycle at the
rate of hundreds a week.'