ek made a
mockery of the praises they sang on Sundays."

He spoke in a low voice, and Bertie's playing partially covered the
conversation. "Perhaps, Mr. Clifton, if Gordon understood how much you
disapproved--" the young organist began.

"Gordon? Gordon? it isn't only Gordon who should understand. Every one
should understand my feeling on such a subject without my having to
explain it. But I won't keep you any longer now: it is getting late.
Remember, seven o'clock to-morrow evening." And with a polite remark or
two to the others Mr. Clifton bowed himself out, with Bertie in
attendance. The procession of two might have been more dignified if the
organist had not made a face at Judith and Percival as he went out at
the door, and if he had not danced a fantastic but noiseless dance on
the landing behind the incumbent of St. Sylvester's, who was feeling
feebly in the dim light for the top step of Mrs. Bryant's staircase.

"Is anything the matter with Mr. Clifton?" Judith asked when the boy
came back and executed another war-dance all round the room. "He didn't
seem pleased, I thought."

Bertie brought himself up with a grand flourish opposite the arm-chair,
and sank into it: "Bless you, no! there's nothing the matter with him.
Tumbled out of bed the wrong side this morning--that's all. He does
sometimes."

"Might have got over that by this time of night, one would think," said
Percival, looking at his watch.

"Hold hard! you aren't going yet?" exclaimed Bertie, bounding
up.--"Here, Judith, let's have another song to take the taste of old
Clifton out of our mouths. Whatever possessed him to come here
to-night?"

[Illustration: "DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES."--Page 298.]

They had two or three songs instead of one, and then Percival went off.
Judith put her work away, shut up the piano and laid Bertie's music
straight. He stood meanwhile with his back to the dying fire, idly
chinking some money which he had taken from his waistcoat-pocket, a
half-crown and two or three shillings. His brows were drawn down as if
he were lost in thought. Presently, his half-crown went spinning in the
air: he caught it dexterously--heads. Bertie half smiled to himself, as
who should say, "Well, if Destiny will have it so, what am I that I
should resist it?"

It is very well to toss up if you have already come to a decision which
you cannot quite justify. Should the verdict be adverse, it is no worse
than it was before, for if yo