down that the arrangement
had more of artifice than nature in it. But while having the sense to
suspect this, he was rather flattered than otherwise in his suspicion,
and as with most young men of his age, a show of friendliness from a
young lady reached home to that piece of vanity which we all have
somewhere concealed, and sometimes, maybe, not even hidden.

He noticed in a sidelong glance, and possibly for the first time, that
the profile of Miss Winton's face was distinctly good. The nose was
almost Jewish, and all the better for that; the mouth perhaps too small,
but that was not seen in the side view; the chin neat, and sweeping
gracefully into a neck of which the owner was doubtless proud, as she
had not been at pains to hide it. Nor could a fault be found with her
endowment of fair hair, displayed low-coiled, and decorated with a
glittering diamond clasp. The diamonds were paste, of course, but what
of that? They sparkled. It must be accepted as proof of Henry's opening
eyes that he noticed these things, and found himself wondering if a
certain other young lady possessed such good looks. For the life of him
he could not say; and he took that, foolishly, as evidence in favour of
the girl by his side. His thoughts were immediately turned on himself,
when Edgar exclaimed:

"By the way, dad, I'm the first to tell Henry that he is likely to be my
new boss."

"Edgar, you're hopeless," put in Flo.

"If you mean your new editor," said Mr. Winton sententiously, as he
finished the carving of the cold roast, "then I'm glad to hear it, and I
hope he will boss some of his good sense into you."

"Then it is really true that Mr. Macgregor is leaving?" said Mrs.
Winton, with a look towards Henry.

"So Edgar tells me, but I have heard nothing official, and I have
purposely kept away from the office to-night."

"You can take it from me that his going is a dead cert," resumed the
irrepressible young man; adding with a glance at his father, whose
philological strictness was a source of sorrow to the son, "That is,
there seems to be very little doubt about the matter. And if old Mac
goes, Henry is well in the running for the editorial chair, and a rocky
bit of furniture that is."

"I wonder," said Flo, leaning forward with a quizzing glance to catch
Henry's eye, "if you would be a hard taskmaster, Henry?" It was
difficult for the girl to go on Mistering when the others Henried to
their heart's content. "I am sure you coul