Mr Carter hurried home about six o'clock. He had spent a busy day in Newcastle, and had gone through a few worries. He took the worries of life hard. He was exacting on all nice points of honour, and one of his clerks had deceived him. His mind, therefore, was especially sore as he sank back in the luxurious carriage which was to convey him back to Court Prospect. Halfway back he also remembered the affair of the sovereign. The loss of the sovereign was a mere nothing, but the fact that one of his dependents could steal from a private purse kept in one of his drawers, meant a great deal. "Of course, it's that girl," he thought. "She's as bad in her way as young Hanson is in his. I am sorry for them both, of course, but as I said to Hanson, if he had told me that he was in money difficulties, I would have helped him out; but instead of that he thought he'd help himself. Well, he has helped himself out of my service for ever; that's plain, that's only justice, and that girl, Betty Wren, if she doesn't confess, she'll go the same road; I vow it, and I'm a man who never yet broke my word." But as he got nearer to the house, more pleasurable thoughts succeeded the dismal ones. There was Jim--his eldest son, his pride, his boy. He had had a business letter from Jim that morning which had not arrived at Court Prospect, but had been sent to his father's big offices in Newcastle, and in that letter it turned out that Jim had done splendidly. He had acted with tact and diplomacy, and would soon be back again. "Won't I give him a good time for this?" thought the father. "He is a lad to be proud of. Hullo, though, who's that?" He had turned into the avenue now; the horses were going under the beautiful beech trees at a spanking trot, and a girl was coming slowly to meet him. "Why, if that isn't my own Pen," he said. He was so amazed and startled that he pulled the check string, and the carriage stopped. "Hullo, Pen!" he said. "What in the name of wonder are you doing here? What is the matter? Here, jump in, child." Pen obeyed. "I want you, father," she spoke in a tremulous voice--"I want you to come into the study the very minute you get home. I have something to say to you." Mr Carter turned round and gazed at Pen in surprise. "Have you been ill?" he asked. "Why didn't you go with the others to Whitby?" "I'll tell you when we get in the study." He looked at her again, and a frown came between his brows. He did not know why he was suddenly reminded of young Hanson and of Betty Wren, but he was. Oh, of course it was all nonsense, his little Pen--and yet she kept her face averted. Presently they reached the house. Her father helped her out of the carriage.