'As a policeman was once called into you, in the years gone by,' Lawyer Gwinn was beginning with a sneer: but Mr. Hunter raised his voice and his hand. 'Be still! Coward as I have been, in one sense, in yielding to your terms, I have never been coward enough to permit _you_ to allude, in my presence, to the past. I never will. Go from my house quietly, sir: and do not attempt to re-enter it.' Mr. Hunter broke from the man--for Gwinn made an effort to detain him--opened the door, and called to the servant, who came forward. 'Show this person to the door, Richard.' An instant's hesitation with himself whether it should be compliance or resistance, and Gwinn of Ketterford went forth. 'Richard,' said Mr. Hunter, as the servant closed the hall-door.--'Sir?' 'Should that man ever come here again, do not admit him. And if he shows himself troublesome, call a policeman to your aid.' And then Mr. Hunter shut himself in the room, and burst into heavy tears, such as are rarely shed by man. CHAPTER VI. THE LITTLE BOY AT REST. No clue whatever had been obtained to the assailants of John Baxendale. The chief injury lay in the ribs. Two or three of them were broken: the head was also much bruised and cut. He had been taken into his own home and there attended to: it was nearer than the hospital: though the latter would have been the better place. Time had gone on since, and he was now out of danger. Never would John Baxendale talk of the harshness of masters again--though, indeed, he never much talked of it. The moment Mr. Hunter heard of the assault, he sent round his own surgeon, directed Austin to give Baxendale a sovereign weekly, and caused strengthening delicacies to be served from his own house. And that was the same man whom you heard forbidding his wife and daughter to forward aid to Darby's starving children. Yes; but Mr. Hunter denied the aid upon principle: Darby would not work. It pleased him far more to accord it to Baxendale than to deny it to Darby: the one course gladdened his heart, the other pained it. The surgeon who attended was a particular friend of Dr. Bevary's, and the Doctor, in his quaint, easy manner, contrived to let Baxendale know that there would be no bill for him to pay. It was late when Austin reached Baxendale's room the evening of Mrs. Hunter's death. Tidings of which had already gone abroad. 'Oh, sir,' uttered the invalid, straining his eyes on him from the sick-bed, before Austin had well entered, 'is the news true?' 'It is,' sadly replied Austin. 'She died this afternoon.' 'It is a good lady gone from among us. Does the master take on much?' 'I have not seen him since. Death came on, I believe, rather suddenly at the last.'