On the Wednesday evening Richard took tea at the Crabtree, so that he might go down by train to Parson's Green direct from Charing Cross. The coffee-room was almost empty of customers; and Miss Roberts, who appeared to be in attendance there, was reading in the "cosy corner," an angle of the room furnished with painted mirrors and a bark bench of fictitious rusticity. "What are you doing up here?" he asked, when she brought his meal. "Aren't you cashier downstairs any longer?" "Oh, yes," she said, "I should just think I was. But the girl that waits in this room, Miss Pratt, has her half-holiday on Wednesdays, and I come here, and the governor takes my place downstairs. I do it to oblige him. He's a gentleman, he is. _That_ polite! I have my half-holiday on Fridays." "Well, if you've nothing else to do, what do you say to pouring out my tea for me?" "Can't you pour it out yourself? Poor thing!" She smiled pityingly, and began to pour out the tea. "Sit down," Richard suggested. "No, thank you," she said. "There! If it isn't sweet enough, you can put another lump in yourself;" and she disappeared behind the screen which hid the food-lift. Presently he summoned her to make out his check. He was debating whether to tell her that Mr. Aked was ill. Perhaps if he did so she might request to be informed how the fact concerned herself. He decided to say nothing, and was the more astonished when she began: "Did you know Mr. Aked was very ill?" "Yes. Who told you?" "Why, I live near him, a few doors away--didn't I tell you once?--and their servant told ours." "Told your servant?" "Yes," said Miss Roberts, reddening a little, and with an inflection which meant, "I suppose you thought _my_ family wouldn't have a servant!" "Oh!" He stopped a moment, and then an idea came to him. "It must have been you who called last night to inquire!" He wondered why Adeline had been so curt with her. "Were you there then?" "Oh, yes. I know the Akeds pretty well." "The doctor says he'll not get better. What do you think?" "I'm afraid it's a bad lookout." "Very sad for poor Miss Aked, isn't it?" she said, and something in the tone made Richard look up at her. "Yes," he agreed. "Of course you like her?" "I scarcely know her--it's the old man I know," he replied guardedly. "Well, if you ask me, I think she's a bit stand-offish." "Perhaps that's only her manner." "You've noticed it too, have you?" "Not a bit. I've really seen very little of her." "Going down again to-night?" "I may do." Nothing had passed between Adeline and himself as to his calling that day, but when he got to Carteret Street she evidently accepted his presence as a matter of course, and he felt glad. There was noting in her demeanour to recall the scene of the previous night. He did not stay long. Mr. Aked's condition was unchanged. Adeline had watched by him all day, while the nurse slept, and now she confessed to an indisposition.