Jimbo, too, felt something in his microcosmic way, only he said little and asked no single question. It betrayed itself, however, to his Mother's widened vision. He was all stirred up. He came back again from school at three o'clock--for it was Thursday and he did not take the singing lesson from three to four--put down his books with a very business-like air, forgot to kiss his Mother--and went out. 'Where are you off to, Jimbo?' She scented mischief. He was so _affaire_. He turned obediently at once, the face grave and puckered. 'Going over to the carpenter's house, Mummy.' 'What for, dear? Why don't you stay and play here?' She had the feeling that her husband was absorbed in his work and would not like to be disturbed. The boy's reply was evasive too. 'I want to have a long discuss with Daddy,' he said. 'Can't you have your long discuss with me instead?' she asked. He shook his head. 'You see,' he answered solemnly, 'it's about things.' 'But Daddy's working just now; he'll be over to tea at four. Can't it wait till then?' She understood too well to inquire what 'things' might be. The boy wished to speak with one of his own sex--as one man to another man. 'When a man's at work,' she added, 'he doesn't like to be disturbed.' 'All right,' was the reply. 'We can wait a little,' and he settled down to other things in a corner by himself. His mind, clearly, was occupied with grave considerations he could not discuss with anybody, least of all with women and children. But, of course, busy men must not be interrupted. For a whole hour in his corner he made no sound, and hardly any movement. But Daddy did not come at four o'clock. He was evidently deep in work. And Mother did not send for him. The carpenter's wife, she knew, would provide a cup of tea. He came late to supper, too, at the Pension, nodded to Mother with an expression which plainly said, 'I've finished the story at last'; winked to his cousin, meaning, 'It came out all right, I'm satisfied,' and took his seat between Jinny and Mlle. Vuillemot, the governess who had earned her meal by giving a music lesson that afternoon to a _pensionnaire_. Jinny looked sideways at him in a spirit of examination, and picked the inevitable crumb deftly from his beard. 'Reminiscences!' she observed slyly. 'You did have some tea, then.' Her long word was well chosen for once; her mind unusually logical, too.