He went back to his seat and resumed his work. It occurred to him that he ought to let his partner know what he had seen, and when Hardy returned he had barely seated himself before Mr. Swann with a mysterious smile crossed over to him, bearing a sheet of foolscap. “Try and dress as well as my partner,” read the astonished Hardy. “What’s the matter with my clothes? What do you mean?” Mr. Swann, in place of answering, returned to his desk and, taking up another sheet of foolscap, began to write again, holding up his hand for silence as Hardy repeated his question. When he had finished his task he brought it over and placed it in the other’s hand. [Illustration: “Mr. Swann with growing astonishment slowly mastered the contents.”] “Take her little brother out for walks.” Hardy crumpled the paper up and flung it aside. Then, with his face crimson, he stared wrathfully at the benevolent Swann. “It’s the safest card in the pack,” said the latter. “You please everybody; especially the little brother. You should always hold his hand—it looks well for one thing, and if you shut your eyes—” “I don’t want any of your nonsense,” said the maddened Jem. “What do you mean by reading my private papers?” “I came over to look for the manifest,” said Mr. Swann, “and I read it before I could make out what it was. You must admit it’s a bit cryptic. I thought it was a new game at first. Getting hold of the old lady sounds like a sort of blind-man’s buff. But why not get hold of the young one? Why waste time over—” “Go to the devil,” said the junior partner. “Any more suggestions I can give you, you are heartily welcome to,” said Mr. Swann, going back to his seat. “All my vast experience is at your service, and the best and sweetest and prettiest girls in Sunwich regard me as a sort of second father.” “What’s a second father?” inquired Jim, looking up—“a grandfather?” “Go your own way,” said the other; “I wash my hands of you. You’re not in earnest, or you’d clutch at any straw. But let me give you one word of advice. Be careful how you get hold of the old lady; let her understand from the commencement that it isn’t her.” Mr. Hardy went on with his work. There was a pile of it in front of him and an accumulation in his drawers. For some time he wrote assiduously, but work was dry after the subject they had been discussing. He looked over at his partner and, seeing that that gentleman was gravely busy, reopened the matter with a jeer. “Old maids always know most about rearing children,” he remarked; “so I suppose old bachelors, looking down on life from the top shelf, think they know most about marriage.” “I wash my hands of you,” repeated the senior, placidly. “I am not to be taunted into rendering first aid to the wounded.” The conscience-stricken junior lost his presence of mind. “Who’s trying to taunt you?” he demanded, hotly. “Why, you’d do more harm than good.”