"Don't you see the trouble and the misery that is coming upon me through the extravagance of this young scamp? How is it you are so short-sighted, so dense about it? I tell you he is _ruining_ me, this Jack you are all so fond of; and in ruining me he is taking the bread out of your own mouths, and out of the mouths of your brothers and sisters. Hey? Do you see now?" And finding that mercenary argument did not produce the effect he wanted, Sir Marcus fled from the sound of voices coming dangerously near, and beat a sheepish retreat into his library on the opposite side of the hall. "It is curious," said Digby, in his oratorical way, "how the father can forgive anything but want of solid success. He doesn't care a hang that Jack has been the most popular fellow in the colony, but if he had made his pile and had something to show for his popularity, then he would proclaim it on the housetops. What a curious age it is, and how we love to judge by results! By the way, Jack will have a warm time if the father keeps it up, won't he?" Even the prophet has to drop into the colloquial sometimes. "Good thing too, it's what he wants," said the inconsistent Helen; and they both glanced at the expressionless face of Lady Joan as she scanned the article on "Chinese architecture," and they left her to go and join the throng in the porch. In the library on the other side of the hall stood Sir Marcus, his back to the door and his feet set very square on the hearthrug, trying to drown the noise of welcome in the porch by rustling the newspaper in his hands loudly, while he kept his eyes obstinately fixed on the Premier's speech on fruit-growing for the million.