themselves supplied the thread of connection. Even this, however, had not made them dislike their old friend. At one moment of especial wickedness Oswald, indeed, had designated their father’s deputy as the Spy; but this was simply a spark of malicious boyhood, struck out in a moment of resentment, and did not permanently affect their minds, though the title lasted. The Spy was, on the whole, friendly and indulgent--sometimes even he got them out of small scrapes, and it was he who persuaded the mother that furtive cigars and other precocious masculinities were not criminal. So that altogether, notwithstanding his ominous name, he was not unpopular in the house. It was but lately that he had taken to coming to those almost daily receptions, which was so principal a feature in Mrs. Meredith’s existence. There he would sit and watch her proceedings, her sympathetic talks, the audiences she gave, and all the little acts of adoration performed before her, with not unkindly eyes. She was a kind of gentle impostor, a natural humbug, to old Sommerville; but he laughed softly to himself as he thus characterised her, and did not like her less. Never, during all these years, amid all this popularity, had she given him occasion for a word of serious warning. Amid all the admiration and semi-worship she had received, the kind but watchful Spy had found no harm in her; but now, at last, here was something which called for his interference. To see him arrive at that hour in the morning was alarming in itself to Mrs. Meredith. She met him with her usual kind smile, but with an earnest look of inquiry. ‘Is anything the matter?’ she said. ‘Send the boy away,’ said Mr. Sommerville, in an undertone. It was Edward who was in the room, and his mother found a commission for him with tremulous haste; for the distant Meredith was not always reasonable in his requirements, and of late had written impatiently about the coming out of one of his sons--a calamity which their mother with all her might was endeavouring to stave off and postpone. She thought her husband’s friend must bring still more urgent orders, and her heart began to beat. ‘I wish you would go and tell Cara that I hope she will come to the Sympsons with me this afternoon, Edward,’ she said. And Edward, full of the thought of his brother’s happiness, and loth yet eager to see if Cara was happy in this new development of affairs, obeyed reluctantly, but still with a secret alacrity. She was left alone with the mentor, who had so often brought her advice or semi-reproof. ‘You have something to tell me? Oh, Mr. Sommerville, what is it?’ she cried. ‘It is nothing very bad. You must not be alarmed--there is no ill news,’ he said.