But Alice Maud was by no means what she had been. In all that concerned his sister, Mutimer was weak; he could quarrel with her, and abuse her roundly for frailties, but none the less was it one of his keenest pleasures to see her contented, even in ways that went quite against his conscience. He might rail against the vanity of dress, but if Alice needed a new gown, Richard was the first to notice it. The neat little silver watch she carried was a gift from himself of some years back; with difficulty he had resisted the temptation to replace it with a gold one now that it was in his power to do so. Tolerable taste and handiness with her needle had always kept Alice rather more ladylike in appearance than the girls of her class are wont to be, but such comparative distinction no longer sufficed. After certain struggles with himself, Richard had told his mother that Alice must in future dress ‘as a lady’; he authorised her to procure the services of a competent dressmaker, and, within the bounds of moderation, to expend freely. And the result was on the whole satisfactory. A girl of good figure, pretty face, and moderate wit, who has spent some years in a City showroom, does not need much instruction in the art of wearing fashionable attire becomingly. Alice wore this evening a gown which would not have been out of place at five o’clock in a West-end drawing-room; the sleeves were rather short, sufficiently so to exhibit a very shapely lower arm. She had discovered new ways of doing her hair; at present it was braided on either side of the forehead--a style which gave almost a thoughtful air to her face. When her brother entered she was eating a piece of sponge-cake, which she held to her lips with peculiar delicacy, as if rehearsing graces. ‘Why, there now!’ cried Mrs. Mutimer, pleased to see her son. ‘If I wasn’t saying not five minutes ago as Dick was likely to come some day in the week! Wasn’t I, Alice? What’ll you have for your tea? There’s some chops all ready in the ‘ouse, if you’d care for them.’ Richard was not in a cheerful mood. He made no reply immediately, but went and stood before the fireplace, as he had been accustomed to do in the old kitchen. ‘Will you have a chop?’ repeated his mother. ‘No; I won’t eat just yet. But you can give me a cup of tea.’ Mrs. Mutimer and Alice exchanged a glance, as the former bent over the teapot. Richard was regarding his brother askance, and it resulted in a question, rather sharply put-- ‘Have you been to work to-day?’ ‘Arry would have lied had he dared; as it was, he made his plate revolve, and murmured, ‘No; he ‘adn’t.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘I didn’t feel well,’ replied the youth, struggling for self-confidence and doing his best to put on an air of patient suffering. Richard tapped his tea-cup and looked the look of one who reserves discussion for a more seasonable time.