"Yes, sir. She has been for two years teacher in a school at Richmond. If Mrs. Preen would but consent to give her a trial, I know she would prove worthy. I do not say so merely to get her the post," he continued, earnestly, "but because I really believe she could and would faithfully fulfil its duties. I would not otherwise urge it: for we have learnt not to press ourselves forward at the expense of other people's interests, whatever the need." "Well, Raynor: I cannot say anything myself about this matter; it is Mrs. Preen's business and not mine," spoke the lawyer, upon whom Charles's story and Charles's manner had made an impression. "If your sister likes to call and see Mrs. Preen she can do so." "Oh, thank you; thank you very much, sir," said Charles. "I am sure you will like Alice." "Stay; not so fast"--for Charley was leaving the room in eager haste. "Do you know where my house is?" "To be sure I do, sir--in Bayswater. I have been up there with messages for you." "So that's young Raynor!" cried the gentleman at the fire, turning as Charles went out, and taking a look at him. "It is young Raynor, one of our copying-clerks," acquiesced Mr. Preen. "But I never knew he was one of the Raynors who were connected with Eagles' Nest." "Is he steady?--hardworking?" "Quite so, I think. He keeps his hours punctually, and does his work well. He has been here nearly two years." "Is not upstart and lazy?" Mr. Preen laughed. "He has no opportunity of being either. I fancy he and his family have to live in a very humble, reduced sort of way. If they were the Raynors of Eagles' Nest--and of course they were, or he would not say so--they must have been finding the world pretty hard of late." "So much the better," remarked the stranger. "By what I have heard, they needed to find it so." "He has to make no end of shifts, for want of means. At first the clerks made fun of him; but they left it off: he took it so helplessly and patiently. His clothes are often threadbare; he walks to and fro, instead of riding as the others do, though I fancy it is close upon three miles. I don't believe he has a proper dinner one day out of the six." The stranger nodded complacently: as if the information gave him intense satisfaction. "I wish I could persuade you to come home and dine with me," resumed Mr. Preen, as he concluded his preparations for departure. "I am not well enough to do so. I am fit for nothing to-night but bed. Will one of your people call a cab for me? Oh, here's Prestleigh." As Charles had gone out, dashing along the passage from his interview, he nearly dashed against Mr. Prestleigh, who was coming up, some papers in hand. "Take care, Raynor! What are you in such a hurry about? Is Mr. George Atkinson gone?" "Who, sir?" asked Charles, struck with the name. "Mr. George Atkinson. Is he still with Mr. Preen?" "Some gentleman is with him, sir. He is sitting over the fire. "The same, no doubt. He is a great invalid just now."