Mr. Hamilton’s eyes encountered those of Paul Charteris for one moment—a moment charged with sympathy, pregnant with feeling—and both men endeavoured to conceal their amusement by pulling at their moustaches. "Do I understand that by ’two serviceable clerks’ you refer to yourself and your brother Edward?" asked Mr. Hamilton, when he had sufficiently recovered himself. "Yes," Hazel replied cheerfully. "I am much more business-like than I appear—Teddie you already know. I am not saying that the advantage would be all on your side," she went on, "only, naturally I like to think of you first. The advantage to me would be very great; indeed, if you don’t take me, I am afraid I shall have to give up the idea altogether, because mother is very particular in her wish that I should not travel or walk alone. Now this arrangement"—and the girl made an airy gesture with her hand in her brother’s direction—"would give me Teddie’s company from door to door; and if on occasion, say a press of work, he could not take me to lunch, you would see that another clerk went with me, wouldn’t you?" and she looked to Paul for sympathy in so congenial a plan. "I certainly should be very much tempted to make an exception to my rule, if by doing so you would honour me by coming daily to my office," Mr. Hamilton responded gallantly; "but, my dear young lady, with all these brothers, there cannot be the slightest necessity for——" "Oh, no necessity," Hazel interposed. "Just for pocket-money, you know, and—and to feel that I am doing my part." "But," suggested Paul quietly, "is it not the part of an only and much-beloved daughter to stay at home, to be a companion to her mother, and to make home a bright and happy place for the workers to come to?" "I should not be much with mother, certainly," Hazel said reflectively; "but, as to the boys, why, I should be home when they were." "Apart from the—er—inadvisability on several scores," Mr. Hamilton resumed, smiling kindly at the girl, "your mother could never spare you, my child; an only daughter must be an unspeakable treasure—one that she must always wish to keep near her. And—pardon me if I seem amused at what I see you take so seriously—but, it is not conceivable; one cannot imagine you in the City." In which sentiment Paul appeared to participate. "That is what they all say," Hazel rejoined, somewhat mournfully. "Well," she added, more cheerfully, "to stay with her, I suppose, _is_ doing something for mother." *CHAPTER VII*