The children were all open-eyed and open-mouthed next morning to see Paul’s friend. As for the boys, they did not feel at all sure what might have been going on during the night, or whether Paul’s friend would be visible in the morning. “It is money those sort of fellows want,” Roland said; and then the question arose whether papa being away mamma would have money enough to satisfy such a claimant. The little girls besieged Alice with questions. Who was that strange man? He looked exactly like the man that came to wind the clocks. “He is a friend of Paul’s; hush--hush!” said Alice; “you must all be very polite and not stare at him.” “But how can he be a friend?” demanded Bell. “He is a bailiff,” said Roland. “In _Harry Lorrequer_ there is somebody exactly like that.” “Oh, hush, children, for mamma’s sake! he will come in directly. He is Paul’s friend. Grown-up people do not go by appearances like children. Paul says he has done him more good than all the dons. Most likely he is a very learned man--or an author or something,” Alice said. “Oh, an author! they’re a queer lot,” said Harry, with relief. At all events, an author was less objectionable than a bailiff. Lady Markham came in before these questions were over. She was not all so bright as usual. Though she smiled upon them as they all came round her, it was not her own natural smile; and she had a cap on, a thing which she only wore when she was out of sorts, a kind of signal of distress. The family were divided as to this cap. Some of them were in favour of it, some against it. The little girls thought it made their mother look old, whereas Alice was of opinion that it imparted dignity to her appearance. “I don’t want to have a mother just as young and a great deal prettier than I am,” she said. But Bell and Marie called out, “Oh, that odious cap!” “Why should mamma, only because she is mamma, cover up all her pretty hair? It is such pretty hair! mine is just the same colour,” said Bell, who was inclined to vanity. Lady Markham smiled upon this charming nonsense, but it was not her own smile. “Has any one seen Paul this morning?” she said, with a sigh. What a change there was in everything! Paul had not come into his mother’s dressing-room last night to talk over all he had been doing and meant to do, as had always been his habit when he came home. And when Lady Markham went to her boy’s room on her way down stairs, thinking of nothing but the little laughing lecture she was wont to administer on finding him not yet out of bed--which was the usual state of affairs--what was her surprise to find Paul out of his room, already dressed, and “gone for a walk.” Brown meeting her in the hall told her this with a subdued voice and mingled wonder and sympathy in his face. “Mr. Markham is turning over a new leaf, my lady,” he said, with the license of an old servant, who had seen Paul born, so to speak.