After the Sisters departed, a young architect had appeared at supper. A point of difference had arisen between him and Mr. Helbeck. He was to be employed, it appeared, in the enlargement of this blessed orphanage. Mr. Helbeck, no doubt, with a view to his pocket--to do him justice, there seemed to be no other pocket concerned than his--was of opinion that certain existing buildings could be made use of in the new scheme. The architect--a nervous young fellow, with awkward manners, and the ambitions of an artist--thought not, and held his own, insistently. The discussion grew vehement. Suddenly Helbeck lost his temper. "Mr. Munsey! I must ask you to give more weight, if you please, to my wishes in this matter! They may be right or wrong--but it would save time, perhaps, if we assumed that they would prevail." The note of anger in the voice made every one look up. The Squire stood erect a moment; crumpled in his hand a half-sheet of paper on which young Munsey had been making some calculations, and flung it into the fire. Augustina sat cowering. The young man himself turned white, bowed, and said nothing. While Father Bowles, of course, like the old tabby that he was, had at once begun to purr conciliation. "Would I have stood meek and mum if _I'd_ been the young man!" thought Laura. "Would I! Oh! if I'd had the chance! And he should not have made up so easily, either." For she remembered, also, how, after Father Bowles was gone, she had come in from the garden to find Mr. Helbeck and the architect pacing the long hall together, on what seemed to be the friendliest of terms. For nearly an hour, while she and Augustina sat reading over the fire, the colloquy went on. Helbeck's tones then were of the gentlest; the young man too spoke low and eagerly, pressing his plans. And once when Laura looked up from her book, she had seen Helbeck's arm resting for a moment on the young fellow's shoulder. Oh! no doubt Mr. Helbeck could make himself agreeable when he chose--and struggling architects must put up with the tempers of their employers. All the more did Miss Fountain like to think that the Squire could compel no court from her. She recalled that when Mr. Munsey had said good-night, and they three were alone in the firelit hall, Helbeck had come to stand beside her. He had looked down upon her with an air which was either kindness or weariness; he had been willing--even, she thought, anxious to talk with her. But she did not mean to be first trampled on, then patronised, like the young man. So Mr. Helbeck had hardly begun--with that occasional timidity which sat so oddly on his dark and strong physique--to speak to her of the two Sisters of Charity who had been his guests in the afternoon, when she abruptly discovered it was time to say good-night. She winced a little as she remembered the sudden stiffening of his look, the careless touch of his hand. * * * * *