“Yes, sir,” Harry's voice grew still more earnest. “And by that time, perhaps, I can express my regret to you, for things done and things left undone, with more convincingness.” The older man made a slight gesture of rejection with one well-kept hand. “Let bygones be bygones,” he returned briefly. “When I think,” pursued Harry, his impulsive manner in strange contrast to that of his listener, “that if I had been behaving myself all this time, I might have seen dear old Lawrence again!” Mr. Evringham kept silence. “How are Madge and Eloise? I thought perhaps Madge might come in and meet us at the train.” “They are in the best of health, thank you. Eh--a--I think if you'll call your daughter now we will go. It's rather a long ride, you know. No express trains at this hour. When you return we will have more of a visit.” Harry and his wife exchanged a glance. “Why Jewel is asleep,” answered the young man after a pause. “She was so sleepy she couldn't hold her eyes open.” “You mean you've let her go to bed?” asked Mr. Evringham, with a not very successful attempt to veil his surprise and annoyance. “Why--yes. We supposed she would see us off, you know.” “Your memory is rather short, it strikes me,” returned his father. “You sail at eight A.M., I believe. Did you think I could get in from Bel-Air at that hour?” “No. I thought you would naturally remain in the city over night. You used to stay in rather frequently, didn't you?” “I've not done so for five years; but you couldn't know that. Is it out of the question to dress the child again? I hope she is too healthy to be disturbed by a trifle like that.” Mrs. Evringham cast a startled look at her father-in-law. “It would disappoint Jewel very much not to see us off,” she returned. Mr. Evringham shrugged his shoulders. “Let it go then. Let it go,” he said quickly. Harry's plain face had grown concerned. “Is Mrs. Forbes with you still?” he asked. “Oh, yes. I couldn't keep house without Mrs. Forbes. Well,” rising, “if you young people will excuse me, I believe I will go to the club and turn in.” “Couldn't you stand it here one night, do you think?” asked Harry, rising. “The club is rather far uptown for such an early start.” “No. I'll be on hand. I'm used to rising early for a canter. I'll take it with a cab horse this time. That will be all the difference.” And with this attempt at jocularity, Mr. Evringham shook hands once more and departed, swallowing his ill-humor as best he could. Any instincts of the family man which might once have reigned in him had long since been inhibited. This episode was a cruel invasion upon his bachelor habits. Left alone, Harry and his wife without a word ascended to their room and with one accord approached the little bed in the corner where their child lay asleep. The man took his wife's hand. “I've done it now, Julia,” he said dejectedly. “It's my confounded optimism again.”