For the first few evenings, at least, Charlie brought his books upstairs; and that was delightful. Simply to have him there at the end of the table, and to hear him muttering weird words to himself when he couldn't quite understand anything; to see him puffing at his pipe (for Patience, after a feeble protest, had given in, and now merely sniffed ominously from time to time), all this was as it should be. Once or twice, too, Moira went down to his rooms, saw the wonderful array of books and pipes, and wondered and admired. The house was completely changed with his coming, and could never be the same again. He was sitting one evening yawning over his books, and now and then glancing up at the pleasant figure of Moira at the other side of the table, when he raised his head, and sat still, listening; someone was coming up the stairs. That was strange at that hour of the evening; it must be a visitor who had been directed to come up by the landlady. Patience was nodding in her chair as usual; the two young people whispered eagerly, as they listened to the somewhat stumbling steps upon the stairs. "I wonder who it can be?" whispered Charlie. "I expect it's someone for me--and they've come up----" The words died on his lips as the door opened behind him and a head was thrust in. Charlie had turned, and Moira had risen to her feet; the head at which they both looked was the ragged and unkempt one of Anthony Ditchburn. Charlie uttered a groan, and sank back in his chair. "Ah!--glad to find you at last," said Mr. Ditchburn, cheerfully. "I went to your old lodgings, and they gave me your new address; you forgot to send it to me--or to write to me." By this time he was actually in the room, and was looking round benevolently on the others without in the least recognising them. "Now, look here, Ditchburn," exclaimed Charlie, rising to his feet, "this is getting really a little too thick. I've got work to do--and I've really moved----" Moira put him aside quickly, and advanced to the old man. "Mr. Ditchburn!" she exclaimed, in a surprised voice. "Why, of course--I knew you at once." Anthony looked somewhat astonished, but, scenting here a new ally, took her hand, and smiled in triumph at Charlie. "Another friend!" he said, "although I do not at the moment recall the lady's name. My eyes are not what they were; privation and sorrow, and much poring over books----" "You remember me?--Moira?" she said quickly. He had to search his mind for a moment or two before he remembered; in his old selfish days he had not troubled much about the children or their names. But perhaps the presence of Charlie jogged his memory; he seized the girl's hands, and beamed upon her. "Little Moira!" he exclaimed. "This is delightful!" Patience had by this time got to her feet; he recognised her more promptly, probably from the fact that in the old days she had been the one to feed him and look to his comforts.