“No, she isn't coming in to-day--I wouldn't let her. It was too early when I started. But that's not what I mean,” he went on with increasing excitement. “I want you to go home with me and stay forever; I want to forget the past; I want St. George to hear me say so! Come and take your place at the head of the estate--I will have Gorsuch arrange the papers to-morrow. You and St. George must go back with me to-day. I have the large carryall--Matthew is with me--he stopped at the corner--he's there now.” “That's very kind of you, father,” Harry rejoined calmly, concealing as best he could his disappointment at not being able to see his mother. “Yes! of course you will go with me,” his father continued in nervous, jerky tones. “Please send the servant for Matthew, my coachman, and have him drive up. As for you, St. George, you can't stay here another hour. How you ever got here is more than I can understand. Moorlands is the place for you both--you'll get well there. My carriage is a very easy one. Perhaps I had better go for Matthew myself.” “No, don't move, Talbot,” rejoined St. George in a calm firm voice wondering at Talbot's manner. He had never seen him like this. All his old-time measured talk and manner were gone; he was like some breathless, hunted man pleading for his life. “I'm very grateful to you but I shall stay here. Harry, will you kindly go for Matthew?” “Stay here!--for how long?” cried the colonel in astonishment, his glance following Harry as he left the room in obedience to his uncle's request. “Well, perhaps for the balance of the winter.” “In this hole?” His voice had grown stronger. “Certainly, why not?” replied St. George simply, moving his chair so that his guest might see him the better. “My servants are taking care of me. I can pay my way here, and it's about the only place in which I can pay it, and I want to tell you frankly, Talbot, that I am very happy to be here--am very glad, really, to get such a place. No one could be more devoted than my Todd and Jemima--I shall never forget their kindness.” “But you're not a pauper?” cried the colonel in some heat. “That was what you were once good enough to call me--the last time we met. The only change is that then I owed Pawson and that now I owe Todd,” he replied, trying to repress a smile, as if the humor of the situation would overcome him if he was not careful. “Thank you very much, Talbot--and I mean every word of it--but I'll stay where I am, at least for the present.” “But the bank is on its legs again,” rebounded the colonel, ignoring all reference to the past, his voice gaining in volume. “So am I,” laughed St. George, tapping his lean thighs with his transparent fingers--“on a very shaky pair of legs--so shaky that I shall have to go to bed again pretty soon.”