"I told him to-night we did not care about his patronage, and could work our way in the world--that at so late an hour, when the worst was over, we would prefer to thank ourselves for the result. I don't say that I was right, father," he added; "but there was a satisfaction in saying so, and in showing that we did not jump at any favour he might think it friendly to concede." "You're a brave lad," remarked the father, relapsing into thought again; "and perhaps it is as well to show we don't care for him. He talked about my turn next, you say?" "Yes." "That means, that he'll never come here again, or make another effort to be friends. Oh! he's as hard as iron when he says a thing, Sid." "Shall I tell you what I have thought, sir?--it goes against the foolish oath you took, but I think you'll be forgiven for it." "What have you thought?" he asked with eagerness. "That it shall be our turn some day--some early day, I hope--to visit him, and say:--'We are in a good position in life, and above all help, shall we be friends again?'" "To walk into his counting-house, and surprise him?" cried the father; "for me to say:--'I owe all to my son's energy and cleverness, and can afford to face you, without being suspected of wanting your money.' Well, we ought to bear and forbear; I don't think it would be so very hard to make it up with him!" It was a subject that discomposed Mr. Hinchford--that kept him restless and disturbed. His son detected this, and brushed all the papers into a heap, thrust them into the recesses of his desk, and began hunting about for the backgammon-board. The past had been ever a subject kept in the background, and of late years his father had not seemed capable of hearing any news, good or bad, with a fair semblance of composure. The change in him had been a matter of regret with Sidney; far off in the distance, perhaps, there might loom a great trouble for him--he almost fancied so at times. Meanwhile, there were troubles nearer than that fancied one--man is born unto them, as the sparks fly upwards. CHAPTER IV. PERPLEXITY. Harriet Wesden had spoken more than once to Mattie of the Eveleighs, a family which plays no part in these pages, although, from Harriet's knowledge of it, every after page of this story will be influenced. A Miss Eveleigh, an only daughter, and a spoiled one, had been a schoolfellow of Harriet's; an intimacy had existed between them in the old days, and when school days were ended for good, a correspondence was kept up, which resulted, eventually, in flying visits to each other's houses--the house in Camberwell, and Miss Eveleigh's residence at New Cross.