One afternoon, without apprising that daughter of his intentions, he walked over to Camberwell, to see Sidney Hinchford. That young gentleman had ventured forth into the street, and therefore Mr. Gray had leisure to put things in order during his absence; arrange the mantel-piece, and wheel the table into the exact centre of the room. Anything out of order always put him in an ill temper, and he wanted to discuss business matters in an equable way, and with as little to disturb him as possible. If anything besides business leaked forth in the course of conversation, he should not be sorry; but he would take no mean advantage of Sidney Hinchford's position. He had a scheme to propose, which might be accepted or declined--what that scheme might end in, he would not say just then. It might end in his daughter marrying Sidney, or it might only tend to that singular young man's comfort and peace of mind--at all events, harm could not evolve from it, and possibly some personal advantage to himself, though he considered that _that_ need not be taken into account. Sidney Hinchford returned, and his face lit up at the brisk "Good afternoon" of Mr. Gray. He turned a little aside from him, as if expecting a smaller, softer hand in his, a voice more musical, asking if he were well, and then his face lost a great deal of its brightness with his disappointment. "Alone?" he said. "This time, Mattie is very busy--has a large dress-making order to fulfil." "She'll kill herself with that needlework," he remarked; "it is a miserable profession, at the best." "You're quite right, Mr. Sidney. And talking about professions, have you thought of yours lately?" "Oh! I have thought of a hundred things. I must invest my capital--such as it is--in something." "Will you listen patiently to a little plan of mine? I am of the world, worldly to-day, God forgive me!" he ejaculated, piously. "What plan is that? Let us sit down and talk it over." The local preacher, lithographer, &c., sat down facing Sidney, on whose face was visible an expression of keen interest. In matters of religion, Mr. Gray was long and prosy; in matters of business, quick and terse, a man after Sidney's own heart. Two "straightforward" men like them got through a deal of business in a little time. "How much money have you at command?" "A hundred pounds, perhaps." "So have I." "What's that to do with it?" "A great deal, if you like my scheme--nothing, if you don't." "Go on." "A hundred pounds might start a business, but it's a risk--two hundred is better. How does Gray and Hinchford sound, now?" "A partnership?" "Why not? You're not fit to manage a business by yourself--I'm inclined to think the two of us might make a success of it--the three of us, if Mattie has to assist. I don't see why we should go on like this any longer--you can't stand at this rent--one house may as well hold all of us--why not?" "You are very kind. I shall be a great trouble to you."