“Grey? Yes. Quite the old man. You must blame these romping, rollicking boys and girls for that. A man with such a family can scarcely keep his youthful appearance.” The Doctor thought there could not be a more delightful, well-appointed home in all England than this. The house had every modern convenience that science could devise, and it was artistic, as well as comfortable, in all its arrangements. Mrs. Stapleton had proved herself equal to their change of fortune, and the house had a very gracious lady at the head of its domestic affairs. There had been no stint of money anywhere. The young people had their own rooms, simply but not cheaply furnished. The pictures were some of the most beautiful and costly of modern times. All the latest books were in the library, and all the latest fashions in the drawing-room. Servants, with perfect manners, moved about the place, forestalling the wishes of the household and their guests. Dr. Stapleton had never dined before as he dined at his brother’s table, nor listened to finer music than that which was provided for him afterwards, nor slept in such a sumptuous chamber. The next morning it seemed to him that the proofs of immense wealth were even more abundant than had been apparent the night before. The stables and coach-houses were buildings that might have served a poor man for his home, and were filled with expensive carriages and horses. And the gardens were fit for a nobleman. At the breakfast-table the members of the family appeared dressed in exquisite taste. Not a bit of vulgar finery was to be seen upon any of them. The children, not particularly pretty, perhaps, had been made to look so by the careful arrangement of hair and clothes. Stapleton was sure that more than money was expended in order to produce the harmonious whole which proved so attractive; and that thought, care, culture, and talent had been summoned to the aid of his brother and his sister-in-law in order to make their home what it was. A very merry party partook of the morning meal; for there is always plenty of fun where young people live; and the Doctor was glad to observe how clever and refined were even the jokes. But he noticed something else which qualified his pleasure, and this was a look of care and harassment which sat like a black shadow upon the brow of his brother, who took little food, and scarcely joined in the conversation. At first this seemed to escape the notice of all but himself; but at last his eldest daughter, Matilda, remarked upon it. “Is there anything you could eat, father? We will get it from the ends of the earth if you will name it.” Mr. Stapleton laughed. “My appetite has not come yet, Mat; but perhaps it will later.” “You are worried as usual about those horrible men. I wish you would retire from business altogether, and let the wretched creatures find work somewhere else, or starve, as they deserve to do.”