"So we said good-bye," continued Dick, keeping the latter part of the interview to himself; "and in October I shall go back for the term, as I promised. We can settle about the other things after Christmas." "Oh, yes, we can talk about that by and by," replied his father, hastily; and then he waxed cheerful all at once, and called his son's attention to some new houses they were building. "After all, Hadleigh is not such a bad little place," he observed; "and they gave us a very good dinner at the hotel. It is not every one who can cook fish like that." And then Dick knew that the storm had blown over for the present, and that his father intended to make himself pleasant and ignore all troublesome topics. Dick was a little tired when he went to bed; but, on the whole, he was not unhappy. It was quite true that the idea of a City life was repugnant to him, but the thought of Nan sweetened even that. Nothing else remained to him if his father chose to be disagreeable and withdraw his allowance, or threaten to cut him off with a shilling, as other fellows' fathers did in novels. "It is uncommonly unpleasant, having to wage war with one's own father," thought Dick, as he laid his sandy head on the pillow. "He is such an old trump, too, that it goes against the grain. But when it comes to his wanting to choose a wife for me, it is too much of a good thing: it is tyranny fit for the Middle Ages. Let him threaten if he likes. He will find I shall take his threats in earnest. After Christmas I will have it out with him again; and if he will not listen to reason, I will go up to Mr. James Stanfield myself, and then he will see that I mean what I say. Heigho! I am not such a lucky fellow as Hamilton always thinks me." And at this juncture of his sad cogitations Dick forgot all about it, and fell asleep. Yes, Dick slept the sleep of the just. It was Mr. Drummond who was wakeful and uneasy that night. A vague sense of something wrong tormented him waking and sleeping. Who was that sandy-headed young fellow who had been twice to the Friary that day. What business had he to be shutting the gate after him in that free-and-easy way at ten o'clock at night? He must find it out somehow; he must make an excuse for calling there, and put the question as indifferently as he could; but even when he made up his mind to pursue this course, Archie felt just as restless as ever. He made his way to the cottage as early as possible. Phillis, who was alone in the work-room, colored a little as she saw him coming in at the gate. He came so often, he was so kind, so attentive to them all, and yet she had a dim doubt in her mind that troubled her at times. Was it for Nan's sake that he came? Could she speak and undeceive him before things went too far with him? Yes, when the opportunity offered, she thought she could speak, even though the speaking would be painful to her.