"No, thank you--nothing," he replied to Martha's inquiries as to what he would have, delivered in a tone suggestive of latent resentment of untimely meals. "Nothing except a glass of sherry--you can get me that, I suppose--and a biscuit; and stay--I shall want a cab in--yes, in ten minutes. Is the boy in?--you have a boy, I suppose? In ten minutes, remember;" for Martha's muttered reply that she "would see" was not very promising. She was as good as, or rather better than, her words. Within the prescribed time the cab was at the door, and Gerald ready (for a postscript to Frank's note had told him "not to trouble about dressing. It would be too late if he stopped to unpack, and there were only to be one or two gentlemen at the Laurences'"), and rattling off again through the plashing streets, along the muddy road leading to the suburb where Mr Laurence lived. It was not a long drive, barely a mile, but to Gerald it seemed hours till he at last found himself standing outside the familiar door, the rain beating down steadily on his umbrella. The servant who opened here was also a stranger to him, and evidently Frank had forgotten to mention his brother's possible appearance, for she stood irresolute, at a loss to account for his unseasonable visit. It was uncomfortable, and for the first time Gerald began to get impatient at this succession of small rebuffs, individually of no-moment, but, all together, sufficient to lower the temperature of his eager hopes and anticipations. A sort of reaction began to set in; for a minute or two he felt inclined not to reply to the servant's inquiry as to whether he wished to see her master, but to turn away and walk home again through the rain--to Martha's disgust, no doubt,--and never let Frank know he had obeyed his injunctions. Then he laughed at himself for even momentarily contemplating conduct which, had he been a boy again, and Dorothy there to give her opinion, she would certainly have described as "taking the pet," and mustering his good spirits afresh, he inquired if Mr Frank Thurston were not dining with Mr Laurence. "Mr Thurston is here to-night--Mr Thurston the clergyman," replied the young woman, with more alacrity, imagining evidently that this call was on Frank _ex officio_. "He is still in the dining-room with the other gentlemen; but if it is anything very particular, I can tell him he is wanted at once; or if not, perhaps you will wait a few minutes till he leaves the dining-room." "Yes, that will be better. Do not disturb him till they come out. I am Mr Fra--Mr Thurston's brother," whereupon the damsel became all eagerness and civility--she was young and nice-looking, in no wise resembling the forbidding-looking Martha; "but I would rather you did not say who I am; just tell him he is wanted when he comes out. Where can I wait? In here?" She opened the door of the school-room. "Ah, yes, that will do."