He had plenty of work on his hands yet that night, and ran all the way home. Dashing into Mrs. Butter's kitchen for a light, a quicker mode than ringing for that esteemed and rather slow landlady to bring it, he dashed against a man who was seated on the kitchen table by fire-light, his legs swaying. No need to wait for recognition this time; it was the young man he had twice seen near the college. "Well?" said the latter, with cool equanimity; "there's room to pass without knocking me over." "Who are you?" exclaimed Mr. Henry; "are you waiting to see Mrs. Butter?" "I have seen her—cross-grained old thing! Her temper does not improve with years." Before anything more passed, or Mr. Henry had in the least formed an idea as to the aspect of affairs, Mrs. Butter came in with Miss Brabazon. The latter had a shawl over her head, and burst out crying as she spoke to the stranger. "Oh, Tom, why have you come here?" "Can I be of any assistance to you, Miss Brabazon?" whispered Mr. Henry, partially comprehending the mystery. "Will you make use of my sitting-room?" "Thank you. It is my brother!" Yes, it was her brother,—the great incubus on Dr. Brabazon's life. In spite of all that had been done to reclaim him; in defiance of education, position, training, Tom Brabazon had turned out a black sheep amidst the doctor's white flock. Dr. Brabazon had paid and paid until he could pay no more; Emma Brabazon never awoke to morning light but a dread crossed her mind of what trouble in regard to him the day might bring forth. It was not only debt; he had done worse things than spend; he had been in prison for three months, and worn the felon's dress, and had his hair cut close; he had been forbidden his father's house; he dared not show himself there or elsewhere in the broad light of day. Mrs. Butter, faithful to the family, knew about it, and she said a word or two of explanation to Mr. Henry as he sat on the other side of her fireplace, while the brother and sister were in his parlour. "He wants to stay here," she resentfully cried, giving her fire a fierce stir, as if she were stirring up the delinquent. "He is obliged to be in hiding again; and he avows it with all the brass in the world. I'd not have gone to Miss Emma with my own will, but he made me. Ah! the aching heart that she and my poor master have had with him, that ill-doing Tom!" Emma came in, her eyes inflamed. "You must let him be in that upper room for a day or two; there's no help for it," she said to Mrs. Butter. "And he must have a bit of supper to-night. I'm going back now, or papa may find out my absence. Of course—you know—his being here must be kept a secret." "I know, Miss Emma," was the wrathful answer; made doubly wrathful because the gentleman had entered. "He up and told me that the first thing."