The minute hand touched the half-hour, and the clerks began to distribute the papers. After watching the scene for a moment the Board separated, its members passing out modestly through the house door. They parted on the pavement, even Sir Charles unbending a little and the saturnine Acherley chuckling to himself as visions of fools and fat premiums floated before him. It was a vision which they all shared in their different ways. Arthur was about to join the workers in the bank when Ovington beckoned him into the dining-room. “You can be spared for a moment,” he said. “Come in here. I want to speak to you.” He closed the door. “I’ve been considering the matter I discussed with you some time ago, lad, and I think that the time has come when it should be settled. But you’ve said nothing about it and I’ve been wondering if anything was wrong. If so, you had better tell me.” “Well, sir——” The banker was shrewd. “Is it the money that is the trouble?” The moment that Arthur had been dreading was come, and he braced himself to meet it. “I’m afraid that there has been some difficulty,” he said, “but I think now——” “Have you given your uncle notice?” Arthur hesitated. If he avowed that they had not given his uncle notice, how weak, how inept he would appear in the other’s eyes! A wave of exasperation shook him, as he saw the strait into which his mother’s obstinacy was forcing him. The opportunity which he valued so highly, the opening on which he had staked so much—was he to forfeit them through her folly? No, a hundred times, no! He would not let her ruin him, and, “Yes, we have given it,” he said, “but very late, I’m afraid. My mother had her doubts and I had to overcome them. I’m sorry, sir, that there has been this delay.” “But the notice has been given now?” “Yes.” “Then in three months, as I understand——” “The money will be ready, sir.” He spoke stoutly; the die was cast now, and he must go through with it. After all it was not his fault, but his mother’s; and for the rest, if the notice was not already given it should be this very day. “It will be ready in three months, but not earlier, I am afraid.” Ovington reflected. “Well,” he said, “that must do. And we won’t wait. We will sign the agreement now and it shall take effect from next Monday, the payment to be made within three months. Go through the articles”—he opened his desk and took a paper from it and gave it to Arthur—“and come in with one of the clerks at five o’clock and we will complete it.” Arthur hardly knew what to Bay. “It’s uncommonly kind of you, sir!” he stammered. “You may be sure I shall do my best to repay your kindness.” “Well, I like you,” the banker rejoined. “And, of course, I see my own advantage in it. So that is settled.”