Lucius arrived home the next afternoon, and brought Dizzy with him for a few days. The point of view from which he had hitherto regarded his father had been so rudely altered by Mr. Binney's behaviour during his first term at Cambridge that Lucius had been unable to face the ordeal of the first few days alone with him in Russell Square. "You know what the governor is, Dizzy," he had said. "It won't be so bad if you are here for a bit, and we can have a good time. I've got _some_ money left, although my allowance has been getting smaller and smaller ever since I came up to Cambridge. We needn't be at home more than we like, and we can go about a bit and see plays." "I should like to come, old man," said Dizzy. "I've got a bit of splosh laid by, too. I'm an economical beggar and I've let my bills stand over till next term. We'll have a rare old time. I suppose your governor won't want to go about with us, will he?" "I shouldn't be surprised," said Lucius. "You can never tell what nonsense he'll be up to now." "Oh, well, we must make the best of it, if he does," said Dizzy cheerfully. "He's not such bad fun if you take him in the right way, and I can always get on with him very well." "He's not your father," said Lucius. Dizzy considerately gave thanks inaudibly. But when they reached Russell Square they found that a change for the better had set in in Mr. Binney's behaviour. The responsibilities of a householder and the head of a large business-house had temporarily settled down on him again. He went to the City every day for an hour or two, and spent a good deal of his spare time in the company of Mrs. Higginbotham, leaving the young men pretty well to their own devices. He had been brought up to regard theatre going as injurious to the morals, and, while he did not attempt to prevent Lucius from enjoying himself in his own way, the remains of an early prejudice prevented his accompanying him. So Dizzy spent a pleasant week with his friend, and as he was always cheery and obliging from morning to night, Mr. Binney was delighted with his company. One evening towards the end of Dizzy's visit there was a little dinner-party in Russell Square. The guests were Mrs. Higginbotham, Dr. Toller, his wife and daughter, and a sprightly middle-aged lady called Miss Tupper, who had been a friend of the late Mrs. Binney, whose place she was generally supposed to be desirous of filling. Mrs. Higginbotham and she were very cordial to one another when they met, but there was a delicate sub-acid flavour about their conversation which hardly seemed in accord with the indelible sweetness of their respective smiles. Mr. Binney sat at the head of the table with Mrs. Toller on his right, and Mrs. Higginbotham on his left, Lucius at the foot, flanked by Miss Tupper and Miss Toller. The Reverend Doctor and Dizzy faced one another.