‘Ah! Let me see what he says.’ He opened the note, and his face changed as he saw the handwriting. It had been addressed to Mrs. Mallory, as had probably all other communications on the subject. The hand was small, compact, and characteristic--the matter was business-like. ‘Mr. Blisset presents his compliments to Mrs. Mallory, and begs to inform her that the outside of his house stands in need of some repairs before the winter sets in. If Mrs. Mallory will have the kindness to send her agent, or the work-people she usually employs, to inspect the house, Mr. Blisset will feel extremely obliged to her.’ Sebastian, without comment, handed the note to Hugo, who read it with a smile, and an excited expression, which caused Mrs. Mallory to set him down in her own mind as a lunatic. ‘I will have it seen to!’ was all Sebastian said, carefully putting the document into a small letter-case. ‘I should send Mitchell to make an estimate: he will do it as cheaply as any one,’ observed Mrs. Mallory. ‘Yes, it shall be attended to,’ repeated her son. ‘Now, Hugo, sit down to that piano, and play something--something right lively and soul-stirring, you will understand.’ ‘I think I do,’ said Hugo, smiling in an uncanny manner, as he placed himself at the piano, and straightway burst into a triumphal march. * * * * * Later, when Hugo and Sebastian were alone, the former said, ‘Now you can go and call, Sebastian.’ ‘Heaven forbid! I have not the least right to do so.’ ‘But you would like to. Make a way. Make that note about the repairs an excuse. Call upon Mr. Blisset, and find out what sort of an old party he is.’ Sebastian said nothing, and the subject dropped. The next day, as they sat in Sebastian’s study, and he cut the leaves of a Review, he remarked, ‘I had a conversation with Myles Heywood to-day.’ ‘The revolutionary weaver?’ ‘He is no weaver, ignoramus. He is a sort of head man, but they call him a cut-looker.’ ‘A how much?’ ‘A cut-looker. Your education, like mine, has been neglected. But I know now what a cut-looker is. Myles Heywood is one. He earns forty shillings a week. It exercises the brains and the observation, and they have time for reading and thinking, too. Myles Heywood reads. He has read Buckle’s _History of Civilisation_.’ ‘Indeed!’ said Hugo, sitting with his head on one side, looking like an intelligent dog. ‘That does not raise my opinion of him. It is a book I hate.’ ‘He has read most of the works of John Stuart Mill.’ ‘I’m glad I don’t know him so well as you do.’ ‘Impertinent!’ ‘Can he play Beethoven’s Sonatas, and paint in oils; and does he sing tenor, baritone, or bass?’ ‘Tsh! I tell you I take the greatest interest in the fellow. He knows a lot of German, too. Where he learnt it I can’t tell. When I asked him who taught him he flushed up, looked me straight in the face, and said, “A friend.” So I had to beg his pardon.’