For a day or two all went well at Clapham. The old gentleman was in the best of tempers, and the two young men did their best to keep him in it, indorsing all his views as to the lax morality and disgraceful tone which pervaded modern literature and modern society; and when they had done their duty in this way they rewarded themselves by going in next door and having tea with Dora Chatterton, a young lady whom they both thought charming. Indeed, Adrian thought her so charming that, after a short acquaintance, he sent her a copy of "To Lalage"--with the author's kind regards. Now, Miss Dora Chatterton adored genius. She had thought both Adrian and Peter very pleasant young men; she had perceived that they both thought her a very pleasant young woman; and she had been rather puzzled to know which of them she would, in a certain event, make up her mind to prefer. "To Lalage" settled the question. It was the gifted author, A. P., who deserved her love; and A. P. obviously stood, not for Peter Allison, but for Adrian Pottles. The very next morning she called early at Mr. Pottles'. She found him alone; the boys, he explained, had gone for a walk. Dora was disappointed; but, failing the author himself, she was content to pour her praises into the ears of an appreciative and proud uncle. She did so, expressing immense admiration for Adrian's modesty in not having told Mr. Pottles of his achievement. "Humph!" said Mr. Pottles. "Let me see these--er--things." The effect of "To Lalage" on Mr. Pottles was surprising, and particularly so to Dora. In less than ten minutes she found herself being shown the door, and intrusted with a letter to her mother in which Mr. Pottles stated that she had been reading wicked books, and ought, in his opinion, to be sent to her own room for an indefinite period. "And I shall know if you don't give it her," said Mr. Pottles viciously. Thus it happened that Adrian and Peter, as they were returning, met poor Dora on the steps with this horrid note in one hand and her pocket-handkerchief in the other--for Mrs. Chatterton shared Mr. Pottles' views, and Dora did not enjoy having to deliver the note. They were just hastening up to speak to her, when Mr. Pottles himself appeared on the steps, holding out "To Lalage" in his hand. Adrian grasped the situation. "For Heaven's sake, Peter," he whispered, "say you wrote the beastly thing; I'm ruined if you don't." "Eh? But he'll kick me out." "I'll stand a pony." "_Two_," said Peter firmly. "Well, two; but be quick." Then Peter spoke up like a man, and accepted the blame of "To Lalage." "But your initials aren't A. P.," objected Mr. Pottles. "To avoid suspicion, I reversed the order; mine are P. A." "James," said Mr. Pottles to the footman, "pack Mr. Allison's bag." But Dora gave Peter the kindest and most admiring glance as she murmured softly to Adrian, "They're lovely! Oh, don't you wish you could write verses, Mr. Pottles?"