"Why, you don't mean that Bransby has the confounded impudence to say----" "No, no," interposed Mrs. Bransby. "Don't let us exaggerate. Theodore has never made any explicit statement on the subject. But he meets May very frequently in society. He is constantly invited by Mrs. Dormer-Smith. They are thrown a great deal together. May has evidently become much more kind and gracious to him of late--for I remember when she used positively to run away from him!--and as for him, he is as much attached to her as he can be to any human being. I do believe that." "Attached your granny!" cried Martin, apparently unable to find a polite phrase strong enough to convey his deep disdain. "Theodore is much attached to number one, and that's about the beginning and the end of _his_ attachments!" "Hush, Martin," said his mother severely. "You are talking of what you don't understand. And you know how much I dislike to hear you use that tone about--your brother." She brought out the word "brother" with an obvious effort. In truth, she had a repugnance to speaking, or even thinking, of Theodore as her children's brother. But it was a repugnance for which she blamed herself. "I think," she added, "that you had better go to bed, Martin." The boy rose with an instant obedience, which had not always characterized him in the happy Oldchester days, and bent over his mother to kiss her. "I'm very sorry. I did not mean to vex you, mother," he whispered. "You're not angry with me, are you?" "I _can't_ be angry with you, my darling boy. But I must do my duty. You know _he_ would say, I was right to correct you." Martin lifted up his face cheerfully, with the happy elasticity of boyish spirits. "All right, mother. Good night. Good night, Mr. Rivers." "Good night, old fellow," responded Owen, grasping the boy's hand heartily. He felt very strongly in sympathy with Martin, just then. Martin lingered. "May I ask just one thing, mother?" he said wistfully. "You know we agreed not to tease Mr. Rivers with our affairs immediately on his arrival, Martin," replied his mother. Then, unable to resist his pleading face, she said, "If it really is only one question, perhaps Mr. Rivers would not mind----?" "What is it you want to know, Martin? Speak out," said Owen. "It's about the question I asked in my letter," replied Martin, blushing and eager. "Don't you think I ought to try and help mother? And don't you think I might have a chance of earning something?" "That's two questions," said Owen, with a smile. "But I'll answer them both. To number one, yes, undoubtedly. To number two, perhaps; but we must have patience."