“Like him? No, _that_ I don’t! That’s the gospel truth. But there is Dick, so good-night, or rather good-morning, my dear,” said Mrs. Hammond, kissing her cousin on the brow and then leaving the room. “Oh, if I could believe as Anna suggests, how quickly, how gladly I would set all my Alick’s doubts at rest. But ah! it is not so. He has ceased to love me. I am sure of it now—sure of it!” She struggled to keep back her tears, so as not to distress her child, who was still sitting on her lap and watching her countenance with eyes full of anxious sympathy. As soon as Anna had left her, Drusilla rang for Pina, and with her maid’s assistance changed her splendid evening dress for a cool white wrapper. Then, before lying down, she superintended little Lenny’s morning bath and toilet, and saw him eat his simple breakfast and sent him out with his nurse for a walk. Then at last she lay down to take an hour’s rest, if not sleep, before joining the family at the late breakfast. Meanwhile Anna hurried off to her own room. Anna was weary and drowsy, and with no heavy cares on her mind, was only anxious to find her pillow and go to sleep. But to rest was not to be Anna’s good fortune that morning. She found Dick just come home, looking so haggard and harassed that his aspect terrified her into the suspicion that her “unlucky dog” had been so unfortunate as to meet with some of his friends. “Dick! in the name of Heaven, what is the matter?” she exclaimed. “Matter? Nothing,” answered Mr. Hammond, telling unscrupulously, and almost unconsciously, the regulation lie in such cases made and provided. “Dick! when a man says there is nothing the matter, with such a look as that on his face, it is a sign there is so much the matter that he dares not confess it. Now, Dick, I will know,” she said, going to him, laying her hands upon his shoulders and gazing steadfastly into his face. “Well, Anna, what do you see?” he inquired, a little sadly, as he met her eyes. “I see that you are quite sober, at least, poor soul; but oh, Dick! you unfortunate fellow, where have you been since we left you!” “About town, Anna.” “About town! Oh, yes, exactly! About town! I know too well what that means. Oh, Dick! Dick! we ought never to bring you within sight of a town! We ought to keep you in the woods all the time. Now make a clean breast of it, Dick. Whom have you been with?” “I happened to meet with an old friend down town,” answered Dick, solemnly and a little maliciously. “An old friend down town! Oh, precisely! I know what _that_ means also! Dick! Dick! that proverb, ‘Save me from my friends,’ must have been written for you. Now out with it at once! How much has your friend, or set of friends, robbed you of this time?” “Robbed me of, Anna?” “Yes! robbed you of! You know what I mean. How much have you lost? A thousand pounds—ten thousand?” “Anna, you think I have been gambling?” “What else can I think, Dick? It breaks my heart to think it, though.”