Over the tea-cups--for Mr. and Mrs. Winton had now come in, and all were seated at the table--Henry began to feel more at home among the family, and Mr. Winton proved to be a quiet, homely person, though Henry noticed that Edgar lost to some extent his high spirits when his father came on the scene. Evidently the Wintons were people "in reduced circumstances," for both the father and mother showed signs of superior breeding. "I hope you will get on all right at the _Guardian_," Mr. Winton remarked. "You won't be short of work, if Edgar is a sample. He's always slogging away at something. If it's not the police courts, it's a political meeting, or a--" "Tea-fight, dad." "Slang again, Eddie," put in Flo. "Yes. Edgar delights in these flippancies; his trade seems to induce that," said Mrs. Winton. "Will you pass your cup, Mr. Charles?" As Henry handed his cup to Flo, almost dropping it in the excitement of being dubbed "Mister," Edgar took up his mother's words, and exclaimed, with simulated indignation: "Trade! Who calls it a trade? Remember, mater, that journalism is a profession--the Fourth Estate!" "There's not much profession about attending inquests on suicides, and writing about the drunks and disorderlies," Flo remarked, fearless of her brother's displeasure. "Come, come now," interposed Mr. Winton, who had not spoken since Edgar broke in upon his remarks. "You mustn't give our young friend too low an opinion of his new business," and turning to Henry, he remarked: "It is your first appointment, is it not?" "Yes, I have only done some odds and ends for the _Guardian_ when at Stratford. Of course, I'm hoping to do some good work here, but we must do the small things before we are able to do the great ones, I think." A long speech for Henry to make before company, and not performed without an effort. "True, indeed, for only those who can do the little things well can do the great things well," was Mr. Winton's comment. "And I was only joking," added Flo, looking archly at Henry, whose eyes immediately contemplated the lessening liquid in his cup. "Journalism is all very well, I'm sure, but newspaper fellows are so conceited that I think we need to take some of the side off them." "Who's talking slang now?" from Edgar. "Well, it may be slangy, but it's true; and I hope Mr. Charles won't fall into the habit of talking as if, because a man writes paragraphs in a printed paper, he knows more than Solomon." "I'm afraid I know very little, Miss Winton. I'm here to learn." Oh, Henry was becoming quite a tea-table success. "And I'm sure we hope you will find your new work up to your expectations. I have never met Mr. Springthorpe myself," said Mr. Winton, as he rose and retired to the living-room, which was half-kitchen, to smoke his evening pipe, while Flo helped her mother to clear away the tea-things and restore the dusty immortelles to their place of honour.