He set about his plans. On the morning when but a week remained to the end of the term--the date he had fixed in his mind--he wrote before he came down to breakfast a letter to his agent in London. "DEAR LESSINGHAM, "I'm still alive! I've been wandering--getting back my health. I was rather run down. Now, very soon, I hope to get to work again. Keep it to yourself that you've heard of me again. I'll be seeing you soon. Meanwhile, you've got a pile of money for me, haven't you? I want you, please, to send me at once £200 in £10 notes to this address. I'm going abroad for a bit. "Yours ever, "PHILIP WRIFORD." Funny to be in touch with that world again! He put the letter in his pocket. He would post it on his way to school. Imagine Essie's eyes when she saw all that wealth! He could hear her cry--he imagined himself showing it to her in a first-class carriage bound for London--"Oh, Arthur! Did you ever, though!" Smiling upon that thought, he went down-stairs to the parlour; and it was thus, at the very moment as it were of first putting out his hand to take Essie, that scruples came. He found Mrs. Bickers seated alone. There were sounds of Essie gaily humming as she prepared breakfast in the kitchen. Mrs. Bickers, busily sewing, looked up and smiled at him. "Good morning, Arthur. I declare I do like to see you come down of a morning smiling like that. Busy, aren't I? So early, too!" and she held up what looked to be a blouse that she was making, and told him: "That's for our Essie!" The smile went from his face and from his thoughts. "Our Essie!" Only now that phrase, and what it meant, entered his calculations on his purpose; and with it the thought of his smiles which Mrs. Bickers had been so glad to see--and what they meant. He desired to turn the conversation; yet even as he made answer he knew his words were leading him deeper into it. "Why, you're not surprised to see me smiling, are you, Mrs. Bickers?" he said. "This is what I call a very smiling house, you know." Mrs. Bickers set down her work on her lap and smiled anew. "Well, that's good news," she said. "Ah, and it's not always been either, Arthur." "Hasn't it, Mrs. Bickers?" "Oh, dear, it hasn't! Why, Mr. Bickers and me we had a heap of trouble one time." "But you're very happy now?" "I've been happy," said Mrs. Bickers, smiling again, "eighteen years and three--four--eighteen years and four months." "That means ever since something?" "Ever since our Essie came," said Mrs. Bickers softly. Our Essie! Ah! He said dully: "Yes, you must be fond of Essie?"