Here there was an interruption that startled these old conspirators. Little Jocky, who had been lying as still as a mouse at their feet, with no movement except that of turning a leaf of his book, now began to stir. They had forgotten his very existence, as they often did. He had not been paying much attention to them, but probably he had heard other sounds more interesting to him, which they, on the other hand, had taken no notice of. At this stage he suddenly jumped up on his feet like a little acrobat, startling them greatly. He was not at all unlike an acrobat, with his long, slim, pliable limbs, and his faded suit of blue velveteen, a little short in the arms, and white in the seams. He got up with a bound, like a thing on springs, immediately under Mr. Ford’s nose, who was much discomfited by the sudden movement. It was a thing that had happened before, but Mr. Ford had confessed that it was not a thing to which he could accustom himself. He was not used to children, and he was nervous; little Jock’s jump made him jump too. “What is it? What is the matter?” he cried. But just then the door softly opened behind the screen, and a soft voice said, “I have come home, papa, I have come to take Jock for his walk. Do you want anything?” “Not that I know of, my dear, not that I know of; except yourself, and I shall have you by and by,” said the old man, his countenance expanding. She was not visible behind the high screen, but her voice seemed to throw a new element, something of softness and comfort into the air. “At tea, papa. Come, Jock,” said the voice; and the little fellow was gone almost before the words were said. The two old men sat quite silent, and listened to the steps going down the stairs. It was not an unusual incident, but it is scarcely possible not to feel an uneasy sensation when you have been discussing, much more deciding, the fate of another, and suddenly that other looks in and interrupts your secret combinations by the sound of an innocent and affectionate voice. Such unconsciousness is more trying to a conspirator than any suspicion of his motives. Even when it is a private consultation between a father and mother on the expediency of sending a child to school, with what compunctions the sudden appearance of the unconscious victim overwhelms them! Old Trevor himself was moved by it, though he was not a likely subject for penitence. “She hasn’t much notion what we’re settling,” he said. “Poor little Lucy! I wonder if it’s a good thing for a bit of a girl to have such a fate before her. But it is a fine position--a fine position; not many have such a chance, and I hope I’ve bred her up to understand what it is.”