No more was said just then. We got through the day comfortably enough. I amused myself, as one can always do on a wet day when away from one's people, by writing a long letter home; Moore entertaining himself, so far as I saw him during the morning, with a wonderful "find" in the shape of a collection of old bound volumes of _Punch_--dating back years before their present reader had honoured the world by his presence. I overheard him chuckling quietly to himself now and then, as he sat in his corner, and the sound was pleasant to my ears for more reasons than one. I was glad that he was not feeling bored, and I was relieved to think that the suppressed excitement which I had begun to suspect his manner had no existence except in my fancy. "I don't believe," I said to myself with satisfaction, "I don't _think_ there can be anything brewing in his brain," and in this comfortable state of mind I passed the greater part of the day, reassuring myself now and then by taking a peep at the boy whenever I lost sight of him for many minutes at a time. We had tea together, of course, very comfortably in the library, which we had chosen in preference to the drawing-room during our _tete-a-tete_ days, and Moore did full justice to the cakes which Isabel before she left home had taken care to order in profusion for his, or our, delectation. The second post came in about five o'clock at Millflowers, and the outgoing post left at six. To-day brought an unexpected letter from mother, from whom I had already heard that very morning. This necessitated an addition to what I had previously written, as it concerned a matter of some little importance. "I shall only just have time," I reflected, "to answer what mother asks before the bag goes," and for a moment or two I sat thinking over what I had to say, rather absorbed in it. Moore meanwhile had strolled to the window, and stood there looking out; the post had brought nothing for him. "It has cleared up," he remarked, "to some extent at least, but it doesn't look tempting. What do you say about going out, Reggie?" I looked up doubtfully. "I don't think I can," I replied; "by the time I have finished my letter it will be too late, and it looks misty and disagreeable enough already. I don't think you should go out either, Moore. It is just the sort of evening to catch cold in." I spoke without misgiving, for my thoughts were running on my letters. Moore did not at once reply. "I'll see about it," he said; "anyway I shan't go far, and I won't catch cold." "Be sure you are in by six," I called back to him as I left the room. And till close upon that hour my letters engrossed me, and when I had seen them safely despatched, and returned to the library, I scarcely gave a thought to anything else, till the timepiece striking the quarter past, made me begin to expect to hear Moore's footsteps every moment. But the clock's ticking went on to the half-hour without his coming.