Mildred whispered: "Oh, Hugh, be careful. I'll do anything for you if you won't get him worked up. It'll hurt his face--and his poor eye." Hugh slouched--the word is Mrs. Rossiter's--to a nearby chair, where he sat down in a hunched position, his hands in his trousers pockets and his feet thrust out before him. The attitude was neither graceful nor respectful to the company. "It's no use talking, father," he declared, sulkily, "because I've said my last word." "Oh no, you haven't, for I haven't said my first." In the tone in which Hugh cried out there must have been something of the plea of a little boy before he is punished: "Please don't give me any orders, father, because I sha'n't be able to obey them." "Hugh, your expression 'sha'n't be able to obey' is not in the vocabulary with which I'm familiar." "But it's in the one with which I am." "Then you've probably learnt it from Ethel's little servant--I've forgotten the name--" Hugh spoke with spirit. "She's not a servant; and her name is Alexandra Adare. Please, dad, try to fix it in your memory. You'll find you'll have a lot of use for it." "Don't be impertinent." "I'm not impertinent. I'm stating a fact. I ask every one here to remember that name--" "We needn't bring any one else into this foolish business. It's between you and me. Even so, I wish to have no argument." "Nor I." "Then in that case we understand each other. You'll be with the Goldboroughs for the twelfth--" Hugh spoke very distinctly: "Father--I'm--not--going." In the silence that followed one could hear the ticking of the mantelpiece clock. "Then may I ask where you are going?" Hugh raised himself from his sprawling attitude, holding his bulky young figure erect. "I'm going to earn a living." Some one, perhaps old Mrs. Billing, laughed. The father continued to speak with great if dangerous courtesy. "Ah? Indeed! That's interesting. And may I ask at what?" "At what I can find." "That's more interesting still. Earning a living in New York is like the proverbial looking for the needle in the haystack. The needle is there, but it takes--" "Very good eyesight to detect it. All right, dad. I shall be on the job." "Good! And when do you propose to begin?" It had not been Hugh's intention to begin at any time in particular, but, thus challenged, he said, boldly, "To-morrow." "That's excellent. But why put it off so long? I should think you'd start out--to-night." Mrs. Billing's "Ha-a!" subdued and prolonged, was like that tense exclamation which the spectators utter at some exiting moment of a game. It took no sides, but it did justice to a sporting situation. As Hugh told me the story on the following day he confessed that more than any other occurrence it put the next move "up to him." According to Ethel Rossiter he lumbered heavily to his feet and crossed the room toward his father. He began to speak as he neared the architectural chimneypiece, merely throwing the words at J. Howard as he passed.