“Stimulants,” he whispered to the frightened nurserymaid, who approached; “good-evening.” He was gone. CHAPTER IV The breach between young Little and Mr. Raby was slowly widening. Little found objectionable features in the Hall. “This black oak ceiling and wainscoting is not as healthful as plaster; besides, it absorbs the light. The bedroom ceiling is too low; the Elizabethan architects knew nothing of ventilation. The color of that oak paneling which you admire is due to an excess of carbon and the exuvia from the pores of your skin”— “Leave the house,” bellowed Raby, “before the roof falls on your sacrilegious head!” As Little left the house, Lady Caroline and a handsome boy of about Little’s age entered. Lady Caroline recoiled, and then—blushed. Little glared; he instinctively felt the presence of a rival. CHAPTER V Little worked hard. He studied night and day. In five years he became a lecturer, then a professor. He soared as high as the clouds, he dipped as low as the cellars of the London poor. He analyzed the London fog, and found it two parts smoke, one disease, one unmentionable abominations. He published a pamphlet, which was violently attacked. Then he knew he had done something. But he had not forgotten Caroline. He was walking one day in the Zoological Gardens, and he came upon a pretty picture,—flesh and blood, too. Lady Caroline feeding buns to the bears! An exquisite thrill passed through his veins. She turned her sweet face and their eyes met. They recollected their first meeting seven years before, but it was his turn to be shy and timid. Wonderful power of age and sex! She met him with perfect self-possession. “Well meant, but indigestible, I fear” (he alluded to the buns). “A clever person like yourself can easily correct that” (she, the slyboots, was thinking of something else). In a few moments they were chatting gayly. Little eagerly descanted upon the different animals; she listened with delicious interest. An hour glided delightfully away. After this sunshine, clouds. To them suddenly entered Mr. Raby and a handsome young man. The gentlemen bowed stiffly and looked vicious—as they felt. The lady of this quartette smiled amiably—as she did not feel. “Looking at your ancestors, I suppose,” said Mr. Raby, pointing to the monkeys; “we will not disturb you. Come.” And he led Caroline away. Little was heart-sick. He dared not follow them. But an hour later he saw something which filled his heart with bliss unspeakable. Lady Caroline, with a divine smile on her face, feeding the monkeys! CHAPTER VI