The young man was by this time a sapling well fed from the old tree. Taller than his father by many inches, broader, heavier, and larger in all ways, with the slow eyes of a seal and something of a seal's face as well. But with his father's sprawling legs and his father's levity and irony of manner and of voice--a Manxman disguised out of all recognition of race, and apeing the fashionable follies of the hour in London. Auntie Nan settled her umbrella, smoothed her gloves and her white front hair, and inquired meekly if he was well. “Not very fit,” he drawled; “shouldn't be here if I were. But father worried my life out until I came back to recruit.” “Perhaps,” said Auntie Nan, looking simple and sympathetic, “perhaps you've been longing for home. It must be a great trial to a young man to live in London for the first time. That's where a young woman has the advantage--she needn't leave home, at all events. Then your lodgings, perhaps they are not in the best part either.” “I used to have chambers in an Inn of Court----” Auntie Nan looked concerned. “I don't think I should like Philip to live long at an inn,” she said. “But now I'm in rooms in the Hay market.” Auntie Nan looked relieved. “That must be better,” she said. “Noisy in the mornings, perhaps, but your evenings will be quiet for study, I should think.” “Precisely,” said Boss, with a snigger, touching the piano again, and Philip, sitting near the door, felt the palm of his hand itch for the whole breadth of his cousin's cheek. Uncle Peter came in hurriedly, with short, nervous steps. His hair as well as his eyebrows was now white, his eye was hollow, his cheeks were thin, his mouth was restless, and he had lost some of his upper teeth, he coughed frequently, he was shabbily dressed, and had the look of a dying man. “Ah! it's you, Anne! and Philip, too. Good morning, Philip. Give the piano a rest, Ross--that's a good lad. Well, Miss Christian, well!” “Philip came of age yesterday, Peter,” said Auntie Nan in a timid voice. “Indeed!” said the Ballawhaine, “then Ross is twenty next month. A little more than a year and a month between them.” He scrutinised the old lady's face for a moment without speaking, and then said, “Well?” “He would like to go to London to study for the bar,” faltered Auntie Nan. “Why not the church at home?” “The church would have been my own choice, Peter, but his father----” The Ballawhaine crossed his leg over his knee. “His father was always a man of a high stomach, ma'am,” he said. Then facing towards Philip, “Your idea would be to return to the island.” “Yes,” said Philip. “Practice as an advocate, and push your way to insular preferment?” “My father seemed to wish it, sir,” said Philip. The Ballawhaine turned back to Auntie Nan. “Well, Miss Christian?” Auntie Nan fumbled the handle of her umbrella and began--“We were thinking, Peter--you see we know so little--now if his father had been living----”