Acting upon this resolution, he rang the bell, and requested that the young man should be sent to him. On his appearance, a brilliant idea struck Philip Chater, and he said, airily—“I am going to see Miss Barnshaw. I think I’ll drive.” Harry, whose eyes had been respectfully cast in the direction of the floor, gave a visible start, and looked up in perplexity at his master. “Drive, sir?” he stammered. “What an ass I am!” thought Philip. “She probably lives within sight of this place; and the man will think I’m mad.” Aloud he said—“No-no; what on earth am I thinking about? I mean, I’ll go for a drive—now; and call on Miss Barnshaw this afternoon.” He got up, and crossed the room restlessly; stopped, and spoke to the servant over his shoulder—spoke at a venture. “By the way, Harry—I suppose you’ll be thinking of getting married one of these days—eh?” There was so long a pause, that he looked round in astonishment at the other man. Somewhat to his discomfiture, the servant was gazing frowningly at the carpet, and tracing out the pattern on it with the point of his boot. Looking up at his master, still with that frown upon his face, he said slowly—“Don’t see as it matters, one way or another, Master Dandy, to anybody but myself. I don’t see any likelihood of it at present. What time might you be ready to drive, Master Dandy?” Very wisely, Philip decided to leave the matter alone. It was in his mind—in the earnest desire which filled him to do something to straighten out one of the many tangled things Dandy Chater had left behind him—to say something to this young man, in reference to the love affair at which he only guessed; but so many other matters claimed his attention, and demanded to be straightened out, that he decided to leave the thing alone for the present. Therefore he said, somewhat abruptly—“Very well; I have no wish to interfere. And, after all, I shall not drive.” Harry hesitated for a moment, as though he would have said something more; but finally turned, and left the room. In a few moments he returned, however, and announced— “Miss Vint to see you, sir.” Momentarily wondering whether this might not be some one else who loved him, Philip requested that the lady might be shown in; and there fluttered into the room an elderly lady—small, and thin, and dry-looking; indeed, she gave one the impression, from her appearance, of having lain by unused for a long time, so dusty was her aspect. She had hair of no decided colour, and features of no decided form; and her clothing—even her gloves—were of a neutral tint, as though, from long preservation, whatever of original colour they had possessed had long since faded out of them. But, with something of sprightliness, she came rapidly up to Philip, and seized his hand in both her own. “My dear Mr. Chater—shall I, under the special circumstances, say—my dear Mr. Dandy?——” “My dear lady,” replied Philip, lightly—“say what you will.”