This, be it clearly understood, was an imaginary conversation. It did not take place for the excellent reason that Mrs. Sandford was in the drawing-room, smiling at the witticisms of her young ones, and saying at intervals, “Come, come, Lizzie!” and “Don’t be so satirical, Jack.” They were not nearly such good company as her husband, nor did they want her half so much, but she thought they did, and that it was her duty to be there. So Mr. Sandford, who did not think of it at all as a grievance, but only as a natural necessity, had nothing but an imaginary talk which did not relieve him much, and went out for his walk by himself. It would be foolish to date absolutely from that day a slight change that began to work in him--but it did come on about this time: and that was an anxiety that the boys should get on and begin their life’s work in earnest which had not affected him before. He had been too busy to think much except about his work so long as the young ones were well; and the period at which the young ones become men and women is not always easy for a father to discern so long as they are all under his roof as in their childish days. He, too, had let things flow along in the well-being of the time without pausing to inquire how long it was to last, or what was to come of it. A man of sixty who is in perfectly good health does not feel himself to be old, nor think it necessary to consider the approaching end of his career. Something, however, aroused him now about these boys. He got a little irritable when he saw Harry about, playing tennis with the girls, sometimes spending the whole day in flannels. “Why can’t he do something?” he said to his wife. “Dear Edward,” said Mrs. Sandford, “what can the poor boy do? He is only too anxious to do something. He is always talking to me about it. If only Lord Okeham or some one would get a post for him. Is there no one you can speak to about poor Harry?” This was turning the tables upon Harry’s father, who, to tell the truth, was very slow to ask favours, and did not like it all. He did speak, however--not to Lord Okeham, but to an inferior potentate, and was told that all the lists were full, although everybody would be delighted, of course, to serve him if possible; and nothing came of that. Then there was Jack. The young man came into dinner one day in the highest spirits. He had got a brief--a real brief--a curiosity which he regarded with a jocular admiration. “I shall be a rich man in no time,” he said. “How much is your fee?” asked one of the girls. “You must take us somewhere with it Jack.” “It is two guineas,” Jack said, and then there was a general burst of laughter--that laughter young and fresh which is sweet to the ears of fathers and mothers.