Two or three weeks had passed in this way when one evening Mr. Sandford received a letter from Daniells, the dealer, inviting him to join a party on the Yorkshire moors. Daniells was well enough off to be able to deny himself nothing. He was not a gentleman, yet the sports that gentlemen love were within reach of his wealth, and gentlemen not so well off as he showed much willingness to share in his good things. Some fine people whose names it was a pleasure to read were on his list, and some painters who were celebrated enough to eclipse the fine people. That all these should be gathered together by a man who was as ignorant as a pig, and not much better bred, was wonderful; but so it was. Perhaps the fact that Daniells was really at heart a good fellow had something to do with it: but even had this not been the case, it is probable that he could still have found guests to shoot on his moor, and eat the birds they had shot. Mr. Sandford was no sportsman, and at first he had little inclination to accept. It was his wife who urged him to do so. “You are not enjoying Broadbeach as you usually do,” she said; “you are bored by it. Oh, don’t tell me, Edward, I can see it in your eyes.” “If you think so, my dear, no denial of mine----” “No,” she said, shaking her head; “nothing you say will change my opinion. I am dreadfully sorry, for I am fond of the place; but I have made up my mind already never to come here again: for you are bored--it is as plain as possible: you want a change: you must go.” “It is not much of a change to visit Daniells,” said Mr. Sandford. “Oh, it isn’t Daniells; it’s the company, and the distance, and all you will find there. I have no objection to Mr. Daniells, Edward.” “Nor I; he is a good fellow in spite of his ’h’s.’” “I don’t care about his ’h’s.’ He’s very hospitable and very friendly, and all the nice people go to him. I saw in the papers that Lord Okeham was there. You might be able to speak a word for Harry.” Mr. Sandford smiled. “I am to go, then, as a business speculation,” he said; but his smile faded away very soon, for he reflected that Lord Okeham was the first to give him that sensation of being wanted no longer, of having nobody to employ him, which had risen to such a tragic height since then. “Don’t laugh,” said his wife. “I do think indeed it is your duty--anything that may help on the children; and you do like Mr. Daniells, Edward.” “Yes, I do like Daniells; he is a very good fellow.” “And the change will do you good. You must go.”