While they were still engaged in admiring the lovely bloom of the Grammatophyllum, Mr. Cardus saw Mr. de Talor come into his office, which, it may be remembered, was connected with the orchid blooming-house by a glass door. Ernest was much interested in observing the curious change that this man’s appearance produced in his uncle. As a peaceful cat, dozing on a warm stone in summer, becomes suddenly changed into a thing of bristling wickedness and fury by the vision of the most inoffensive dog, so did the placid, bald-headed old gentleman, glowing with innocent pleasure at his horticultural masterpiece, commence to glow with very different emotions at the sight of the pompous De Talor. The ruling passion of his life asserted its sway in a moment, and his whole face changed; the upper lip began to quiver, the roving eyes glittered with a dangerous light; and then a mask seemed to gather over the features, which grew hard and almost inscrutable. It was an interesting transformation. Although they could see De Talor, he could not see them; so for a minute they enjoyed an undisturbed period of observation. The visitor walked round the room, and, casting a look of contempt at the flowers in the blooming-house, stopped at Mr. Cardus’s desk, and glanced at the papers lying on it. Finding apparently nothing to interest him he retired to the window, and, putting his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, amused himself by staring out of it. There was something so intensely vulgar and insolent in his appearance as he stood thus, that Ernest could not help laughing. “Ah!” said Mr. Cardus, with a look of suppressed malignity, half to himself and half to Ernest, “I have really got a hold of you at last, and you may look out, my friend.” Then he went in, and as he left the blooming-house Ernest heard him greet his visitor in that suave manner, with just a touch of deference in it, that he knew so well how to assume, and De Talor’s reply of “’Ow do, Cardus? ’ow’s the business getting on?” Outside the glass-houses Ernest found Jeremy waiting for him. It had for years been an understood thing that the latter was not to enter them. There was no particular reason why he should not; it was merely one of those signs of Mr. Cardus’s disfavour that caused Jeremy’s pride such bitter injury. “What are you going to do, old fellow?” he asked of Ernest. “Well, I want to go down and see Florence Ceswick, but I suppose you won’t care to come.” “O yes, I’ll come.” “The deuce you will! well, I never! I say, Doll,” he sang out to that young lady as she appeared upon the scene, “what has happened to Jeremy—he’s coming out calling?” “I fancy he’s got an attraction,” said Miss Dorothy. “I say, old fellow, you haven’t been cutting me out with Florence, have you?” “I am sure it would be no great loss if he had,” put in Dorothy, with an impatient little stamp of the foot. “You be quiet, Doll. I’m very fond of Florence, she’s so clever, and nice-looking, too.”