Patty tried her best to coax him from these pessimistic moods, but the old boy was not to be persuaded. On fine evenings, when there was nothing better to be done, he had loved greatly, between the quiet old-fashioned tea and the quiet old-fashioned supper, to dress for out of doors, and with Patty on his arm to wander into Regent’s Park, and there inhale the best imitation of country atmosphere that London could afford. He dropped this amiable and affectionate habit, and took to rambling out alone, coming home late, and haggard, and not infrequently, at such times, staring at his daughter with an aspect so sorrowing and wretched that she knew not what to make of him. The girl, watching him with a constantly increasing solicitude, could at last endure this condition of affairs no longer. He came home one night, leaving neither his stick nor hat in the outer hall, and sat down in the dining-room, muffled and great-coated, the picture of dejection. Patty, kneeling before him, removed his hat, smoothed his hair, and began to unbutton his overcoat. ‘Papa!’ she cried suddenly, ‘what _is_ the matter with you? Why are you so changed?’ He breathed a great sigh, and laid his hand upon her head. Then he turned his face away from her--to hide his eyes, she fancied. ‘You are in trouble,’ she went on. ‘It is not kind to keep it from me. Is it anything that I have done, or anything I could do.’ ‘No, no, my darling,’ he said softly, laying his hand upon her head again. ‘Is it money, dear?’ ‘No, no. It isn’t money. Don’t talk about it, my dear. Don’t talk about it.’ ‘Now, papa, you make me think it very grave indeed.’ ‘There,’ he said, rising, ‘you shan’t see any more of it, and we’ll say no more about it Well be gay and bright again, and well hope that things will turn out for the best.’ The attempt to be gay and bright again resulted in most mournful failure, and the girl grew frightened. She had nursed her fears for many days, and had hidden them. ‘Papa!’ she said, trembling ever so little, ‘you must let me know what it is. Let us bear it together, dear. Whatever it may be it can’t matter very much if it leaves us two together--and----’ ‘Ah! ‘said old Brown, looking at her with a pitying smile. ‘Is it anything----?’ She stopped short, and really found no courage to complete the question. ‘My darling,’ he answered, folding her in his arms, and staring sadly over her shoulder. She felt the hands that embraced her quiver, and she knew he had understood her half-expressed query. This frightened her so much that it gave her boldness. ‘There is something the matter with Phil,’ she said, pushing the old man away, and holding him at arm’s length. ‘Tell me what it is.’