It was a matter for amusement with Prudence to note the frequency of these private audiences. Hitherto the family had relegated her to the background; now, with an amazing discernment for matters calling for their united supervision, they withdrew from the drawing-room, melting away with such tactful unobtrusiveness that Mr Morgan firmly believed in those numerous domestic obligations which engaged so much of their time, and very willingly submitted to be entertained by the sister whose accident incapacitated her from taking an active share in their doings. On the whole he was well satisfied; and he approved of the doctor's prescription of rest as the only cure for the damaged ankle. "I'll send you some more literature when I get back," he said, sitting facing her in the dusk, with what remained of the daylight falling on his broad strong face. "I expect the sofa will see a good deal of you for a week or so longer. The trouble of these matters is the disproportionately long time they take to mend. On the next occasion when I visit Wortheton I shall hope to see you walking about with the best." "I should hope so," Prudence said, and laughed. "Oh! I don't mean to absent myself for a specially long period," he said, and looked at her with the light of a steady purpose in his eyes. "I'm wanting you to say that you will be glad to see me again. I should have liked to have heard you express some regret at my going now." He paused, but Prudence, who was nervously playing with a flower which he had brought in from the garden for her, did not immediately reply. She was not sure what might follow an expression of regret from her. She did not feel regret; and she had a very definite desire in her mind to avert a direct proposal. "I shall be very pleased to see you when you come again," she said at last. Mr Morgan smiled faintly. "I suppose I shall have to rest content with that," he said. He put out a hand and laid it over her hand--the hand which held the flower. "Do I seem old to you?" he asked. Prudence looked up at him with wide surprised eyes. He was looking back at her with a steady kindly smile that made her nervous. "Not so _very_ old," she answered; and felt her cheeks flaming as she saw the quick colour stain his face. He sighed. "A little fatherly, eh?" he said, the smile returning. And he wondered whether she would ever learn to her distress how cruelly youth can hurt. "Well, I'm not young. I'm forty-two. I want you to accustom yourself to that knowledge before I come again. When I come again I shall have another lesson to teach you." He spoke lightly; and with the lessening of his earnestness and the removal of his hand, both of which Prudence had found embarrassing, she felt relieved and was able to smile back at him with something of the old frankness. "If you teach then as kindly as you have to-day," she said, "I shall prove a dull pupil if I do not learn it readily." "You give me hope," he said.