“Well, Maggie,” said Tom, softening under this appeal, “I don’t want to overstrain matters. I think, all things considered, it will be best for you to see Philip Wakem, if Lucy wishes him to come to the house. I believe what you say,—at least you believe it yourself, I know; I can only warn you. I wish to be as good a brother to you as you will let me.” There was a little tremor in Tom’s voice as he uttered the last words, and Maggie’s ready affection came back with as sudden a glow as when they were children, and bit their cake together as a sacrament of conciliation. She rose and laid her hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Dear Tom, I know you mean to be good. I know you have had a great deal to bear, and have done a great deal. I should like to be a comfort to you, not to vex you. You don’t think I’m altogether naughty, now, do you?” Tom smiled at the eager face; his smiles were very pleasant to see when they did come, for the gray eyes could be tender underneath the frown. “No, Maggie.” “I may turn out better than you expect.” “I hope you will.” “And may I come some day and make tea for you, and see this extremely small wife of Bob’s again?” “Yes; but trot away now, for I’ve no more time to spare,” said Tom, looking at his watch. “Not to give me a kiss?” Tom bent to kiss her cheek, and then said,— “There! Be a good girl. I’ve got a great deal to think of to-day. I’m going to have a long consultation with my uncle Deane this afternoon.” “You’ll come to aunt Glegg’s to-morrow? We’re going all to dine early, that we may go there to tea. You _must_ come; Lucy told me to say so.” “Oh, pooh! I’ve plenty else to do,” said Tom, pulling his bell violently, and bringing down the small bell-rope. “I’m frightened; I shall run away,” said Maggie, making a laughing retreat; while Tom, with masculine philosophy, flung the bell-rope to the farther end of the room; not very far either,—a touch of human experience which I flatter myself will come home to the bosoms of not a few substantial or distinguished men who were once at an early stage of their rise in the world, and were cherishing very large hopes in very small lodgings. Chapter V. Showing That Tom Had Opened the Oyster “And now we’ve settled this Newcastle business, Tom,” said Mr Deane, that same afternoon, as they were seated in the private room at the Bank together, “there’s another matter I want to talk to you about. Since you’re likely to have rather a smoky, unpleasant time of it at Newcastle for the next few weeks, you’ll want a good prospect of some sort to keep up your spirits.” Tom waited less nervously than he had done on a former occasion in this apartment, while his uncle took out his snuff-box and gratified each nostril with deliberate impartiality.