g left alone at meals.'

The two boys were at the room door, when Aubrey heard a step, felt the
fustiness enlivened by the odour of a cigar, and saw a figure at the
top of the stairs.

'I say, Ward,' observed Mr. Sam, in a rude domineering voice,
'Spelman's account must be all looked over to-night; he says that there
is a blunder. D'ye hear?'

'Very well.'

'Who have you got there?'

'It is Aubrey May.'

'Oh! good morning to you,' making a kind of salutation; 'have you been
looking at the water? We've got some fine fish there, if you like to
throw a line any day.--Well, that account must be done to-night, and if
you can't find the error, you'll only have to do it over again.'

Leonard's colour had risen a good deal, but he said nothing, and his
cousin ran down-stairs and drove off in his dog-cart.

'Is it much of a business?' said Aubrey, feeling extremely indignant.

'Look here,' said Leonard, leading the way down-stairs and into the
office, where he pointed to two huge account books. 'Every page in
that one must I turn over this blessed night; and if he had only told
me three hours ago, I could have done the chief of it, instead of
kicking my heels all the afternoon.'

'Has he any right to order you about, out of office hours, and without
a civil word either? Why do you stand it?'

'Because I can stand anything better than being returned on Henry's
hands,' said Leonard, 'and he has spite enough for that. The thing
must be done, and if he won't do it, I must, that's all. Come along.'

As they went out the unwieldy figure of the elder Mr. Axworthy was
seen, leaning out of his open window, smoking a clay pipe. He spoke in
a much more friendly tone, as he said, 'Going out, eh? Mind the
dinner-time.'

'Yes, sir,' said Leonard, coming nearer, 'I'm not going far.'

'Who have you got there?' was again asked.

'One of the young Mays, sir. I was going to walk part of the way back.'

Aubrey thought the grunt not very civil; and as the boys and Mab passed
under the gateway, Leonard continued, 'There's not much love lost
between him and your father; he hates the very name.'

'I should expect he would,' said Aubrey, as if his hatred were an
honour.

'I fancy there's some old grievance,' said Leonard, 'where he was wrong
of course. Not that that need hinder your coming over, Aubrey; I've a
right to my own friends, but--'

'And so have I to mine,' said Aubrey eagerly.

'But you see,' added Leonard,