h were as irritating as a personal affront.

John had held to his work in the office, if not with positive
enthusiasm, at least with industry, and thought that he had made some
progress. On the day in question the managing clerk commented briefly
but favorably on something of his which was satisfactory, and, such
experiences being rare, he was conscious of a feeling of mild elation.
He was also cherishing the anticipation of a call at Sixty-ninth Street,
where, for reasons unnecessary to recount, he had not been for a week.
At dinner that night his father seemed more inclined than for a long
time to keep up a conversation which, though of no special import, was
cheerful in comparison with the silence which had grown to be almost the
rule, and the two men sat for a while over the coffee and cigars.
Presently, however, the elder rose from the table, saying pleasantly, "I
suppose you are going out to-night."

"Not if you'd like me to stay in," was the reply. "I have no definite
engagement."

"Oh, no," said Mr. Lenox, "not at all, not at all," and as he passed his
son on the way out of the room he put out his hand and taking John's,
said, "Good night."

As John stood for a moment rather taken aback, he heard his father mount
the stairs to his room. He was puzzled by the unexpected and unusual
occurrence, but finally concluded that his father, realizing how
taciturn they had become of late, wished to resume their former status,
and this view was confirmed to his mind by the fact that they had been
more companionable than usual that evening, albeit that nothing of any
special significance had been said.

As has been stated, a longer interval than usual had elapsed since
John's last visit to Sixty-ninth Street, a fact which had been commented
on by Mr. Carling, but not mentioned between the ladies. When he found
himself at that hospitable house on that evening, he was greeted by Miss
Blake alone.

"Julius did not come down to-night, and my sister is with him," she
said, "so you will have to put up with my society--unless you'd like me
to send up for Alice. Julius is strictly _en retraite_, I should say."

"Don't disturb her, I beg," protested John, laughing, and wondering a
bit at the touch of coquetry in her speech, something unprecedented in
his experience of her, "if you are willing to put up with my society. I
hope Mr. Carling is not ill?"

They seated themselves as she replied: "No, nothing serious, I should
say