the draught, for the new drawing-room was cold.

Mr Hexton was seated in an easy-chair--at least, he was in the
easy-chair; but it is not fair to say that he was seated, for he was
filling up the chair just as if he had no bones, and making a rather
sonorous noise as he breathed.

It was past one o'clock, and the servants had gone to bed at ten, soon
after which time Mr Hexton had proposed that they should follow, but
Mrs Hexton had declared her intention of sitting up for her son.

"Why, what nonsense!" her husband had said. "Come along to bed."

"You can go, dear," she replied quietly. "I should not be happy if I
did not see him safely back. And, besides, he will want a cup of tea
and a bit of toast."

"And his face washed, and his feet put in warm water, while his mother
brushes his hair, and fusses over him," said Mr Hexton pettishly. "For
goodness' sake, don't go on petting and coddling the boy like that."

Mrs Hexton said nothing--only rose from her chair, and placed the
tea-tray and the caddy ready, for they had been brought in the last
thing by one of the maids. Then she lifted the bright copper kettle out
of the fender and placed it on the hob, where it began to sing a song of
its own composition, and she ended by taking up three pairs of her son's
stockings to darn.

There was not the slightest need for Mrs Hexton to perform such a duty
as this, but she had darned her husband's stockings when they were poor
people, and she could not easily give up her old habits when they were
comparatively rich. And now, as she ran the long, glistening needle in
and out amongst the worsted threads, her husband sat back in his chair
and said it was absurd; but all the same, as he watched her with
half-closed eyes, he thought what a good woman she was, and how happy it
made him to think that she was not in the slightest degree spoiled by
prosperity, while he fervently prayed that she might continue as she was
to the end.

Then, as he sank back lower and lower, thinking how earnestly his son
had set about his task of reforming and improving the matters in the
mine, he began to recall the terrible accidents that had happened at
their pit, and at those in the neighbourhood. It would be a grand
thing, he thought, if Philip, with his fresh and earnest mind and his
knowledge, could do something to lessen the dangers of the pitman's
life; though he rather trembled for the result, knowing as he did how
hard it is to get