at all be in need of it. It did not seem possible to him that a
father could feel indifferent to the opinion of his child. And perhaps
he was right, and Caspar Brooke not quite so indifferent as he seemed.

It must be the girl's fault, Maurice thought to himself. Could nothing
be done? Could he set Ethel to talk to her? But no: Ethel was not
serious enough in her appreciation of Caspar Brooke. Mrs. Romaine? She
would praise Mr. Brooke, no doubt; but Kenyon had a troubled doubt of
Mrs. Romaine's motives.

Doctor Sophy? Well, he liked Doctor Sophy immensely, especially since
she had given up her practice: he liked her because she was so frank, so
sensible, so practical in her dealings. But she was not a very
sympathetic sort of person: not the kind of person, he acknowledged to
himself, who would be likely to inspire a young girl with enthusiasm for
another.

If there was nobody else to perform a needed office, it was your plain
duty to perform it yourself. That had been Maurice Kenyon's motto for
many years. It recurred to him now with rather disagreeable force.

Why, of course, _he_ could not go and tell Brooke's daughter that she
was a frivolous fool! What was his conscience driving at, he wondered.
How could he, who did not know her in the least, commit such an act of
impertinence as tell her how much he disapproved of her? It would be the
act of a prig, not of a gentleman.

Of course he could not do it. And then he began at the beginning again,
and condoled with Brooke in his own heart, and vituperated Brooke's
daughter, and wondered whether she was really incapable of being
reclaimed to the paths of filial reverence, and whether he ought not to
make an attempt in his friend's favor. All of which proves that if any
man deserved the name of a Don Quixote, that man was Maurice Kenyon,
M.R.C.S.

Ethel unconsciously gave him the chance he secretly desired. He wanted
above all things to make Lesley's acquaintance, and to talk to her--for
her good--about her father. And one afternoon his sister begged him, as
a great favor to her; to go over to Mr. Brooke's house with a message
and a parcel for Lesley. He had been introduced to her one day in the
street, therefore there could be nothing strange in his going in and
asking for her, Ethel said. And would he please go about four o'clock,
so as to catch Miss Lesley Brooke at afternoon tea.

Maurice told himself that it would be an impertinent thing to speak to
her abou