ut when they parted at the turning of the
road Bethel laughed. "Now you are one of us, Trojan. We have claimed
you."

As he shook Mary's hand he whispered, "This has been a great evening
for me."

"I was wrong to grumble to you," she answered. "You have worries
enough of your own. I release you from your pledge."

"I will not be released," he said.

That night Clare Trojan, before going to bed, went into Garrett's room.
He was working at his book, and, as usual, hinted that to take such
advantage of his good-nature by her interruption was unfair.

"I suppose to-morrow morning wouldn't do instead, Clare--it's a bit
late."

"No, it wouldn't--I want you to listen to me. It's important."

"Well?" He seated himself in the most comfortable chair and sighed.
"Don't be too long."

She was excited and stood over him as though she would force him to be
interested.

"It's too much, Garrett. It's got to stop."

"What?"

"Harry. Some one must speak to him."

Garrett smiled. "That, of course, will be you, Clare--you always do;
but if it's my permission that you want you may have it and welcome.
But we've discussed all this before. What's the new turn of affairs?"

"No. I want more than your permission; we must take some measures
together. It's no good unless we act at once. Miss Ponsonby told me
this afternoon--it has become common talk--the things he does, I mean.
She did not want to say anything, but I made her. He goes down
continually to some low public-house in the Cove; he is with those
Bethels all day, and will see nothing of any of the decent people in
the place--he is becoming a common byword."

"It is a pity," Garrett said, "that he cannot choose his friends
better."

"He must--something must be done. It is not for ourselves only, though
of course that counts. But it is the House--our name. They laugh at
him, and so at all of us. Besides, there is Robin."

Garrett looked at his sister curiously--he had never seen her so
excited before. But she found it no laughing matter. Miss Ponsonby
would not have spoken unless matters had gone pretty far. The Cove!
The Bethels! Robin's father!

For, after all, it was for Robin that she cared. She felt that she was
fighting his battles, and so subtly concealed from herself that she
was, in reality, fighting her own. She was in a state of miserable
uncertainty. She was not sure of her father, she was not sure of
Robin, scarcely sure of Garr