ett--everything threatened disaster.

"What will you do?" Garrett had no desire that the responsibility
should be shifted in his direction; he feared responsibility as the
rock on which the ship of his carefully preserved proprieties might
come to wreck.

"Do? Why, speak--it must be done. Think of him during the whole time
that he has been here--not only to Pendragon, but to us. He has made
no attempt whatever to fit in with our ways or thoughts; he has shown
no desire to understand any of us; and now he must be pulled up, for
his own sake as well as ours."

But Garrett offered her little assistance. He had no proposals to
offer, and was barren of all definite efforts; he hated definite lines
of any kind, but he promised to fall in with her plans.

"I will come down to breakfast," she said, "and will speak to him
afterwards."

Garrett nodded wearily and went back to his work. On the next morning
the crisis came.

Breakfast was a silent meal at all times. Harry had learnt to avoid
the cheerful familiarity of his first morning--it would not do. But
the heavy solemnity of the massive silver teapot, the ham and cold game
on the sideboard, the racks of toast that were so needlessly numerous,
drove him into himself, and, like his brother and son, he disappeared
behind folds of newspaper until the meal was over.

Clare frequently came down to breakfast, and therefore he saw nothing
unusual in her appearance. The meal was quite silent; Clare had her
letters--and he was about to rise and leave the room, when she spoke.

"Wait a minute, Harry. I want to say something. No, Robin, don't
go--what I'm going to say concerns us all."

Garrett remained behind his newspaper, which showed that he had
received previous warning. Robin looked up in surprise, and then
quickly at his father, who had moved to the fireplace.

"About me, Clare?" He tried to speak calmly, but his voice shook a
little. He saw that it was a premeditated attack, but he wished that
Robin hadn't been there. He was, on the whole, glad that the moment
had come; the last week had been almost unbearable, and the situation
was bound to arrive at a crisis--well, here it was, but he wished that
Robin were not there. As he looked at the boy for a moment his face
was white and his breath came sharply. He had never loved him quite so
passionately as at that moment when he seemed about to lose him.

Clare had chosen her time and her audience well, an