e could see his father was. Neither had any
"news," since, in their exchange of letters, everything had already
been told. Still, they talked a little about the home, and then there
were further details of Archibald's illness. Both perhaps felt the
meeting was a trifle cold, but they knew the constraint would melt
away presently.

"I haven't yet thought how we're going to spend the evening," said the
old man. "We must dine together somewhere. After that we might perhaps
look in at a theatre; it won't matter if we are late."

Morgan, who had no alternative suggestion to offer, readily fell in
with this one, remarking that the dinner for him would be a rather
magnificent kind of supper.

They eventually settled on a restaurant and ordered their repast.
Then, somehow, as they sat facing each other, their tongue-strings
seemed to get loosened.

It was a long time since they had last met, and Archibald, who had
been full of his book then, now confessed he had put it aside for the
present. For several months past his mind had not been in sufficiently
fresh condition to enable him to work on it. Morgan remembered now
how he had suggested a title for it half in scorn, and even such small
remembrance was painful to him. He felt he had had something very like
contempt for his father's literary scheme, forgetting, in the
self-castigation of the moment, that at the time it had merely struck
him humourously, and that his sin had not been quite so heinous as it
now appeared to him. If the element of humour now coloured his vision
of things but very slightly, that was only natural to his present
stage of development.

They lingered over their coffee, not rising till about half-past
eight.

"Suppose you just come and sit with me in my room, father," said
Morgan. "If we have to decide on a theatre now, I am afraid we shall
be quarrelling the rest of the evening. Besides, I do not want to
acquire the habits of a young man about town. We can have a quiet talk
for the rest of the evening."

"Yes, I should like to see your place," said his father. "It will
enable me to judge of your powers of graphic description."

He was beginning to be more cheerful already and to show it. He took
Morgan's arm affectionately, and they went back to Upper Thames street
and crossed Southwark Bridge.

"I hope the woman hasn't forgotten to lay the fire," said Morgan, as
he turned the key.

A moment later he had lighted the cheap lamp and the room