etermine never to come upon
the paternal purse again. It was this very pride perhaps that had made
him somewhat distort his father's attitude--rather by implication than
by any definite statement--in his last evening's conversation with
Ingram.

He was but too conscious of that attitude as he waited on the platform
for the train to arrive--it had gradually become an intolerable irony
to him.

CHAPTER IV.

"I'm perfectly ravenous," said Archibald Druce. "We must lunch at
once."

Morgan restrained his usual impatient stride, falling in with the
slow, dignified step of his sire, who, though of broad build, would
have been as tall as his son, had it not been for a slight stoop, of
which he was proud, as it gave him an air of erudition.

They repaired to a restaurant close at hand and had a sumptuous lunch
served them. Archibald, who had a weakness for punning, was in one of
his gayest moods, and was not above being occasionally appreciated by
the waiter. Morgan did his best to appear cheerful; he did not wish
his father to suspect anything was amiss. He listened to a humourous
account of home affairs with smiling face, even interposing a few
humourous comments of his own. Eventually he enquired about his
father's eyesight and Archibald's face brightened still more. Soon the
banker grew eloquent on the subject, detailing all the minute symptoms
a morbid attention had detected.

"But I've great faith in John--he's the cleverest oculist in the
Kingdom. And so I thought I'd better come up to town and see him
before--ha, I was just going to let my secret slip out!"

And Archibald sipped his coffee and beamed at Morgan behind his gold
spectacles.

"That sounds like a direct encouragement to me to be inquisitive,"
said Morgan.

"Well, if you'd like to know the secret, it's simply this: I'm going
to write a book."

"What about?" Morgan's tone and gesture summed up his amused
astonishment.

"A good many things," answered Archibald, his face assuming a serious
expression. "You see, I've got into the habit of thinking a good deal
of late, and I've come to the conclusion I ought to be putting my
thoughts down on paper. New ideas occur to me almost every day, and
I'm really beginning to feel that a man like myself can derive more
mental culture from the free play of his own original thought than
from simply following other men's, however admirable it be. The latter
course rather encourages a certain mental lazin