ments there was a somewhat awkward silence, during
which the young man stood with his eyes cast down, apparently absorbed
in thought. "A striking face," thought Mr. Heron to himself, being
greatly attracted by the appearance of his new friend; "all the more
picturesque on account of that curious grey hair. I wonder what his
history has been." Then he spoke aloud and in a kindlier tone. "I will
accept your offer of help," he said, "and ask you to walk back with me
to the town, if you are going that way. I came by a short cut, which I
am quite sure that I shall never remember."

The young man awoke from his apparently sad meditations; his fine, dark
eyes were lightened by a grateful smile as he looked at Mr. Heron. It
seemed as though he were glad that something had been suggested that he
could do. But the smile was succeeded by a still more settled look of
gloom.

"I must introduce myself," he said. "I have no card with me--perhaps
this will do as well." He held out the book that he had been reading; it
was a copy of Horace's _Odes_, bound in vellum. On the fly-leaf, a name
had been scrawled in pencil--John Stretton. Mr. Heron glanced at it
through his eye-glass, nodded pleasantly, and regarded his new friend
with increased respect.

"You're a scholar, I see," he said, good-humouredly, as they strolled
leisurely towards the little town in which he had told John Stretton
that he was staying; "or else you would not bring Horace out with you
into the fields on a sunshiny day like this. I have forgotten almost all
my classical lore. To tell the truth, Mr. Stretton, I never found it
very much good to me; but I suppose all boys have got to have a certain
amount of it drilled into them----?" He stopped short in an interrogative
manner.

"I suppose so," said Stretton, without a smile. His eyes were bent on
the ground; there was a joyless contraction of his delicate, dark brows.
It was with an evident effort that he suddenly looked up and spoke. "I
have an interest in such subjects. I am trying to find pupils
myself--or, at least, I hope to find some when I return to England in a
week or two. I think," he added with a half-laugh, "that I am a pretty
good classic--good enough, at least, to teach small boys!"

"I dare say, I dare say," said Mr. Heron, hastily. He looked as if he
would like to put another question or two, then turned away, muttered
something inaudible, and started off upon a totally different subject,
about wh