ers
that.'

They both laughed, then pursued their walk.

'Why look,' said Mr. Boddy presently, 'here's Mr. Ackroyd a-comin'
along!'

Lydia had already seen him; that was why she had become silent.

'You're not going to stop, are you, grandad?' she asked, under her
breath.

'Why no, my dear? Not if you don't wish.'

'I'd rather not.'

Ackroyd was walking with his hands in his pockets, looking carelessly
about him. He recognised the two at a little distance, and drew one
hand forth. Till he got quite near he affected not to have seen them;
then, without a smile, he raised his hat, and walked past, his pace
accelerated. Lydia, also with indifferent face, just bent to the
greeting. Mr. Boddy had given a friendly nod.

There was silence between the companions, then Lydia said:

'I've thought it better, grandad, not to--not to be quite the same with
Mr. Ackroyd as I used to be.'

'Yes, yes, Lyddy; I understand, There's a deal of talk about him. I'm
sorry. He's done me more than one good turn, and I hope he'll get
straight again yet. I'm afraid, my dear, as--you know--the
disappointment--'

Lydia interrupted with firmness.

'That's no excuse at all--not a bit! If he really felt the
disappointment so much he ought to have borne it like a man. Other
people have as much to bear. I never thought he was a man of that kind,
never! We won't say anything more about him.'

Their conversation so lightened the way that they reached Westminster
Bridge, and returned by the road which runs along the rear of the
hospital.

'You won't come in, Lyddy?' said the old man, when they were near the
shop again.

'Not to-day, grandad. I'm going to tea with Mrs. Grail and Gilbert,
because Thyrza's away.'

He acquiesced, trying to conceal the sadness he felt. Lydia kissed his
cheek, and left him.

All through tea in the Grails' parlour the talk was of Thyrza. How was
she passing her time? Was it as fine at Eastbourne as here in London?
What sort of a lady was Mrs. Ormonde? And when the three drew chairs
about the fire, Gilbert had something of moment to communicate,
something upon which he had resolved since Thyrza's departure.

'Lyddy,' he began, 'mother and I think Thyrza had better not go to work
again. As she is going to miss to-morrow morning, it'll be a good
opportunity for making the change. Isn't it better?'

Lydia did not reply at once. Such a decided step as this reminded her
how near the day was when, though they