ves. You are a
chook!"

A scent of hair, like hay, enveloped him, her lips bobbed against his
nose,--and there came a feeling in his heart as when he rolled the
first sip of a special wine against his palate. This little house was
a rumty-too affair, her mother was a humbug, the boy a cheeky young
rascal, but there was a warmth here he never felt in that big house
which had been his wife's and was now his holy daughter's. And once more
he rejoiced at his day's work, and the success of his breach of trust,
which put some little ground beneath these young feet, in a hard and
unscrupulous world. Phyllis whispered in his ear:

"Guardy, do look; he will stare at me like that. Isn't it awful--like a
boiled rabbit?"

Bob Pillin, attentive to Mrs. Larne, was gazing with all his might over
her shoulder at the girl. The young man was moonstruck, that was clear!
There was something almost touching in the stare of those puppy dog's
eyes. And he thought 'Young beggar--wish I were his age!' The utter
injustice of having an old and helpless body, when your desire for
enjoyment was as great as ever! They said a man was as old as he felt!
Fools! A man was as old as his legs and arms, and not a day younger. He
heard the girl beside him utter a discomfortable sound, and saw her
face cloud as if tears were not far off; she jumped up, and going to the
window, lifted the little dog and buried her face in its brown and white
fur. Old Heythorp thought: 'She sees that her humbugging mother is using
her as a decoy.' But she had come back, and the little dog, rolling its
eyes horribly at the strange figure on the sofa, in a desperate effort
to escape succeeded in reaching her shoulder, where it stayed perched
like a cat, held by one paw and trying to back away into space. Old
Heythorp said abruptly:

"Are you very fond of your mother?"

"Of course I am, Guardy. I adore her."

"H'm! Listen to me. When you come of age or marry, you'll have a hundred
and twenty a year of your own that you can't get rid of. Don't ever be
persuaded into doing what you don't want. And remember: Your mother's a
sieve, no good giving her money; keep what you'll get for yourself--it's
only a pittance, and you'll want it all--every penny."

Phyllis's eyes had opened very wide; so that he wondered if she had
taken in his words.

"Oh! Isn't money horrible, Guardy?"

"The want of it."

"No, it's beastly altogether. If only we were like birds. Or if one
could put