ork at St. Wulstan's,
because our profits chiefly come from thence. It does not please at
home, because they think he could have done better for himself, and he
sometimes is obliged to interfere with Mervyn's plans.'

Sir Bevil made the less answer because they were in the full current of
London traffic, and his proud chestnut was snuffing the hat of an omnibus
conductor. Careful driving was needed, and Phoebe was praised for never
even looking frightened, then again for her organ of locality and the
skilful pilotage with which she unerringly and unhesitatingly found the
way through the Whittingtonian labyrinths; and as the disgusted tiger
pealed at the knocker of Turnagain Corner, she was told she would be a
useful guide in the South African bush. 'At home,' was the welcome
reply, and in another second her arms were round Robert's neck. There
was a thorough brotherly greeting between him and Sir Bevil; each saw in
the other a man to be respected, and Robert could not but be grateful to
the man who brought him Phoebe.

Her eyes were on the alert to judge how he had been using himself in the
last half-year. He looked thin, yet that might be owing to his highly
clerical coat, and some of his rural ruddiness was gone, but there was no
want of health of form or face, only the spareness and vigour of thorough
working condition. His expression was still grave even to sadness, and
sternness seemed gathering round his thin lips. Heavy of heart he
doubtless was still, but she was struck by the absence of the undefined
restlessness that had for years been habitual to both brothers, and which
had lately so increased on Mervyn, that there was a relief in watching a
face free from it, and telling not indeed of happiness, but of a mind
made up to do without it.

She supposed that his room ought to satisfy her, for though untidy in
female eyes, it did not betray ultra self-neglect. The fire was brisk,
there was a respectable luncheon on the table, and he had even treated
himself to the _Guardian_, some new books, and a beautiful photograph of
a foreign cathedral. The room was littered with half-unrolled plans,
which had to be cleared before the guests could find seats, and he had
evidently been beguiling his luncheon with the perusal of some large MS.
sheets, red-taped together at the upper corner.

'That's handsome,' said Sir Bevil. 'What is it for? A school or
almshouses.'

'Something of both,' said Robert, his colou