very lightness of heart when her father called her from
below. She rand down again, checking her inclination to sing as she
remembered the old housekeeper, who had but recently lost her master.

"I've rather set my affections on this room," said Raeburn, leading her
into what had formerly been the dining room.

"The very place where I came in fear and trembling to make my
confession," said Erica, laughing. "This would make a capital study."

"Yes, the good woman has gone to fetch an inch tape; I want to measure
for the book shelves. How many of my books could I comfortably house in
here, do you think?"

"A good many. The room is high, you see; and those two long, unbroken
walls would take several hundred. Ah! Here is the measuring tape. Now we
can calculate."

They were hard at work measuring when the door bell rang, and Tom's
voice was heard in the passage, asking for Raeburn.

"This way, Tom!" called Erica. "Come and help us!"

But a laughing reference to the day of their childish disaster died on
her lips when she caught sight of him for she knew that something was
wrong. Accustomed all her life to live in the region of storms, she had
learned to a nicety the tokens of rough weather.

"Hazeldine wishes to speak to you," said Tom, turning to Raeburn. "I
brought him round here to save time."

"Oh! All right," said Raeburn, too much absorbed in planning the
arrangement of his treasures to notice the unusual graveness of Tom's
face. "Ask him in here. Good evening, Hazeldine. You are the first to
see us in our new quarters."

Hazeldine bore traces of having lived from his childhood a hard but
sedentary life. He was under-sized and narrow chested. But the face was
a very striking one, the forehead finely developed, the features clearly
cut, and the bright, dark eyes looking out on the world with an almost
defiant honesty, a clearness bordering on hardness.

Raeburn, entirely putting aside for the time his own affairs, and giving
to his visitor his whole and undivided attention, saw in an instant that
the man was in trouble.

"Out of work again?" he asked. "Anything gone wrong?"

"No sir," replied Hazeldine; "but I came round to ask if you'd seen
that circular letter. 'Twas sent me this morning by a mate of mine who's
lately gone to Longstaff, and he says that this Pogson is sowing them
broadcast among the hands right through all the workshops in the place,
and in all England, too, for aught he knows. I woul