nce and his visitor's manner told him that he ought to go for her
father; personal inclination told him that there was no hurry. For the
first time in his experience the office became most desirable place in
the world. He wanted to sit still and look at her, and for some time,
despite her restlessness, obeyed his inclinations. She turned at last to
ask for her father, and in the fraction of a second he was immersed in
a bundle of papers. Knitted brows and pursed lips testified to his
absorption. He seized a pen and made an endorsement; looked at it with
his head on one side and struck it out again.

[Illustration: Immersed in a bundle of papers 038]

"My father?" said Miss Hartley, in a small but determined voice.

Mr. Vyner gazed at her in a preoccupied fashion. Suddenly his face
changed.

"Good gracious! yes," he said, springing up and going to the door. "How
stupid of me!"

He stepped into the corridor and stood reflecting. In some circumstances
he could be business-like enough. After reflecting for three minutes he
came back into the room.

"He will be in soon," he said, resuming his seat. Inwardly he resolved
to go and fetch him later on--when the conversation flagged, for
instance. Meantime he took up his papers and shook his head over them.

"I wish I had got your father's head for business," he said, ruefully.

Miss Hartley turned on him a face from which all primness had vanished.
The corners of her mouth broke and her eyes grew soft. She smiled at Mr.
Vyner, and Mr. Vyner, pluming himself upon his address, smiled back.

"If I knew half as much as he does," he continued, "I'd--I'd----"

Miss Hartley waited, her eyes bright with expectation.

"I'd," repeated Mr. Vyner, who had rashly embarked on a sentence before
he had seen the end of it, "have a jolly easy time of it," he concluded,
breathlessly.

Miss Hartley surveyed him in pained surprise. "I thought my father
worked very hard," she said, with a little reproach in her voice.

"So he does," said the young man, hastily, "but he wouldn't if he only
had my work to do; that's what I meant. As far as he is concerned he
works far too hard. He sets an example that is a trouble to all of us
except the office-boy. Do you know Bassett?"

Miss Hartley smiled. "My father tells me he is a very good boy," she
said.

"A treasure!" said Robert. "'Good' doesn't describe Bassett. He is the
sort of boy who would get off a 'bus after paying his fare to kick
a