ant bluebottle in his
ointment. He came up regularly from Chigbourne to inspect him,
generally with literary advice and the latest scandal about his
detested neighbour, which he thought might be 'worked up into
something.' He had discovered the Row as an afternoon lounge where his
nephew ought to show himself 'among the swells,' and he insisted, in
spite of all Mark's attempts at evasion, in walking him about there.
Mark was not perhaps exactly ashamed of the man whose favours he was
accepting, at least he did not own as much even to himself, but there
were times when, as he met the surprised glances of people he knew
slightly, he could have wished that his loud-voiced and unpresentable
relative had not got quite such a tight hold of his arm.

At a hint from Trixie he had tendered the olive-branch to his family,
which they accepted rather as if it had been something he had asked
them to hold for him, and without the slightest approach to anything
like a scene. Trixie had, of course, been in communication with him
from the first, and kept her satisfaction to herself; Mr. Ashburn was
too timid, and his wife too majestic, to betray emotion, while the
other two were slightly disappointed. The virtuous members of a family
are not always best pleased to see the prodigal at any time, and it is
particularly disconcerting to find that the supposed outcast has been
living on veal instead of husks during his absence, and associating
rather with lions than swine. Mark was not offended at his reception,
however, he felt himself independent now; but his easy temper made him
anxious to be at peace with them, and if they were not exactly
effusive, they made no further pretence of disapproval, and the
reconciliation was perfectly genuine as far as it went.

'I am going to see you to the gate, Mark,' Trixie announced, as he
rose to go. It was not a long or a perilous journey, but she had an
object in accompanying him down the little flagged path. 'I've got
something to tell you,' she said, as they stood by the iron gate in
the hot August night. 'I wish I knew how to begin.... Mark--how would
you like a--a new brother, because I'm going to give you one?'

'Thanks very much, Trixie,' said Mark, 'but I think I can get along
without another of them.'

'Ah, but Jack would be a _nice_ one,' said Trixie.

Mark remembered then that he had noticed a decided improvement in her
dress and appearance. 'And who is this Jack whom you're so
disint