as it happened a messenger arrived from
Overstone with a parcel of books, which made it necessary for him to
return to the library. And while there Mr Rimbolt as usual came in.

As soon as the business matter had been arranged Mr Rimbolt said, "Miss
Atherton has been asking to see Blake's _Songs of Innocence_, Jeffreys;
will you kindly take the book to her in the drawing-room? I have one of
my tenants to see here, but I shall be in shortly."

There was no possible escape from this dilemma. With a groan he got the
book down from its place and went.

Scarfe, as he entered the drawing-room, was engaged in turning over a
book of prints with Raby, and did not notice him. Nor did Mrs Rimbolt,
siting on the sofa beside her friend, heed his entrance till Percy
said,--

"Hullo, Jeff!"

Jeffreys became aware that the eyes of the whole party were suddenly
centred on him--Mrs Rimbolt's from under lifted eyebrows, Mrs Scarfe's
through raised eye-glasses, Raby's with a veiled welcome, Scarfe's in
blank astonishment. He advanced awkwardly into the room.

"Close the door, please, Mr Jeffreys," said Mrs Rimbolt, in tones
which left no manner of doubt in her visitors' minds as to the status of
the librarian in the house.

Jeffreys obeyed, and advanced once more towards Raby.

"Your uncle," stammered he, conscious of nothing but Scarfe's stare,
"asked me to bring you this book." Then, turning with a desperate
effort to his old schoolfellow, he said, "How are you, Scarfe?"

He scorned himself for the half-appealing tone in which the salutation
was made. What was Scarfe to him? Nothing, save that Scarfe and he had
both looked down that October afternoon on the motionless form of one
small boy in the Bolsover meadow. And was that nothing?

"How do you do, Jeffreys?" said Scarfe, stiffly extending his hand, and
immediately afterwards returning to his examination of the prints with
Raby.

"Do you know Jeff?" asked Percy, who had witnessed the recognition.

"Yes. Jeffreys and I have met," said Scarfe, not looking up from his
book.

"Who is that young man?" said Mrs Scarfe, in an audible whisper to her
hostess.

"The librarian here. Mr Jeffreys," added Mrs Rimbolt, as Jeffreys
stood irresolute, not knowing whether to remain in the room or go, "be
good enough to tell Walker he can bring the coffee, and tell Mr Rimbolt
we are expecting him."

"Mr Rimbolt asked me to say you are not to wait coffee for him. He may
be