characterised by the
commercialising modern spirit in its most pronounced and objectionable
form. Mr. Rae, of course, would never condescend to hostile criticism,
dismissing Messrs. Thomlinson & Shields from the conversation with the
single remark, "Pushing, Sir, very pushing, indeed."

It was, then, no small humiliation for Mr. Rae to be forced to accept
a favour from Mr. Thomlinson. "Had it been any other than Cameron," he
said to himself, as he sat in his somewhat dingy and dusty office,
"I would let him swither. But Cameron! I must see to it and at once."
Behind the name there rose before Mr. Rae's imagination a long line
of brave men and fair women for whose name and fame and for whose good
estate it had been his duty and the duty of those who had preceded him
in office to assume responsibility.

"Young fool! Much he cares for the honour of his family! I wonder what's
at the bottom of this business! Looks ugly! Decidedly ugly! The first
thing is to find him." A messenger had failed to discover young Cameron
at his lodgings, and had brought back the word that for a week he
had not been seen there. "He must be found. They have given me till
to-morrow. I cannot ask a further stay of proceedings; I cannot and I
will not." It made Mr. Rae more deeply angry that he knew quite well
if necessity arose he would do just that very thing. "Then there's his
father coming in this evening. We simply must find him. But how and
where?"

Mr. Rae was not unskilled in such a matter. "Find a man, find his
friends," he muttered. "Let's see. What does the young fool do? What
are his games? Ah! Football! I have it! Young Dunn is my man." Hence to
young Dunn forthwith Mr. Rae betook himself.

It was still early in the day when Mr. Rae's mild, round, jolly,
clean-shaven face beamed in upon Mr. Dunn, who sat with dictionaries,
texts, and class notebooks piled high about him, burrowing in that
mound of hidden treasure which it behooves all prudent aspirants for
university honours to diligently mine as the fateful day approaches.
With Mr. Dunn time had now come to be measured by moments, and every
moment golden. But the wrathful impatience that had gathered in his
face at the approach of an intruder was overwhelmed in astonishment at
recognising so distinguished a visitor as Mr. Rae the Writer.

"Ah, Mr. Dunn," said Mr. Rae briskly, "a moment only, one moment, I
assure you. Well do I know the rage which boils behind that genial smile
of