shall go to town
and see your brother-in-law, and offer him a place at my
printing-office. I have already inquired his character of his present
employers."

Rowles's head was shaking again; but he only held the boat for Mr.
Burnet and Leonard to step into it, and his forebodings of failure on
Mitchell's part were for the moment kept to himself.

There were also forebodings of failure in the mind of Roberts, when
his master talked so hopefully of what was going to happen to Juliet's
father.

"Don't make too sure, Mr. Leonard, of anything. I daresay that
Juliet's father will have better health living in the country, but as
for his getting to be foreman of your printing-office, I have my
doubts."

Perhaps Roberts's doubts were due to his attack of rheumatism. He was
at this time suffering so much from it that he was almost cross. He
was laid up the very day that Mr. Burnet took possession of the Bourne
House, and sat wrapped in flannel, though the weather was very warm.

"Don't talk to me any more," he said savagely when a tremendous twinge
seemed to be piercing between his bones, "about your Juliet's father
and your Mrs. Bosher's brother. If people have not got names of their
own I don't want to hear about such people."

The housekeeper who was waiting on him began to say, "The name of Mrs.
Bosher's brother--"

"Hold your tongue, do! How this arm does ache, to be sure!"

Leonard was in the room. He got as far as, "The name of Juliet's
father--"

"I won't hear it!" cried poor Roberts, kicking out his right foot, in
which the pain was steely cold.

"We want you to go and see him on Monday," said Leonard.

"Then you may want!" and he flung out the left foot in which the pain
was red-hot.

The housekeeper signed to Leonard to leave the invalid to himself.
When this attack was over Roberts would be himself again--kind and
gentle and polite.

But there was no chance of his being able to go to London to make
arrangements for the move of the Mitchell family. Mr. Burnet was in
the habit of leaving a great deal to Roberts, being himself old and
ailing, and easily upset. On the Sunday, a lovely, sweet, clear day,
it was plain that Roberts would not be of any use for another week or
more.

Mr. Burnet and his son were walking back from evening service, and
enjoying the calm of Sunday evening. Everything had been beautiful;
the hymns, the sermon in church; the hymns of the birds and the
sermons of the harvest, in t