ut, for Mr Barclay was not the young man to be
fast and stop out of nights and want the servants to screen him. There
was something wrong, I felt sure, and so I said.

"No," said the old gentleman, as he sat up in bed, and then began to
dress; "he wouldn't go at my wish; but that girl over the way is playing
with him, and he is too proud to stand it any longer, besides being
mortified at making such an ass of himself. There's nothing wrong,
Burdon. He has gone, and a good job too."

Of course, I couldn't contradict my master; but I went up and examined
Mr Barclay's room, to find nothing missing, not so much as a shirt or a
pair of socks, only his crush-hat, and the light overcoat from the brass
peg in the front hall; and I shook my head.

Miss Virginia looked paler than ever at breakfast; but nothing more was
said up-stairs. Of course, the servants gossiped; and as it was settled
that Mr Barclay had done what his father had told him, a week passed
away, and matters settled down with Miss Adela Mimpriss sitting at the
window just as usual, doing worsted-work, and the old house looking as
grim as ever, and as if a bit of paint and a man to clean the windows
would have been a blessing to us all.

Every time the postman knocked, Miss Virginia would start; and her eyes
used to look so wild and large, that when I'd been to the little box and
found nothing from Mr Barclay, I used to give quite a gulp; and many's
the time I've stood back in the dining-room and shook my fist at Miss
Adela sitting so smooth and handsome at the opposite house, and wished
she'd been at the world's end before she came there.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER SEVEN.

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY.

Mr Barclay had been gone three weeks, and no news from him; and I was
beginning to think that he had gone off in a huff all at once, though I
often wondered how he would manage for want of money, when one night, as
I sat nursing Tom, I thought I'd look through my desk, that I hadn't
opened for three or four years, and have a look at a few old things I'd
got there--a watch Sir John gave me, but which I never wore; six
spade-ace guineas; and an old gold pin, beside a few odds and ends that
I'd had for a many years; and some cash. Tom didn't seem to like it,
and he stared hard at the desk as I took it on my knees, opened it,
lifted one of the flaps, and put my hand upon the old paper which
contained the statement about the old gold plate. No; I did not. I put
my