Any stranger peeping into the office at that moment might have wondered what was the drama between the indignant man of business, and the fine-looking young fellow whose blond complexion was getting rather patchy as he bit his lip with mortification.  Fred was struggling with many thoughts.  Mr. Garth had been so kind and encouraging at the beginning of their interview, that gratitude and hopefulness had been at a high pitch, and the downfall was proportionate.  He had not thought of desk-work—­in fact, like the majority of young gentlemen, he wanted an occupation which should be free from disagreeables.  I cannot tell what might have been the consequences if he had not distinctly promised himself that he would go to Lowick to see Mary and tell her that he was engaged to work under her father.  He did not like to disappoint himself there.

“I am very sorry,” were all the words that he could muster.  But Mr. Garth was already relenting.

“We must make the best of it, Fred,” he began, with a return to his usual quiet tone.  “Every man can learn to write.  I taught myself.  Go at it with a will, and sit up at night if the day-time isn’t enough.  We’ll be patient, my boy.  Callum shall go on with the books for a bit, while you are learning.  But now I must be off,” said Caleb, rising.  “You must let your father know our agreement.  You’ll save me Callum’s salary, you know, when you can write; and I can afford to give you eighty pounds for the first year, and more after.”

When Fred made the necessary disclosure to his parents, the relative effect on the two was a surprise which entered very deeply into his memory.  He went straight from Mr. Garth’s office to the warehouse, rightly feeling that the most respectful way in which he could behave to his father was to make the painful communication as gravely and formally as possible.  Moreover, the decision would be more certainly understood to be final, if the interview took place in his father’s gravest hours, which were always those spent in his private room at the warehouse.

Fred entered on the subject directly, and declared briefly what he had done and was resolved to do, expressing at the end his regret that he should be the cause of disappointment to his father, and taking the blame on his own deficiencies.  The regret was genuine, and inspired Fred with strong, simple words.

Mr. Vincy listened in profound surprise without uttering even an exclamation, a silence which in his impatient temperament was a sign of unusual emotion.  He had not been in good spirits about trade that morning, and the slight bitterness in his lips grew intense as he listened.  When Fred had ended, there was a pause of nearly a minute, during which Mr. Vincy replaced a book in his desk and turned the key emphatically.  Then he looked at his son steadily, and said—­

“So you’ve made up your mind at last, sir?”

“Yes, father.”