‘No doubt you have a fair amount of argument on your side,’ I replied, so meekly that he looked at me, and then got up from his chair and said hastily that I was tired, and he was thoughtless to keep me waiting for my tea.

‘Let me give you some, while you tell me about the case,’ was my hospitable reply; for, though I felt no special desire to prolong our tete-a-tete, mere civility prompted my offer.

He hesitated, then, to my surprise, sat down again, and said he would be very much obliged if I would give him a cup of tea, as he was tired too, and had to go farther and keep his dinner waiting.

I went out of the room to remove my hat and speak to Mrs. Barton.  When I came back he was standing before Charlie’s photograph, and evidently studying it with some attention, but he made no remark about it; and I told him of my own accord that it was the portrait of my twin-brother, who had died two years ago.

’Indeed!  There is no likeness; at least I should not have known it was your brother.  This is often the case between relations,’ he continued hastily, as though he feared he had hurt me.  ’What a snug little berth you have, Miss Garston, and everything so ship-shape too!  I suppose that is your piano; but I am afraid you will have little time to practise.’  And then, as I handed him his tea, he threw himself down in the easy-chair and seemed prepared to enjoy himself.

Looking at Mr. Hamilton this evening, I could have believed he had two sides to his character:  he presented such a complete contrast to the Mr. Hamilton in Uncle Max’s study that I was quite puzzled by it.  He had certainly a clever face, and his smile was quick and bright; it was only in rest that his mouth looked so stern and hard.  I found myself wondering once or twice if he had known any great trouble that had embittered him.

‘Well, I must tell you about poor Phoebe Locke,’ he began suddenly.  ’I want you to find out what you can do for her.  The Lockes are respectable people:  Phoebe and her sister were dressmakers.  They live a little lower down,—­at Woodbine Cottage.

’Some years ago spinal disease came on, and now Phoebe is bedridden.  She suffers a good deal at times, but her worst trouble is that her nerves are disordered, most likely from the dulness and monotony of her life.  She suffers cruelly from low spirits; and no wonder, lying all day in that dull little back room.  Her sister cannot sit with her, as Phoebe cannot bear the noise of the sewing-machine, and the sight of the outer world seems to irritate her.  The neighbours would come in to cheer her up, but she does not seem able to bear their loud voices.  It is wonderful,’ he continued musingly, ’how education and refinement train the voice:  strange to say, though my voice is not particularly low, and certainly not sweet, it never seems to jar upon her.’

‘Very likely not,’ I returned quickly; ’no doubt she depends upon you for all her comforts:  to most invalids the doctor’s visit is the one bright spot in the day.’