‘Yes, uncle,’ said Gladys meekly, and retired to her own room thankfully, to lay off her bonnet and cloak.

Walter hung about by the dying fire after the old man went up to take his nightly survey of the premises, and at last Gladys came back.

‘Did you have a good lesson, Walter?’ she asked, with a slight smile.

’Oh, splendid.  What a thing it is to learn!  I feel as if I could do anything now I have begun,’ he cried enthusiastically.  ’Mr. Robertson was so kind.  He will give me Euclid as well for the same money.  He says he sees I am in earnest.  Life is a fine thing after all, sometimes.’

‘Yes.’  Gladys looked upon his face, flushed with the fine enthusiasm of youth, with a slight feeling of envy.  She felt very old and tired and sad.

‘And you’ve been out with Liz?’ he said then, seeing that for some unexplained reason she was not so interested as usual in his pursuits.  ‘Where did she take you?’

‘To a music hall—­not a nice place, Walter,’ said Gladys almost shamefacedly.

His colour, the flush of quick anger, leaped in his cheek.

’A music hall!  I should just say it isn’t a nice place.  How dared she?  I see Liz needs me to talk to her plainly, and I will next time I see her,’ he began hotly; but just then the old man returned, and they kept silence.  But the evening’s ‘ploy’ disturbed them both all night, though in a different way.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX.

AN IMPENDING CHANGE.

It was an uneventful year.  Spring succeeded the fogs and frosts of winter, sunny skies and warmer airs came again, bringing comfort to those who could buy artificial heat, so making gladness in cities, and a wonder of loveliness in country places, where Nature reigns supreme.  The hardy flowers Gladys planted in the little yard grew and blossomed; the solitary tree, in spite of its loneliness, put forth its fresh green buds, and made itself a thing of beauty in the maiden’s eyes.  In that lonely home the tide of life flowed evenly.  The old man made his bargains, cutting them perhaps a trifle less keenly than in former years.  The lad, approaching young manhood, did his daily work, and drank yet deeper of the waters of knowledge, becoming day by day more conscious of his power, more full of hope and high ambition for the future.  And the child Gladys, approaching womanhood also, contentedly performed her lowly tasks, and dreamed her dreams likewise, sometimes wondering vaguely how long this monotonous, grey stream would flow on, yet not wishing it disturbed, lest greater ills than she knew might beset her way.

Again winter came, and just when spring was gathering up her skirts to spread them benignly over the earth, a great change came, a very great change indeed.

It was a March day—­cold, bitter, blustering east winds tearing through the streets, catching the breath with a touch of ice—­when the old man, who to the observant eye had become of late decrepit and very frail-looking, came shivering down from his warehouse, and, creeping to the fire, tried to warm his chilled body, saying he felt himself very ill.