‘Yes.  He died in Australia, about four years ago.’

’Did he now?  Well, I’ve been in America, but I never got so far as Australia.  So Mike’s dead, is he?  I hope he had better luck than me.’

The old man did not cease from examining his son’s countenance.

‘What is your position, at present?’ he asked, after a pause.  ’You don’t look unprosperous.’

’Nothing to boast of, father.  I’ve gone through all kinds of trades.  In the States I both made and lost money.  I invented a new method of nickel-plating, but it did me no good, and then I gave up that line altogether.  Since I’ve been back in England—­two years about—­ I’ve mostly gone in for canvassing, advertising agencies, and that kind of thing.  I make an honest living, and that’s about all.  But I shouldn’t wonder if things go a bit better now; I feel as if I was settled at last.  What with having a home of my own, and you and Janey near at hand—­You won’t mind if I come and see you both now and then?’

‘I shall hope to see you often,’ replied the other, still keeping his grave face and tone.  ’It’s been my strong desire that we might come together again, and I’ve done the best I could to find you.  But, as you said, we’ve been parted for a very long time, and it isn’t in a day that we can come to understand each other.  These seventeen years have made an old man of me, Jo; I think and speak and act slowly:—­better for us all if I had learned to do so long ago!  Your coming was unexpected; I shall need a little time to get used to the change it makes.’

’To be sure; that’s true enough.  Plenty of time to talk over things.  As far as I’m concerned, father, the less said about bygones the better; it’s the future that I care about now.  I want to put things right between us—­as they ought to be between father and son.  You understand me, I hope?’

Michael nodded, keeping his eyes upon the ground.  Again there was a silence, then Joseph said that if Jane would come in and speak a few words—­so as to make things home-like—­it would be time for him to take his leave for the present.  At her grandfather’s summons Jane entered the room.  She was still oppressed by the strangeness of her position, and with difficulty took part in the colloquy.  Joseph, still touching the note of humility in his talk, eyed his relatives alternately, and exhibited reluctance to quit them.

When he returned to the Close, it was with a face expressing dissatisfaction.  Clem’s eager inquiries he met at first with an ill-tempered phrase or two, which informed her of nothing; but when dinner was over he allowed himself to be drawn into a confidential talk, in which Mrs. Peckover took part.  The old man, he remarked, was devilish close; it looked as if ‘some game was on.’  Mrs. Peckover ridiculed this remark; of course there was a game on; she spoke of Sidney Kirkwood, the influence he had obtained over Snowdon, the designs he was obviously