‘Coming to report progress?’

‘Yes, father,—­and to talk over things in general.’

The slim youth—­he could hardly be deemed more than a lad tried to assume an easy position, with his elbow on the corner of the mantelpiece; but his feet shuffled, and his eyes strayed vacantly.  It cost him an effort to begin his customary account of how things were going with him at the shipping-office.  In truth, there was nothing particular to report; there never was anything particular; but Horace always endeavoured to show that he had made headway, and to-night he spoke with a very pronounced optimism.

‘Very well, my boy,’ said his father.  ’If you are satisfied, I shalltry to be the same.  Have you your pipe with you?—­At your age I hadn’t begun to smoke, and I should advise you to be moderate; but we’ll have a whiff together, if you like.’

‘I’ll go and fetch it,’ Horace replied impulsively.

He came back with a rather expensive meerschaum, recently purchased.

‘Hollo! luxuries!’ exclaimed his father.

’It kept catching my eye in a window,—­and at last I couldn’t resist.  Tobacco’s quite a different thing out of a pipe like this, you know.’

No one, seeing them thus together, could have doubted of the affectionate feeling which Stephen Lord entertained for his son.  It appeared in his frequent glances, in the relaxation of his features, in a certain abandonment of his whole frame, as though he had only just begun to enjoy the evening’s repose.

‘I’ve something rather important to speak about, father,’ Horace began, when he had puffed for a few minutes in silence.

‘Oh?  What’s that?’

’You remember telling me, when I was one and twenty, that you wished me to work my way up, and win an income of my own, but that I could look to you for help, if ever there was need of it—?’

Yes, Stephen remembered.  He had frequently called it to mind, and wondered whether it was wisely said, the youth’s character considered.

‘What of that?’ he returned, still genially.  ’Do you think of starting a new line of ocean steamships?’

‘Well, not just yet,’ Horace answered, with an uncertain laugh.  ’I have something more moderate in view.  I may start a competition with the P. and O. presently.’

‘Let’s hear about it.’

’I dare say it will surprise you a little.  The fact is, I—­I am thinking of getting married.’

The father did not move, but smoke ceased to issue from his lips, and his eyes, fixed upon Horace, widened a little in puzzled amusement.

‘Thinking of it, are you?’ he said, in an undertone, as one speaks of some trifle.  ’No harm in thinking.  Too many people do it without thinking at all.’

‘I’m not one of that kind,’ said Horace, with an air of maturity which was meant to rebuke his father’s jest.  ’I know what I’m about.  I’ve thought it over thoroughly.  You don’t think it too soon, I hope?’