I will probably see you to-night.

Call a taxi," he said to Michelham who at that moment came into the room with a note.

He had kissed his mother and was preparing to leave, when just as he got to the door he turned and said: "Don't say a word to any one, to-day, of the news--let it come out in the _Morning Post_, to-morrow.

I ask it--please ?" "Not even to Cyril?
You have forgotten that he is coming up from Uncle Charles' to go back to Eton," his mother said, "and the girls already know." "Oh! Cyril.

By Jove! I had forgotten! Yes, tell him; he is a first class chap, he'll understand, and, I say"-- and he pulled some sovereigns from his pocket--"do give him these from me for this term." Then with a smile he went.
And a few minutes afterwards a small, slender boy of fourteen, with only Eton's own inimitable self-confidence and delicious swagger printed upon his every line, drove up to the door, and, paying for the taxi in a lordly way, came into his mother's morning-room.