The evening passed. Tea was over. The "little ones" were in bed. Stevens was sitting at supper with Mrs. Pryor when Raymond rang the bell.
"Where have you been, Raymond?" Salome said, going out to meet her brother. "Why did you not go to the station to meet mamma?"
"Why didn't I go?--there were plenty without me," he said crossly. "I have been with Barington; I met him in Roxburgh, and I was thankful to get out of this hole."
"Raymond, don't say that to mamma," Salome entreated.
"Well, my dear boy," Mrs. Wilton said, rising wearily from her chair as Raymond went into the room, "I was getting quite anxious about you;" and then she kissed him affectionately.
"I met an old friend--Barington," Raymond said; "and I knew Reginald would meet you.--Hallo, Ada, how are you? Barington wanted to come to-morrow to see you. He admires your photograph so much; but I could not let him see us here, so I put him off."
Ada looked up with a placid smile from her work--for Ada was never idle for a moment--and said, "Who is Barington?"
"Oh, an awfully nice fellow!--I say, mother, you won't stay here, will you? No decent people will call upon you. I can easily find you some nice lodgings Barington told me of."
"My dear boy, we must stay here for the present. It is quiet and better than living in a street. Will you have any tea, Raymond?" she asked.
"No, thanks; I have dined with Barington at the Queen's. He paid the score."
Raymond had a soft, caressing way with his mother, and she now sat with her hand in his, looking at him with loving interest.
"I can't bear you to live in a place like this," he began again, "you dear mother. I am sure there are heaps of good lodgings in the better part of Roxburgh, only our kind relatives did not wish to have us too near them."
"Well, never mind about that, dear. Uncle Loftus has, he thinks, heard of something for you in Harstone. You are to go and see Mr. Warde with him to-morrow at ten o'clock punctually."
"Uncle Loftus won't like to be kept waiting, so you must be up in good time to be at Edinburgh Crescent by ten o'clock, Digby says."
"Shut up, Reginald," said his brother; "I do not want your interference."
"What is to be done about old Birch, mother?" he asked turning again to Mrs. Wilton; "he ought to have a term's notice. I thought I could go back till Christmas."