up,” said Morris Townsend. “I am a kind of amateur tutor; I give them lessons.” “That’s very proper, as I say; but it is hardly a career.” “It won’t make my fortune!” the young man confessed. “You must not be too much bent on a fortune,” said the Doctor. “But I assure you I will keep you in mind; I won’t lose sight of you!” “If my situation becomes desperate I shall perhaps take the liberty of reminding you!” Morris rejoined, raising his voice a little, with a brighter smile, as his interlocutor turned away. Before he left the house the Doctor had a few words with Mrs. Almond. “I should like to see his sister,” he said. “What do you call her? Mrs. Montgomery. I should like to have a little talk with her.” “I will try and manage it,” Mrs. Almond responded. “I will take the first opportunity of inviting her, and you shall come and meet her. Unless, indeed,” Mrs. Almond added, “she first takes it into her head to be sick and to send for you.” “Ah no, not that; she must have trouble enough without that. But it would have its advantages, for then I should see the children. I should like very much to see the children.” “You are very thorough. Do you want to catechise them about their uncle!” “Precisely. Their uncle tells me he has charge of their education, that he saves their mother the expense of school-bills. I should like to ask them a few questions in the commoner branches.” “He certainly has not the cut of a schoolmaster!” Mrs. Almond said to herself a short time afterwards, as she saw Morris Townsend in a corner bending over her niece, who was seated. And there was, indeed, nothing in the young man’s discourse at this moment that savoured of the pedagogue. “Will you meet me somewhere to-morrow or next day?” he said, in a low tone, to Catherine. “Meet you?” she asked, lifting her frightened eyes. “I have something particular to say to you—very particular.”