men out of ten but had a meaning for him, drew near to the town. He topped the last eminence, he rode under the ancient oak, whence, tradition had it, a famous Welshman had watched the wreck of his fortunes on a pitched field. Finally he saw, rising from the river before him, the amphitheatre of dim lights that was the town. Descending he crossed the bridge. 

 He sighed as he did so. For to him to pass from the silent lands and to enter the brawling streets where apprentices were putting up the shutters and beggars were raking among heaps of market garbage was to fall half way from the clouds. To right and left the inns were roaring drunken choruses, drabs stood in the mouths of the alleys—dubbed in Aldersbury “shuts”—tradesmen were hastening to wet their profits at the Crown or the Gullet. When at last he heard the house door clang behind him, and breathed the confined air of the bank, redolent for him of ledgers and day-books, the fall was complete. He reached the earth. 

 If he had not done so, his sister’s face when he entered the dining-room would have brought him to his level. 

 “My eye and Betty Martin!” she said. “But you’ve done it now, my lad!” 

 “What’s the matter?” 

 “Father will tell you that. He’s in his room and as black as thunder. He came home by the mail at three—Sir Charles waiting, Mr. Acherley waiting, the bank full, no Clement! You are in for it. You are to go to him the moment you come in.” 

 He looked longingly at the table where supper awaited him. “What did he say?” he asked. 

 “He said all I have said and d—n besides. It’s no good looking at the table, my lad. You must see him first and then I’ll give you your supper.” 

 “All right!” he replied, and he turned to the door with something of a swagger. 

 But Betty, whose moods were as changeable as the winds, and whose thoughts were much graver than her words, was at the door before him. She took him by the lapel of his coat and looked up in his face. “You won’t forget that you’re in fault, Clem, will you?” she said in a small voice. “Remember that if he had not worked there would be no walking about with a gun or a rod for you. And no looking at new drills, whatever they are, for I know that that is what you had in your mind this morning. He’s a good dad, Clem—better than most. You won’t forget that, will you?” 

 “But after all a man 

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