'It's nearly half-past nine,' said the old man crossly; 'too late for
you to be in the streets. Get to bed now, and be up to work in the
morning.'

'Yes, uncle,' said Gladys meekly, and retired to her own room
thankfully, to lay off her bonnet and cloak.

Walter hung about by the dying fire after the old man went up to take
his nightly survey of the premises, and at last Gladys came back.

'Did you have a good lesson, Walter?' she asked, with a slight smile.

'Oh, splendid. What a thing it is to learn! I feel as if I could do
anything now I have begun,' he cried enthusiastically. 'Mr. Robertson
was so kind. He will give me Euclid as well for the same money. He says
he sees I am in earnest. Life is a fine thing after all, sometimes.'

'Yes.' Gladys looked upon his face, flushed with the fine enthusiasm of
youth, with a slight feeling of envy. She felt very old and tired and
sad.

'And you've been out with Liz?' he said then, seeing that for some
unexplained reason she was not so interested as usual in his pursuits.
'Where did she take you?'

'To a music hall--not a nice place, Walter,' said Gladys almost
shamefacedly.

His colour, the flush of quick anger, leaped in his cheek.