A mother could not have watched her only child with more jealous devotion than that with which Old Wheels watched his darling Lily. He could not bear her out of his sight; he even begrudged the time she gave to Alfred; for Lily clung to her brother, and seemed to have discovered a new bond of affection to bind them closer to each other. Beset as he was with doubts and fears, Old Wheels found a fresh cause for disturbance in this circumstance; and he was not successful in hiding his disturbance from Alfred, who showed his consciousness of it in a certain defiant fashion, which gave his grandfather inexpressible pain. But the old man bore with this without open repining; he gave all his love to Lily, and he blamed himself for the jealous feeling he bore to Alfred. He strove against it, but he could not weaken it, and he could only watch and wait. In the mean time Lily, to his eyes, was growing thinner and paler. He spoke to Gribble junior about it.

"Don't you think Lily is not looking so well as she did?"

"Mrs. J. G. was saying the very same thing to me," replied Gribble junior, "only the night before last. 'I don't think Lily is strong,' said Mrs. J. G. to me; 'she looks pale.' And I said, 'It's that music-hall; the heat and the gas and the smoke's too much for her.'"

"You are right--you are right," said Old Wheels, the lines in his face deepening. "Such a place is not fit for a young girl--so tender as my Lily is, too. I will take her from it soon." (Thinking: "I shall be able to, for the debt will soon be paid.")

"Although," added Gribble junior, scarcely heeding the old man's words, "to my thinking a music-hall's the jolliest place in the world. I could set all night and listen to the comic songs." And Gribble junior, to whom a music-hall was really a joy and a delight, hummed the chorus of a comic song as a proof of the correctness of his opinion; breaking off in the middle, however, with the remark, "Yes, Lily does look pale."

"And thin?" asked Old Wheels anxiously.

"And thin," assented Gribble junior. "But then we all of us have our pale days and our red days, and our thin days and our fat days, as a body might say. Look at me, now; I'm three stone heavier than I was four years ago. But I wasn't married then, and perhaps Mrs. J. G. has something to do with it--though she hasn't lost either, mind you! I was going to say something--what was it?" Here Gribble junior scratched his head. "O, I know. Well, when I said to Mrs. J. G., 'It's that music-hall,' she said, with a curl of the nose, though I didn't see it, for we were abed, 'You men's got no eyes,' which was news to me, and sounded queer too, for Mrs. J. G. don't generally speak to me in that way. 'You men's got no eyes,' she said; 'it's my belief that Lily is in love, and that makes her pale.' I don't often give in to Mrs. J. G., but I give in to her in this, and it's my opinion she's right. It's natural that girls, and boys too, should fall in love. Keep moving."

Thus Gribble junior rattled on for half an hour, being, as you know, fond of the sound of his own voice, while Old Wheels pondered over Mrs. Gribble junior's summing up of the cause of Lily's paleness, and wondered if she were right. "There is but one man whom I know," he thought, "Who is worthy of my pearl. I should be happy if this were so, and if he returned her love." Then he thought of Mr. Sheldrake, and of that gentleman's intimacy with Alfred, and the glimmer of light faded in that contemplation.

The following morning, as he and his grandchildren were sitting at breakfast, Alfred said,

"Lily, I've got a holiday to-day, and I'm going to take you to Hampton Court."

Lily's eyes sparkled; she looked up with a flush of delight. Old Wheels also looked at Alfred with an expression of gratification.

"Lily doesn't go out very often," continued Alfred; "it is a fine day, and the outing will do her good."

Lily, who was sitting close to Alfred, kissed his hand; the pleasure was all the greater because it was unexpected.

"It is kind of you, Alf," said Old Wheels, with a nod of approval, and with more cordiality in his manner towards his grandson than he had expressed for many a day; "Lily seldom gets an opportunity to breathe the fresh air. A run in the park will bring the roses in my darling's face again."

"Do I want them, grandfather?" asked Lily gaily.

Her face was bright with anticipation. Old Wheels looked at her fondly.

"Not now, my dear," he replied, "but you have been looking pale lately."

"You are too anxious about me, grandfather," said Lily affectionately; "I am very well. I think--I think--that you love me just a little bit too much." And she took his face between her hands, and kissed him, once, twice, thrice--making a rosebud of her mouth, as a little child might have done. He was delighted at her merry humour.

"I can't be that, darling," he said; "you are worthy of all the love that we can give you."

Alfred assented with, "That she is, grandfather."

"You are in a conspiracy to spoil me," said Lily, greatly elated. She was standing between them, holding a hand of each, and out of her affectionate nature and her gladness at their more cordial manner towards each other, she brought their hands together, and held them clasped within her own.

As the old man's fingers tightened upon those of his grandson, he thought that perhaps after all he was torturing himself unnecessarily, and, out of his hopes, he smiled and nodded affectionately at Alfred. Alfred smiled in return, but the next moment a shadow passed into his face. It did not rest there long; his lighter mood soon asserted itself.

"How soon shall we start, Alfred?" asked Lily.

"As soon as you can get dressed, Lil. It will be best to go early. Then we can have a ramble and a bit of dinner, and a row on the river, perhaps."

"That will be nice, and grandfather shall go with us."

Alfred's face became overclouded at the suggestion, and Old Wheels saw the cloud. Involuntarily his grasp of Alfred's hand relaxed.

"No, my dear," he said quickly; "I can't go with you. I have something to do at home. Run away now, and get dressed." Lily being gone, the old man continued, "I spared you the awkwardness of a refusal, Alfred; I saw that you would rather I should not accompany you."

"O, sir," was the reply, spoken with exceeding ill grace, "if you wish—"

"I don't wish, my boy. Why should I do anything to spoil Lily's enjoyment? and it would spoil her enjoyment if she noticed that you considered me an encumbrance."

"Of course it's me," exclaimed Alfred pettishly; "I thought I had had enough lecturing. I won't stand it much longer, and so I tell you."

"Don't quarrel, Alfred; Lily will be back presently, and we must do everything in our power to avoid giving her pain. I am glad that you are going to take her out. Can you afford it?"

"Afford it! I should think I could!" And Alfred rattled the money in his pocket.

Old Wheels sighed.

"Your wages at the office are still the same, Alfred--fifteen shillings a week?"

"Yes--the old skinflints! I don't believe I should be better off if I stopped there all my life."

"You seem to be well off, notwithstanding," observed the old man, with a grave look.

"You're going to preach again, I suppose!" exclaimed Alfred in a fretful tone. "A young fellow can't have a shilling in his pocket without being preached at. I tell you what it is, grandfather—"

But Alfred was prevented from telling his grandfather what it was by the entrance of Lily, who came in, dressed in her best, and looking as pretty and modest as any girl in England; and in a few moments brother and sister were in the streets, arm in arm.

The old man watched them from the window until they were out of sight. "I am glad my darling has gone to enjoy herself," he thought, but he could not keep back an uneasy feeling because she was away from him. He accounted for it by saying that old age was selfish; but that reflection brought no consolation to him. He went to the street door and stood there, and felt more than ordinarily pleased as he saw Felix turn the corner of the street.

"I have come on purpose to tell you something," said Felix, as they shook hands; "you know that I am looking out for something to do."

"Yes, Felix."

"The matter is difficult enough. I can't go to work as a shoemaker, or a carpenter, or a bricklayer, because I am Jack-of-no-trade, and don't know anything. I am neither this nor that, nor anything else. But last night there was a great fire not very far from here—"

"I read of it in the papers this morning."

"It occurred, as you know then, after midnight. I was there at the commencement of it, and saw it--saw the children and the mother standing in their night-dresses at the third-floor window--saw the flames surrounding them and creeping to them like fiery serpents--saw that fireman, God bless him! scale the ladder and rescue the poor things, nearly losing his life in the effort, spoke to him, shook hands with him, hurriedly got some particulars from him and the poor woman, and then—"

"Yes, and then," said Old Wheels, sharing Felix's excitement.

"Then went to the newspaper office with an account of the fire, which they inserted. What you read this morning was mine, and I feel quite proud of it. It is the first bit of real work I have ever done."

"It is beautifully done!" exclaimed Old Wheels. "Bravo, Felix!"

"That's what I said to myself, 'Bravo, Felix!' Why should not this lead to other things? And I am so elated that I came to ask you if you would come with me into the country for a few hours, somewhere close enough to this city of wonders to enable us to get back in the evening. It is a lovely day, and perhaps Lily will accompany you."

"Lily is not at home," said the old man thoughtfully, noticing the colour in Felix's face; "she has gone out with Alfred on just such a trip as you so kindly propose. She wanted me to come, but I have business at home and could not, so I cannot accompany you. If you are not fixed upon any place, why not go yourself to Hampton Court, where they have gone? You may meet them; I am sure Lily will be pleased to see you."

"I should like it above all things in the world," said Felix eagerly; "have they gone by themselves?"

"Yes."

Felix looked earnestly at the old man.

"Thank you, sir, a thousand times. I will go."

Old Wheels smiled to himself as he turned into the house, and sat down contentedly to his work--a cart which he was making for Pollypod. "I feel easier now," he said, as he worked.

But although Felix went down at once to Hampton Court, and strolled into the palace and the picture-gallery and over the gardens, and stood above the maze to see who were in it, he saw no signs of Lily or Alfred. This occupied him a couple of hours, and then he resolved to go into Bushy Park. "I ought to have gone there at first," he thought. He strolled into the beautiful grounds, and down the grand avenue with its lines of noble chestnut-trees. In the distance he saw a lady on a seat, and a gentleman standing by her. His sight, quickened by love, recognised Lily's form; but the man was not Alfred. He approached slowly, until he was near enough to distinguish more clearly, and a keen pang shot through him as he saw Lily sitting on the garden-seat, and Mr. David Sheldrake bending over her. Alfred was not in sight.