When she found time to think about him seriously, which was not very often, Mrs. Marlow was far from being satisfied as to Jimmy's doings or prospects. Someone had reported having seen him walking down Fleet Street late at night, looking ill and down at heel, and the news upset her. It was not pleasant to have these things said about one of the family, even though he, himself, might be entirely to blame for it. She would have asked him down to stay for a week-end, but for the fact that she did not want him to meet Ethel Grimmer again, having the feeling that he might tell that lady things which he would not confide to his own sister. But she took counsel with Ida, and, in the end, they decided that Walter Grierson was the right person to make an investigation.

Rather unwillingly, Walter undertook the task, or said he would undertake it, and, after consultation with his wife, who was not in the least interested, detesting both Ida and May, asked Jimmy down to stay, three or four days.

"I'm sure I haven't any desire to go," Jimmy said, as he read the letter to Lalage. Then he coughed a little and put his handkerchief to his mouth.

Lalage watched him with big, troubled eyes, not for the first time. "I think you had better go, dear," she said. "The change may do you good, and it'll take your mind off these stupid worries. I shall manage all right alone. I'm used to it, you see."

He took her words in the wrong sense, and glanced at her with sudden jealous suspicion, which she saw and strove hard to ignore. "You see, there's nothing urgent due just now," she went on, hurriedly, "and I've enough food in the house to last me out. If I get some condensed milk in, I can pretend we're both away."

Jimmy had the grace to feel ashamed of his own thoughts. "I must see you fixed up, sweetheart, of course, and, anyway, one night will be enough for me at Walter's. As for money, there will be a guinea and a half coming from the Sunday Echo to-morrow. It's their pay day, the second Friday."

But Lalage shook her head. "You must have that for a new pair of boots, Jimmy, and one or two little things. I can't let you go as you are. I only wish there had been more time, so that we could have saved enough for a new suit for you." She looked at his figure critically. "I know a place where they sell misfits very cheap, good ones, and you might get one to fit you. They would take my dinner dress in exchange, I'm sure."

"No, no." Jimmy leaned forward and kissed her hand. "I won't have that. I can manage, and if Mrs. Walter thinks I'm too shabby, she won't ask me again, which will be a relief."

Lalage sighed. "I hate to see you looking thin and ill and poor. It just breaks my heart." She gave a little sob. "But, oh, Jimmy dearest, when you get to your brother's big house, don't despise Lalage and our poor little place here; because we have been so happy in it, in spite of all our troubles."

He drew her to him, very gently. "That will never happen, dear. I won't go at all, if you're afraid of anything like that. I would much rather not go, anyway. You are all I want."

But she had her way in everything, save that he insisted on leaving her five shillings, in addition to laying in a stock of provisions.

"Really, I don't want any money," she said; "or a shilling at the most, in case I want to wire to you. Take the money, Jimmy, do; you will want a drink at the station, and that sort of thing."

He looked at her with shining eyes. "Do you ever think of yourself?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she laughed. "I want to make you happy, and then I'm happy, so really I'm selfish, after all."

In the end, Jimmy stayed three days at Walter's, and, if he did not actually enjoy himself, at least he was well content to be there. It was very refreshing to be away from all worries, to have no one asking you for money, to feel you could go out of the door without the fear of meeting some miserable creditor. There was plenty to eat, plenty to drink; and, even if he was not actually in sympathy with Walter and his ways, there was always the tie of blood between them. Mrs. Walter, too, made herself very pleasant. She had induced her husband to promise not to lend Jimmy any money, so she had nothing to fear from this brother-in-law; whilst, by getting on good terms with him otherwise, she might be able to use him as a pawn in her never-ending game against May and Ida.

Jimmy thought of Lalage frequently, wondering how she was getting on, and trying to persuade himself that he was anxious to get back to her; and yet, all the time, he was comparing his present surroundings with those of the flat, and dreading the return to the dreary struggle for existence, the hateful knockings at the door, the insolent refusal of goods without cash down, the feeling that you were always on thin ice, in the grip of the Council, the blackmailers, and the hire-purchase dealers, who did to you as they pleased, because they knew well that you dare not face the world openly. There was nothing like that at the Walter Griersons'. They lived as people of position ought to live, as he, Jimmy Grierson, might have lived, had he not been a fool. And then, suddenly, he thought of Lalage's unselfishness and courage and tried to tell himself that, after all, it was worth while. But still, he never felt as he had felt at Ida's, that fierce longing to be back at Lalage's side, to fight the world on her behalf. London had broken his nerve rapidly, and was now breaking his health. Somehow, things had changed. He longed for rest and comfort and security, such as his own people enjoyed.

Walter Grierson took his wife's advice and did not attempt to pry into Jimmy's affairs. "He is quite old enough to look after himself," Mrs. Walter said, "and I don't see why you should be private detective for May and Ida. I believe they would try and manage you, too, if I would let them. Oh, but they would, my dear. And yet I'm sure we have a better position than either of them. Joseph is very coarse at times, whilst you say yourself that you do not approve of several of Henry's companies." She scouted the idea that Jimmy looked unwell. "He's got a cold, that's all; and he smokes too much. Otherwise, he is well enough."

Walter sighed. "I wish he would go into something steady. I'm afraid he will never make an income at his present work."

Mrs. Walter shrugged her shoulders. "He wouldn't take your advice when he first came home, so he can't blame you whatever happens. May seems to be afraid he may make some foolish marriage, but I'm sure I see no signs of that. Of course, if he likes to be sensible and come to you for advice again, I should be pleased if you were able to find him work in the City; but, at present, you are not called upon to interfere. I am sure our own children come first."

Her husband sighed again. He was quite fond of this brother of whom he knew so little, but he never ran counter to his wife's wishes in family affairs; and so, when Jimmy's stay came to an end, he allowed Mrs. Walter to send May a vague, though generally satisfactory, report of their visitor and his doings, which had the result of staving off further inquiries for a time, at least.

"You look better, dear," Lalage said when Jimmy got back. "I knew the change would do you good. No, I've not been worried at all. Only, of course, it's been dull without you.... Are you going down to the club for letters? Well, be in to supper, won't you, dear? I've got something very nice for you."

"What is it?" he asked, smiling.

"You'll see," she answered. "If I don't tell you, you'll hurry home to find out. Otherwise, you may stay ever so late at that horrid old club."

The first man Jimmy met in the club was Douglas Kelly, newly returned from the Continent. Kelly listened attentively to his tale of ill-success, and when he had done, "I really don't see why you should be so down in the mouth, Jimmy," the elder man said. "I believe you've done better than most who start freelancing when they're new to Fleet Street. Why don't you try some magazine work? It's a better game than doing articles for the dailies."

Jimmy shook his head. "I have tried, but I don't seem to get the grip of a story. I suppose I've no inventive power."

"Rot," Kelly answered cheerfully. "It's because you're worrying, and you can't do that and write decent stuff. Have you tried for a job anywhere?"

The other nodded. "Half a dozen. But they all want experienced men, and, as things stand, I don't see how I'm ever going to get the experience."

"Would you do sub-editing?" Kelly asked. "It's not pleasant work, going through other people's copy, and so on; but it's good training. You would take anything? All right. I'll see Dodgson to-night. I know he was thinking of sacking one of the subs, and he might take you on. I'll leave a note here for you if I don't see you again. Of course, the pay is rotten, as I suppose you know."

Jimmy was so full of his conversation with Kelly that he had forgotten all about Lalage's promised surprise which was awaiting him at the flat. True, he hurried back, but she saw at once that it was to tell her his news, and not to find out what she had prepared for him; in fact, he sat down at the table, and was about to carve, before it struck him that the dinner was an unusually elaborate one; then, "How on earth did you manage it, sweetheart?" he asked.

She laughed. "How do you think? I schemed it out for a whole day, all on that five shillings you made me keep. I meant you to have it, and you see you've had to, after all."

The man flushed. "You are a brick," he said. "You haven't spent a penny on yourself, and yet I've been living on the fat of the land at Walter's. But this is better than anything they gave me there."

"That's right," she answered. "So long as you enjoy it, I don't mind all the trouble—so long as we enjoy it together, I meant. And now if you get this work perhaps the luck will change."