Dudley. "This afternoon I'm off again down to Datton, and I came to ask
whether you were coming down with me."

"I thought you had had a row, at least a misunderstanding of some sort,
with--with my father?"

"Why, yes, so I had," replied Dudley, serenely, as he took a newspaper
out of his pocket and folded it for reading. "But I've written to him
already this morning, explaining things, and telling him that I propose
to come down to The Beeches this evening. He'll get it before I turn up,
I should think, for I posted it at six o'clock this morning."

"Why, what were you doing at six o'clock in the morning?" said Max, in a
tone of bewilderment, as before. "Didn't you go to bed at all last
night?"

"No," answered Dudley, calmly. "I had some worrying things to think
about, and so I took the night to do it in."

A slight frown passed over his face as he spoke, but it disappeared
quickly, leaving him as placid as before.

"About one of the things I can consult you, Max. You know something
about it, I suppose. Do you think I have any chance with Doreen?"

Max stared at him again.

"You must be blind if you haven't seen that you have," he said, at last,
in a sort of muffled voice, grudgingly. He moved uneasily in his seat,
and added, in a hurried manner: "But, I say, you know, Dudley, after