his father's office. The Honourable Hilary was absorbed in his daily
perusal of the Guardian.

"Judge," he asked, "is Mr. Flint up at his place this week?"

The Honourable Hilary coughed.

"He arrived yesterday on the three. Er--why?"

"I wanted to go up and thank him for this," his son answered, holding up
the red piece of cardboard. "Mr. Flint is a very thoughtful man."

The Honourable Hilary tried to look unconcerned, and succeeded.

"Sent you an annual, has he? Er--I don't know as I'd bother him
personally, Austen. Just a pleasant note of acknowledgment."

"I don't flatter myself that my achievements in the law can be
responsible for it," said Austen. "The favour must be due to my
relationship with his eminent chief counsel."

Hilary Vane's keen eyes rested on his son for an instant. Austen was more
than ever an enigma to him.

"I guess relationship hasn't got much to do with business," he replied.
"You have be'n doing--er--better than I expected."

"Thank you, Judge," said Austen, quietly. "I don't mind saying that I
would rather have your approbation than--this more substantial
recognition of merit."