publication of the book, probably some six months hence. Of course
he merely threw out the suggestion--

"I shall be only too glad to help," exclaimed Piers at once. "You
shall have the money as soon as I get it."

"That's really noble of you, my dear boy--By the bye, let all this
be very strictly _entre nous_. To tell you the truth. I want to give
the dear old philosopher of Wensleydale a pleasant surprise. I'm
afraid he misjudges me; we have not been on the terms of perfect
confidence which I should desire. But this book will delight him, I
know. Let it come as a surprise."

Piers undertook to say nothing; and Daniel after washing his hands
and face, and smoothing his thin hair, was radiant with
gratification.

"Charming girl, Miss Derwent--eh, Piers? I seem to know the name
--Dr. Derwent? Why, to be sure! Capital acquaintance for you. Lucky
rascal, to have got into this house. Miss Hannaford, too, has
points. Nothing so good at your age, my dear boy, as the habit of
associating with intelligent girls and women. _Emollit mores_, and
something more than that. An excellent influence every way. I'm no
preacher, Piers, but I hold by morality; it's the salt of life--
the salt of life!"

At dinner, Daniel surpassed himself. He told admirable stories, he
started just the right topics, and dealt with them in the right way;
he seemed to know intuitively the habits of thought of each person
he addressed. The hostess was radiant; Olga looked almost happy;