"Yes," smiled Mrs. Channing. "It has proved to me that my children are
loving and dutiful. Instead of repining, as some might, they are
already seeking how they may make up, themselves, for the money that
has not come. And Constance begins it."

"Don't fear us, mother," cried Hamish, with his sunny smile. "We will
be of more use to you yet than the money would have been."

They dispersed--Hamish to his office, Arthur to Mr. Galloway's, Tom and
Charles to the cloisters, that famous playground of the college school.
Stolen pleasures, it is said, are sweetest; and, just because there had
been a stir lately amongst the cathedral clergy, touching the
desirability of forbidding the cloisters to the boys for play, so much
the more eager were they to frequent them.

As Arthur was going down Close Street, he encountered Mr. Williams, the
cathedral organist, striding along with a roll of music in his hand. He
was Arthur's music-master. When Arthur Channing was in the choir, a
college schoolboy, he had displayed considerable taste for music; and
it was decided that he should learn the organ. He had continued to take
lessons after he left the choir, and did so still.

"I was thinking of coming round to speak to you to-day, Mr. Williams."

"What about?" asked the organist. "Anything pressing?"

"Well, you have heard, of course, that that suit is given against us,
so I don't mean to continue the organ. They have said nothing to me at
home; but it is of no use spending money that might be saved. But I see