son, whom he had not seen for more than a year, turned his thoughts and feelings upon a different bent. He caught himself wishing that he could have him out here on Le Tas. The keen air, the free, out-of-door, wholesome life, would soon put health into the body, and colour into the pale little face, that rose so vividly before the father's mind. Another of the causes of dissension between Le Mesurier and Lily had been the system, inspired by Shergold, which she had rigorously insisted upon following in the training and education of the child. Every day had its regular set programme of lessons and of play; but the play consisted of formal exercise—"Calisthenics," as Shergold termed it—which at stated hours the boy was obliged to accomplish; so that, to his constrained young spirit, it no doubt became as irksome as a task. And then, Shergold, though a hearty consumer of butcher's meat in practice, was, in theory, a convinced vegetarian; and Lily, despite her husband's most earnest, most violent opposition, would allow little Phil no stronger nourishment than such as might be contained in beans and lentils.
Le Mesurier spoke aloud, impulsively. "Lily might send Phil to me for a few weeks, I think. It would do him all the good in the world. It is much healthier here than at Beaumont."
Shergold raised his eyebrows, and took a comprehensive glance round the unswept, uncleaned, undusted room.
"Oh, I'd have a woman in. I'd have all this set right," said the father, eagerly.
"You can hardly be serious," answered Shergold. "You know Lily's views. You could hardly expect her to let Phil stop here alone with you."
Le Mesurier flushed angrily.
"After all, he's my own child. If I chose to assert my rights—if I should insist on having him———"
