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 tically earned the living his father thought it best to humour him. The old man was pleased to see Anthony, and they talked for a while about old days. Anthony explained his visit. It was the roof of the workshop that wanted repairing. Anthony went out again and round by the front way. The door was wide open, so that passing along the street one could see into the workshop. Matthew was repairing a bicycle. He had grown into a well-built good-looking young man. It was only about the eyes that one noticed anything peculiar. He recognized Anthony at once and they shook hands. Anthony was looking up at the roof when he heard a movement and turned round. A girl was sitting on a stool behind the open door. It was the very stool that Anthony himself had been used to sit upon as a child watching his father at his work. It was Miss Coomber. She held out her hand with a laugh.

"Father sent me out of the room last time I saw you," she said, "without introducing us. I am Eleanor Coomber. You are Mr. Anthony Strong'nth'arm, aren't you?"

"Yes," answered Anthony. "I heard you had returned to The Abbey."

"I was coming to see you—or rather Mr. John-