Mrs. Higginbotham's look of interest gradually brightened into one of delighted agreement. "Oh, Peter," she said, "if you only could! Isn't it too late?"
"Not a bit," said Mr. Binney. "There's no limit of age. I found that out long ago. I could go up there and be treated in all respects as if I was five-and-twenty years younger than I am. And do you know, Martha," added the little man confidentially, "such is my freshness of mind that I believe in time I should come to believe that I was five-and-twenty years younger."
Mrs. Higginbotham looked at him in speechless admiration. "It would be lovely," she said. "What an interest I should take in your doings, Peter!"
This speech was as a spark to the tinder of Mr. Binney's inclinations. "If you think about it like that, Martha, I'll do it," he cried delightedly. "And now I must be getting home. I'll have a talk to Lucius about it to-night, and come and tell you what I have decided to-morrow."
Mr. Binney took a tender farewell of Mrs. Higginbotham, and left her to spend the evening in roseate dreams of returning youth and a wider horizon than that visible from her windows in Woburn Square.
CHAPTER II
MR. BINNEY INTERVIEWS ONE TUTOR AND ENGAGES ANOTHER
Mr. Binney and his son sat over their wine that evening in the seclusion of the dining-room in Russell Square. Mr. Binney had been somewhat silent during dinner, thinking over the disclosure he was about to make. Somehow, now that it came to the point, he felt a certain diffidence in mentioning it. Lucius also had something to say, but waited until the servants were out of the room.
"I say, father," he said, when they were left alone, "I've ordered a new pair of patent leather boots from Peal's, and asked them to send the bill in to you."