Sidney Hinchford considered the warning somewhat of a strange one, and even for awhile did his uncle the half-injustice to believe that he spoke more in fear of Maurice "lowering" himself, than on account of his nephew forming expensive acquaintances. But Sid soon found the warning worth attending to. It happened, at times, that Sidney Hinchford had extra work after the bank was closed, and the majority of clerks had departed. His cousin Maurice, who always remained long after his father had gone—he rented apartments in London, whilst his father went off by train every afternoon to Red-Hill—did occasionally, in the early days of their acquaintance, come to Sid's desk and watch his labours for a few minutes, very intently.
"What are you going to do with yourself to-night, Sidney?"
"I am going home, Mr. Maurice."
"Come and dine with me at my club, and take pity upon my loneliness."
"Thank you—but my father will be expecting me home."
"Oh! the governor can't expect you, at your age, to be always turning up to five o'clock teas."
"You must excuse me, if you please."
"Well, if you'll give me one plain answer to the next question, I won't press it."
"I'll give it you."
"Isn't there a young lady your way, as well as the governor?"