Walter Grierson took his wife's advice and did not attempt to pry into Jimmy's affairs. "He is quite old enough to look after himself," Mrs. Walter said, "and I don't see why you should be private detective for May and Ida. I believe they would try and manage you, too, if I would let them. Oh, but they would, my dear. And yet I'm sure we have a better position than either of them. Joseph is very coarse at times, whilst you say yourself that you do not approve of several of Henry's companies." She scouted the idea that Jimmy looked unwell. "He's got a cold, that's all; and he smokes too much. Otherwise, he is well enough."
Walter sighed. "I wish he would go into something steady. I'm afraid he will never make an income at his present work."
Mrs. Walter shrugged her shoulders. "He wouldn't take your advice when he first came home, so he can't blame you whatever happens. May seems to be afraid he may make some foolish marriage, but I'm sure I see no signs of that. Of course, if he likes to be sensible and come to you for advice again, I should be pleased if you were able to find him work in the City; but, at present, you are not called upon to interfere. I am sure our own children come first."
Her husband sighed again. He was quite fond of this brother of whom he knew so little, but he never ran counter to his wife's wishes in family affairs; and so, when Jimmy's stay came to an end, he allowed Mrs. Walter to send May a vague, though generally satisfactory, report of their visitor and his doings, which had the result of staving off further inquiries for a time, at least.
"You look better, dear," Lalage said when Jimmy got back. "I knew the change would do you good. No, I've not been worried at all. Only, of course, it's been dull without you.... Are you going down to the club for letters? Well, be in to supper, won't you, dear? I've got something very nice for you."
"What is it?" he asked, smiling.
"You'll see," she answered. "If I don't tell you, you'll hurry home to find out. Otherwise, you may stay ever so late at that horrid old club."
The first man Jimmy met in the club was Douglas Kelly, newly returned from the Continent. Kelly listened attentively to his tale of ill-success, and when he had done, "I really don't see why you should be so down in the mouth, Jimmy," the elder man said. "I believe you've done better than most who start freelancing when they're new to Fleet Street. Why don't you try some magazine work? It's a better game than doing articles for the dailies."
Jimmy shook his head. "I have tried, but I don't seem to get the grip of a story. I suppose I've no inventive power."
"Rot," Kelly answered cheerfully. "It's because you're worrying, and you can't do that and write decent stuff. Have you tried for a job anywhere?"