At length, however, he quieted down, and displayed no small aptitude for instruction, which was decidedly encouraging.
At the office Hawkesbury, ever since the uncomfortable meeting at his father's, had been very constrained in his manner to Jack and me, attempting no longer to force his society on us, and, indeed, relapsing into an almost mysterious reserve, which surprised more of those who knew him than our two selves.
As Doubleday said--who had never quite got over his sense of injury--"he had shut himself up with his petty-cash, and left us to get on the best we could without him." Smith and I would both, for his father's sake, have liked if possible to befriend him or do him a good turn.

But he seemed studiously to avoid giving us the opportunity, and was now as distant to us as we had once been to him.
However, in other respects our life at Hawk Street proceeded pleasantly enough, not the least pleasant thing being a further rise in both our salaries, an event which enabled me to set aside so much more every week to repay Flanagan his generous loan, as well as to clear myself finally of debt.
Things were going on thus smoothly, and it was beginning to seem as if the tide of life was set calm for both of us, when an event happened which once more suddenly stirred us to excitement and perturbation.
It was a Sunday evening, the evening preceding Jack's examination.

He had been working hard, too hard, night after night for weeks past, and was now taking a literal day of rest before his ordeal.

We were in our room with Mr Smith the elder, who was a regular Sunday visitor.

He had devoted whatever spare time he could give of late to Jack's preparations, "coaching" him in Latin and Greek, and reading with him Ancient History.