Invitation To Social Research How Its Done 5th Edition Adler Test Bank All Chapters

Invitation to Social Research How Its
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1. The strategy of how data will be collected is referred to as the
a. hypothesis.
b. manipulation.
c. study design.
d. control.
e. causality.
ANSWER: c
REFERENCES: page 154
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: AISR.ADLE.15.07.01 - Understand study design
2. Decisions about study design are based partly on

a. the use of theory.
b. the researcher’s interest.
c. the purpose of the research.
d. whether or not a causal hypothesis will be tested.
e. all of these influence decisions about study design.
ANSWER: e
3. Cross-sectional research
a. is the most widely used type of research.
b. is the least used type of research.
c. generally has large samples.
d. typically uses qualitative analysis.
e. is both the most widely used type of research and generally has large samples.
ANSWER: e
4. A study examining how attitudes about smoking influence other health behaviors, executed by surveying a random
sample of city residents during the month of August is an example of
a. longitudinal research.
b. experimental research.
c. cross-sectional research.
d. case study research.
e. questionnaire research.
ANSWER: c
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: AISR.ADLE.15.07.04 - Know the limitations of cross-sectional designs for testing
causal hypotheses
5. When a researcher believes that two variables are related in a causal way, she will be interested in manipulating the
a. dependent variable.
b. independent variable.
c. causal variable.
d. both the independent variable and the causal variable.
e. no variables are manipulated
ANSWER: d
causal hypotheses
6. Cross-sectional designs are often used to

a. obtain an in-depth description on one case within its social context.
b. test causal hypotheses.
c. observe a change over time.
d. obtain an in-depth description on one case within its social context and to observe a
change over time.
e. none of these describe cross-sectional designs.
ANSWER: b
causal hypotheses
7. If we are interested in establishing that two variables are related in a causal way (A causes B), three conditions
must be satisfied. Among the following items, which is not a factor in this determination?
a. A and B must be the result of another variable, C.
b. A must occur prior to B.
c. As A changes, so does B.
d. If B changes, A will change as well.
e. If C changes, A will change as well.
ANSWER: a
REFERENCES: page 157-158
causal hypotheses
8. Which of the following is not a condition needed to establish causality?
a. There needs to be an empirical association between the independent and dependent variable.
b. The relationship between variables has to be spurious.
c. Temporal precedence needs to be established.
d. The relationship between variables has to be nonspurious.
e. All of these are conditions needed to establish causality.
ANSWER: b
causal hypotheses
9. The focal research, Moving On? Continuity and Change after Retirement by Adler and Clark utilized what kind
of study design?
a. panel
b. cross-sectional
c. trend
d. longitudinal
e. both panel and longitudinal
ANSWER: e
10. If you were conducting research using a cross-section design with retrospective questions about childhood and
adolescent years to young people in their twenties, you
a. should yield consistent results.
b. may find this problematic regarding the accuracy of people’s answers about what they felt or did years
before.
c. will have problems with internal validity.
d. will have problems with internal validity and may find it problematic regarding the accuracy of people’s
answers about what they felt or did years before.
e. none of these.
ANSWER: d
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: AISR.ADLE.15.07.03 - Recognize advantages and disadvantages of each
nonexperimental design
11. If we were interested in how individuals’ attitudes about smoking marijuana change from adolescence to adulthood,
marriage and parenthood, the most appropriate study design would be
a. longitudinal.
b. case study.
c. cross-sectional.
d. surveys.
e. questionnaires.
ANSWER: a
causal hypotheses
12. Longitudinal research requires data collection at at least different times.

a. two
b. three
c. four
d. ten
e. twelve
ANSWER: a
causal hypotheses
13. What is one way to combat issues of internal validity?

a. Do not ask people about things that occurred in the past.
b. Conduct longitudinal studies versus cross-sectional studies.
c. Never conduct a cross-sectional design.
d. Conduct longitudinal studies versus cross-sectional studies AND do not ask people
about things that occurred in the past.
e. Issues of internal validity cannot be avoided.
ANSWER: d
14. For non-experimental study designs, the approach that will likely optimize our ability to understand how the attitudes
of particular individuals change over time is the
a. case study.
b. panel study.
c. trend study.
d. cross-sectional study.
e. none of these.
ANSWER: b
causal hypotheses
15. The longitudinal nature of panel studies allows researchers to

a. document patterns.
b. establish time order sequences.
c. take “snapshot” photographs of a particular moment in time.
d. document patterns and establish time order sequences.
e. all of these.
ANSWER: d
16. In conducting longitudinal research, a panel design has several advantages. These include
a. an ability to do research at a low cost.
b. an ability to track individuals over the course of time.
c. an ability to collect data that reflects immediate experience rather than relying on
individual memory.
d. both the ability to track individuals over the course of time and the ability to collect data
that reflects immediate experience rather than relying on individual memory.
e. all of these.
ANSWER: d
causal hypotheses
17. Study A involves two samples from the same population that are surveyed at two different times. Study B involved
collecting data from the same sample over two time periods. Study A is a study and Study B is a
study.
a. cohort; panel
b. cross-sectional; case
c. trend; panel
d. longitudinal; cross-sectional
e. case; cohort
ANSWER: c
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: AISR.ADLE.15.07.02 - Identify and compare cross-sectional, panel, trend, cohort, and
case study designs
18. If we are obtaining data from the same sample at two or more points in time, it is likely that it will be impossible to
locate some of the sample members for follow-up interviews. This is known as
a. panel fatigue.
b. panel mortality.
c. panel attrition.
d. panel measurement failure.
e. cross-sectional failure.
ANSWER: c
causal hypotheses
19. Panel conditioning is

a. the loss of subjects from a study because of disinterest, death, illness, or inability to
locate them.
b. the effect of repeatedly measuring variables on members of a panel study.
c. the effect of emotions on behavior over time.
d. the effect of panelists on the researcher.
e. both the loss of subjects from a study because of disinterest, death, illness, or ability to
locate them and the effect of emotions on behavior over time.
ANSWER: b
20. The advantage of trend studies is that they
a. avoid panel attrition.
b. avoid panel conditioning.
c. save the expense of finding the original participants.
d. enable the researcher to collect data anonymously.
e. All of these are advantages to trend studies.
ANSWER: e
21. A trend design collects data at different times from

a. the same sample.
b. different samples.
c. the same or different samples depending on the purpose of the research.
d. a panel specifically assembled for this purpose.
e. the same samples over time.
ANSWER: b
causal hypotheses
22. As we administer the same survey to panel members on several occasions, there is a chance they will be affected
by the questions. This is known as
a. panel fatigue.
b. panel learning.
c. panel conditioning.
d. panel attrition.
e. questionnaire familiarity.
ANSWER: c
causal hypotheses
23. Trend studies are disadvantageous because

a. they cannot identify changes in individuals.
b. they cannot pinpoint the cause of changes.
c. they do not study the impact of time periods.
d. they cannot identify changes in individuals and they cannot pinpoint the cause of changes.
e. None of these are reasons why trend studies are disadvantageous.
ANSWER: d
24. A cohort is a group of people who
a. don’t mind answering surveys.
b. are all likely to provide the same answers to survey questions.
c. have an event or experience in common.
d. are likely to be very difficult to track for follow up surveys.
e. meet at least once a year.
ANSWER: c
causal hypotheses
25. If we are interested in learning about how social and economic elites influence decision making in one city and will
rely upon census data, newspaper accounts, interviews, and surveys to do this research, we are relying on the
study design.
a. case
b. non-experimental
c. trend
d. longitudinal
e. questionnaire
ANSWER: a
causal hypotheses
26. If we are interested in generating new theoretical perspectives in an area where little research has been done, we
would most likely use
a. a panel study.
b. a case study.
c. a cross-sectional study.
d. a trend study.
e. applied research.
ANSWER: b
causal hypotheses
27. If we were interested in testing the relationship between cigarette advertising and cigarette smoking by teenagers, a
study design that would be least appropriate would be
a. a panel study.
b. a case study.
c. a cross-sectional study.
d. a trend study.
e. None of these would be appropriate.
ANSWER: b
28. The case studies that have become social science classics describe specific people and places, but
a. also provide a sense of understanding about general categories of the social world.
b. lack generalizability.
c. have been particularly weak at generating new ideas and theories.
d. are not particularly appropriate for exploratory or descriptive purposes.
e. both lack generalizability and have been particularly weak at generating new ideas and
theories.
ANSWER: a
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: AISR.ADLE.15.07.05 - Design cross-sectional, panel, trend, cohort, and case studies
for specific research purposes
29. A study design must balance ethical, practical, and methodological issues.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
30. If a researcher has a good idea about how one variable affects another, she will be interested in testing a causal
hypothesis.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
31. One of the potential problems with longitudinal research is keeping in contact with respondents over time and
keeping their information confidential.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
32. A cross-sectional research design relies on obtaining data from a cross-section of the population over several points
in time.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
case study designs
33. Temporal precedence is a necessary condition for longitudinal studies.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
34. An antecedent variable is one that is responsible for change in the independent variable only.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
causal hypotheses
35. The focal research example on retirement by Adler and Clark utilized a cross-sectional study design.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
case study designs
36. Asking respondents about past events can create issues regarding external validity.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
37. One advantage of longitudinal study designs is being allowed to document patterns of change over time.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
38. In a panel design, researchers assemble a panel of experts and ask them about opinions on a topic of interest.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
case study designs
39. If a respondent dies between two data collections, she has contributed to panel fatigue.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
40. A real advantage of case study designs is the fact that we can generalize from these findings to other settings.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
41. When a case is selected because of its uniqueness for a study, Robert Stake calls this an intrinsic case study.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
case study designs
42. Case studies do not suffer from issues of causation.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
43. Identify and explain the major challenges to doing research using longitudinal study designs.
ANSWER: Not provided

44. What must be established to prove that variables are causally related?

REFERENCES: pages 167-168
causal hypotheses
45. Explain the difference between a panel study and a cohort study.

REFERENCES: pages 167, 171
case study designs
46. Consider the following variables: age, marital status, income, and educational attainment. Develop a hypothesis with
at least two of the variables. Then, design a cross-sectional and a longitudinal study to test your hypothesis.

47. What are some good reasons to conduct a case study?

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drove away from the house without any interference with his actions. A
new life was about to dawn for him.
He felt strange upon reaching the hotel and engaging his room. He had
very little acquaintance with hotels of any kind, save, perhaps, when he had
stayed at the seaside in the company of his relations. John Clithero was
quite suburban in his ideas of the annual holiday. It was a new experience,
then, for Mostyn to find himself alone and independent in one of London's
huge caravansaries, and it was not altogether without its element of charm.
He felt himself that evening more the man than he had ever done in his
life before; the whole world was before him, and he had to carve out his
own path through it.
He dined alone, in the great restaurant, but he was too excited to take
any particular notice either of the food that was put before him or of the
smart crowd by which he was surrounded. He was anxious for the time to
pass so that he might wend his way to the Imperial Club, which was in Pall
Mall, and so not very far away, and there talk over the whole matter with
Pierce Trelawny. He fancied that Pierce might have friends dining with him,
and so he did not like to intrude himself too early at the club.
It was ten o'clock when he gave his name to the hall porter and asked to
see Mr. Trelawny. Pierce came to him immediately. His friends had just
taken their departure, for they were due at the Empire, where the Derby
crowd was sure to collect in force. All of which Pierce explained before he
had time to notice how pale and distressed Mostyn appeared.
"It's jolly lucky you found me, Mostyn," he said heartily, "for I might
have gone out in another ten minutes. But what on earth has brought you
round to the club at this time of the night? I never thought you would have
been allowed such a dissipation."
"Take me somewhere where we can have a quiet talk," Mostyn said

huskily. "There has been trouble, Pierce, and I want to tell you all about it."
Pierce glanced quickly into his friend's face and realised that there must
indeed have been trouble. "Poor old chap!" he exclaimed. "I was blind not
to see that there was something wrong. Come along up to the smoking-
room; we can find a corner, and you shall tell me all about it."
As they were about to set their feet on the broad staircase they were
buttonholed by Captain Armitage, who was coming downstairs to the hall.
He laid a hand upon an arm of each of the young men—almost as if to
support himself—and began to talk hoarsely of the day's racing.
"I dropped a pot," he muttered. "Infernal bad luck! Didn't even back
Hipponous. Lost my money in backing old Rory's horses so often that I
couldn't think his luck was going to turn. Damnable—what?"
It was some moments before Pierce could shake him off; then, as the two
young men continued their way up the stairs, Pierce commented in no
unmeasured terms upon Captain Armitage as a member of the club.
"The fellow makes himself a general nuisance," he grumbled. "He's

always hanging over the tape, and forces his conversation upon everyone
who happens to come near him. He belongs to the genus 'club bore.' The
waiters hate him, too, for he gives endless trouble and never subscribes a
cent to any of the servants' funds. Then he is always half-screwed; it's lucky
that he doesn't live in town, for if he did he would spend the whole of his
time at the club."
"How did he get in?" asked Mostyn, for the sake of saying something.
"Oh, he was quite a decent sort in his younger days," returned Pierce,
"and it's for the sake of old times that my uncle and other good-natured
people put up with him. Then they are sorry for his daughter, Rada—she
has quaint ways—but they suit her somehow."
"Do they?" Mostyn spoke the words viciously, upon a tone of doubt:
from his experience of that afternoon he was not at all inclined to attribute
virtues to Rada. He felt, indeed, that he disliked her intensely.
They installed themselves in a recess of the smoking-room, and Pierce,

summoning the waiter, ordered a couple of brandy-and-sodas, though it was
only after considerable persuasion that Mostyn could be induced to touch
spirits. He was not a teetotaler, as his brothers professed to be, but the
habits of his home-life dominated him. It was necessary for Pierce to point
out that a stimulant was palpably required, and that Mostyn must look upon
it as a medicine.
Pierce Trelawny was possessed of a rather dominant manner. He was not

built upon such a large scale as Mostyn, though he was well made and
athletic. He was equally at home plodding muddy fields with his gun, riding
to hounds, or as a young man about town. He had dark hair, very carefully
parted on the left side, thin, refined features, and his dress was always
immaculately correct in cut and style. He enjoyed a liberal allowance from
his father—a good old country squire—and upon the death of the latter he
would inherit a property of very considerable importance. He had no
profession, finding life quite full enough without one.
Mostyn made no further objection, but took a long draught from the tall
tumbler when it was set before him. The piece of ice that floated on the
liquid was cool against his lips, and he liked the touch of it.
And so, a little fresh colour creeping into his cheeks, he told his story,
and Pierce listened attentively, with only an occasional interruption, an
interruption that usually took the form of some muttered comment by no
means flattering to Mr. John Clithero.
"He's an impossible man, your father," Pierce exclaimed when Mostyn

had concluded, "And the ghastly part of it is that he is quite sincere, fully
convinced that he is in the right and that all the world who disagree with
him are in the wrong. In a way he's just like my old uncle with his Tory
politics. Your father is stubborn and pig-headed in a different and
unpleasant direction; that's all there is between them."
"He killed my mother; he bullied her to death. My brothers are his idea
of rectitude. That's the kind of man my father is." Mostyn spoke bitterly, as
he felt. Never before in his life had he allowed himself to breathe a word
against his father, whatever his own feelings may have been; but it was
different now.
He gulped down one or two mouthfuls of his brandy-and-soda, then
glanced up at his friend, who appeared lost in thought. "I'm not only
worrying about myself, Pierce," he said. "It was Cicely who asked me to see
you this evening. You see it is quite possible"—he broke off, hardly
knowing how to explain himself.
"I see it is." Pierce drummed his fingers restlessly on the ornate little
table before him. "Your father knows I induced you to go to the Derby, and
he may forbid Cicely to see me again. I'm inclined to think that that's what
is going to happen." He frowned, staring at his tumbler. "Of course, I shan't
give her up," he went on, "but things may pan out badly for us. My old dad
hates your father, and he was wild when he knew that I had fallen in love
with a Clithero. I don't know how he'll take it if there should be any
opposition on your father's side. He likes Cicely, so he may tell me to go
ahead and marry her, or he may say that it's a good thing for me the
engagement is broken off. Cicely is under age, too, and won't be free to do
as she likes for another year. It's a devil of a mess: anyway, I shall see Mr.
Clithero first thing to-morrow morning and have it out with him," he added
with decision; "and I rather think the interview will be a stormy one." He
pursed up his lips, thinking that he was perhaps better able than Mostyn to
hold his own with the redoubtable John Clithero.
"What about yourself, Mostyn?" he asked, after a pause. "It strikes me

I've been selfish, thinking of my own troubles, which may or may not
eventuate, while you've got a very real one to face. In some ways it may be
for the best, for you had a rotten time at home, and the row was bound to
come sooner or later. I don't know how you and Cicely were ever born in
the Clithero family," he added sapiently. "You are not like the rest of them,
and so I suppose you must have got the blood of some more sporting
ancestor in your veins. But what do you mean to do?" he went on; "for I
don't suppose you have any idea of making up the quarrel?"
Mostyn shook his head. "No," he replied. "I'm going to fight for myself.
Unfortunately I don't think I'm good for much. Of course, I shall have to
give up the Bar."
"That's a pity," mused Pierce; "why should you?"

"I've got no money of my own except a hundred in the bank. My father
won't give me another penny, so I must just put my shoulder to the wheel."
"A clerk on a pound a week, or something ridiculous of that sort," said

Pierce half derisively. "That won't do for you, Mostyn. But you needn't
worry your head about it; I'll get my father or my uncle to find you
something more suitable: I've got plenty of influential friends."
For a moment Mostyn made no answer, but once more lifted his tumbler
to his lips; when he spoke it was with decision. "No," he said. "It's awfully
good of you, Pierce, and I haven't the smallest doubt that you could do as
you say, but there is nothing that your father or your uncle could give me—
nothing well paid, at any rate—that I should be fit for. It would be just the
same as taking charity."
Pierce was loud in his protest against such principles as these, but he
argued in vain. Mostyn had quite made up his mind; he had thought it all
over during his solitary dinner, and had decided upon his course of action.
He would accept help from no one. He would undertake no work unless it
was such as he conscientiously felt he was able to perform. Of course, he
had not forgotten Anthony Royce; but if it was money that the latter
proposed to offer him, money to be expended upon racing, then, in the light
of the present position, Mostyn did not see his way to accept. What, after
all, did his foolish words spoken upon the coach matter? They were uttered
in a moment of heat, and no one would remember them. He had to think of
earning his living now: he had probably been to his first and last race
meeting.
He had decided to try his luck with journalism; he had an aptitude for
writing, and he had a friend who was on the staff of an important London
paper. He would look up Arden Travers on the morrow and take the
journalist's advice as to the proper manner of setting to work.
Pierce expressed his opinion that this was a grievous folly, but at the
same time he could not help admiring Mostyn's pluck. There was, at any
rate, no harm in trying. So nothing was said on the subject of help to be
provided from outside sources, and the two young men parted at about half-
past eleven, after making an appointment to meet the following evening,
when Mostyn would report how he had got on with his journalist friend,
and Pierce would relate the result of his interview with John Clithero.
As he was about to leave the club, Mostyn was accosted by Captain

Armitage, who was still hovering about the hall.
"Are you going? That's a good thing, for I'm just off, too." The captain's
voice had grown still more husky, and he dragged his feet across the stone
floor with a shambling gait; nevertheless, he was quite master of himself.
"I'm glad I caught sight of you," he said with assumed geniality of tone,
"for I was going away by myself, and I hate being alone. We'll walk
together a bit, my young friend, and you shall tell me of your ambitions to
run race-horses and to win the Derby." He chuckled as he spoke, with an
irritating noise in the depth of his throat, and he passed his arm under
Mostyn's, leaning heavily upon it.
"I'm not going far," Mostyn said shortly; "only to Northumberland

Avenue. Perhaps I'd better help you into a cab."
The old man shook his head. "I want a little fresh air first," he mumbled.
"It does me good to walk part of the way home, and I love the London
streets at this time of night." He waved his free hand. "It's life," he
chuckled, "and it makes me think of the days when I was a boy and full of
life. It's too early to go home yet."
"Where do you live?" asked Mostyn.
"Bloomsbury," was the muttered answer. "Lodgings—a dirty hole; not fit
for a gentleman to live in—not fit for a girl like Rada. People don't know
where we stay when we are in London; I keep it dark." As a matter of fact,
everybody who knew Captain Armitage knew that his lodgings were of the
poorest; he made the same confession to everybody, when, as was usually
the case towards night, he exchanged the braggart for a sort of maudling
sentimentality. By day he was the old soldier, a man who was as good as
any in the land—his swagger was proverbial; at night, or after an
exaggerated bout of drinking, his mood would change, and it was sympathy
for which he craved. There was nothing he enjoyed more at such times than
to dwell upon his bye-gone sins.
"Walk with me a little way, at any rate," he urged. "There is something I

should like to tell you."
So Mostyn complied, his good-nature compelling him; and Captain

Armitage, with palpable enjoyment, recounted his tale of woe. Of course, it
was false for the best part: the man was a failure through drink, a fact that
was plainly writ upon his mottled and congested cheeks, which contrasted
so forcibly with his fine white beard and moustache. Certainly, he had
sufficient means to indulge his passion for the racecourse, though none but
himself knew if it was upon this, and this alone, that he spent his income.
Mostyn felt constrained to remonstrate. "I didn't think you were in such
desperate straits, Captain Armitage," he said. "What about Castor?"
"Ah!" The old man drew himself up with a sudden jerk. "You remind
me: that's just what I wanted to talk about. Castor's my horse, a two-year
old; you wouldn't find a better if you searched the United Kingdom from
end to end. Old Rory's Pollux isn't in it with the colt. A Derby winner, sir, if
I know anything about racing. Well, I can sell Castor if I think fit." He
glanced meaningly at Mostyn as he spoke.
"Why would you sell Castor if you feel so sure about him?" queried
Mostyn, "There may be a fortune in the horse."
"Perhaps, but I'm broke—broke to the world; things have been going
precious bad with me lately." The old man tapped Mostyn on the arm with
his bony knuckle. "Now, there's you," he continued, "a young man of
promise, a sportsman in embryo, keen as they make 'em. You were saying
to-day that you wanted to win a big race. Well, here's your chance. You can
have Castor for a song, a mere song. What do you say to fifteen hundred
pounds?" He leered insinuatingly. "It's the chance of a lifetime."
Mostyn laughed aloud. Fifteen hundred pounds! He who had but a tithe
of that sum in the world. However, Captain Armitage was hardly to be
blamed for the error into which he had fallen, for Mostyn had certainly
contrived to give a false impression that day. It was all due to that absurd
enthusiasm of his.
"I shall never own race-horses," he said humbly. "I've got no money for
such things. I was only saying what I felt, not because I hoped ever to do it
really."
Captain Armitage's hand dropped from Mostyn's arm. His jaw fell and
he muttered something in his beard. He was annoyed at having been
deceived; he had taken Mostyn for a young man of wealth and position, or
he would not have wasted his breath upon him.
"Then it was bluff?" he said curtly.
"Call it what you like." Mostyn was not prepared to argue the point. "It's
certainly true that I have no intention whatever of going in for racing."
Once again Captain Armitage muttered in his beard, and Mostyn was
quite assured that the remark was not complimentary to himself. They
walked on a few paces almost in silence, then suddenly the captain turned
his head, and muttering, "There's a friend of mine; so long!" waved his hand
airily and was hidden in the crowd that thronged the street. Mostyn stood
still, and after a moment or so, he saw the unmistakable figure of his
military friend disappearing, unaccompanied, under the flaming portals of a
public-house.
Mostyn found himself standing alone close to the brilliantly-lit entrance

of a well-known music hall, through the doors of which a crowd was
pouring out, the entertainment being just concluded. He had never been
inside a music hall in his life, and, indeed, the whole aspect of the streets at
this time of night was new to him. Tired as he was he watched the scene
with interest. Here was Life, as it was understood by most young men of his
age.
Over-dressed men and under-dressed women passed across the pavement

to the cabs, broughams, or motors which were summoned for them by the
liveried messengers. Mostyn, as he stood crowded against the shuttered
window of a shop, could see the bare shoulders, insufficiently covered by
rich opera cloaks, the glint of jewels, the flushed faces; his nostrils received
the vague impression of perfume; his ears were pierced by shrill whistling,
by the roar of traffic, by the shouting and laughter, by all the discord—or
was it harmony?—of a London night. And ceaselessly the restless crowd of
the street surged to and fro: all manner of man and woman—the satisfied
and the hungry, the well-clad and the ragged, the joyful and the sad.
It was a different aspect of life from that which he had studied earlier in
the day, and it was another emotion that stirred him as he watched. For was
it not well that a man should see all sides, that he should judge for himself?
The policy of repression, that which he had known all his life long—John
Clithero's policy—now, more than ever, Mostyn saw the fallacy of it. The
thing forbidden has a fascination which blinds the eyes to its danger; wilful
ignorance may engender excess. Mostyn knew what it was to struggle with
temptation, but his sense of honour and duty had held him in check. A
weaker nature might easily have succumbed. As he watched, he reflected
upon the attraction which this scene had had for his imagination; but he was
not so sure that he felt the same about it now.
By the curb stood a woman clad in the Salvation Army dress. She spoke
to many, but was rudely repulsed. A stout young man, whose face Mostyn
had not seen, was assisting a smartly-dressed woman into the hansom
which had been summoned for him. The Salvation Army girl approached
him. She lifted her arms and extended them straight out to the right and left,
finally bringing them forward and pressing them together as if she were
striving against a great weight. In that gesture she seemed to concentrate
upon one man alone all the veiled sin, the careless folly of the scene.
"Man," she cried appealingly, "behold thy handiwork!"
He repulsed her roughly, muttering an oath. He pushed her from him into
the gutter. Mostyn sprang forward, fearing that she would fall, and at that
moment, as he dragged her back to the pavement, he caught a glimpse of
the face of the young man who had acted so brutally.
There could be no mistaking those pale, pasty cheeks, nor the thin
streaks of nondescript coloured hair hanging over the forehead—it was
Mostyn's brother Charles—Charles, whose idea of honour had impelled him
to play the part of tale-bearer and slanderer.
Recognition was mutual. For one moment Charles stood staring at

Mostyn in petrified dismay, then, without a word, he plunged after his
companion into the hansom and was whirled away.
As the cab drove off, Mostyn laughed aloud. He was not really surprised.
He had often had his suspicions of Charles in this particular direction,
though he had never voiced them. Charles professed to be keenly interested
in some East End Mission work, and it was understood that he stayed
occasionally with his friend who conducted the Mission. Mostyn
remembered that he had arranged to be absent that particular evening. Well
—it all fell in with Mostyn's reflections. Charles was a weaker spirit, and he
had yielded to temptation—yielded dishonourably, hiding his weakness
behind a lie.
Mostyn was not vindictive by nature, but he was human enough to be

glad that Charles had recognised him. Charles—judging according to his
own nature—would certainly conclude that his brother would retaliate upon
him, and he would suffer accordingly. "Serve him right, too," was Mostyn's
reflection. "Charles won't enjoy being found out—and by me. I hope his
conscience will prick him—the sneak!"
"Paper, captain? last extry speshul?" A small newsboy, keen-eyed and

ragged, thrust his wares before Mostyn, who fumbled in his pocket and
produced a coin. He did not really want a paper, but he thought the lad
looked tired and hungry. He folded his purchase, thrust it away, and forgot
all about it till he was back at the hotel and in the solitude of his own room.
As he undressed he scanned the pages carelessly, his thoughts in reality

far away. But suddenly an item of intelligence, under the stop-press news
attracted his attention. He carried the paper under the electric light, and,
with a gasp of dismay and genuine regret, perused the paragraph.
"At a late hour to-night, intelligence has come to hand of a fatal accident
to the well-known American financier and explorer, Mr. Anthony Royce.
Particulars are still wanting, but Mr. Royce's death is reported to be due to a
motor-car mishap."
The paper dropped from Mostyn's hand. Anthony Royce, in whose

company he had been that very afternoon, who had evinced so much
interest in him for the sake of his dead and gone mother—who had
instigated Mostyn's wild speech about winning a Derby—Anthony Royce
had met with a sudden and tragic death!
Whatever scheme may have been in the financier's mind, whatever the
suggestion that he wished to propose to Mostyn, here was an end to it all.
Anthony Royce had carried his plan with him to the grave.
CHAPTER VI.
MOSTYN IS PUT ON HIS METTLE.
Some four or five days later, Mostyn found himself in the private office
of Mr. Gilbert Chester, head partner in the well-known firm of Chester and
Smithers, solicitors. He had received a mysterious letter from the firm,
requesting him to attend that day upon a matter of the utmost importance to
himself—a matter which would be explained in full when he visited the
office.
The letter had necessarily reached him in a round-about way, for it had
originally been addressed to his father's house in Bryanston Square, and had
then been sent on to him to his lodgings—for he had allowed no delay
before settling himself in an unpretentious apartment—by Cicely, to whom
he had confided his address, and who had seen to it that the rest of his
personal belongings had been packed and delivered up to him. Mostyn had
at first imagined that the solicitors may have had some communication to
make to him on behalf of his father, but this would have been strange, for
the latter had never employed the firm of Chester and Smithers.
As he sat with other waiting clients in the outer office, Mostyn reviewed
the circumstances of the last few days. These had been anything but
satisfactory, and, indeed, he had already made a great gap in that hundred
pounds of his, for he had remembered certain debts to tradesmen which it
was incumbent on him to pay since he wished to begin his new life with a
clean sheet.
He was very disappointed—he had found that his journalist friend was
not in London, having been sent to Scotland to report a big case at
Edinburgh; it might be a week before he returned. In the meanwhile
Mostyn, in his humble lodgings, was occupying himself by studying
journalism according to the rules laid down in certain books which he had
purchased, and which professed to give complete instruction in the art. He
varied this by visits to the British Museum, which was close at hand, with
some vague idea in his mind that this was a spot he would have to frequent
in the future, and that it was well to get accustomed to it at once.
As he had feared, matters had gone wrong, too, with Cicely and Pierce.
The latter had lost no time in visiting John Clithero. There had been an
angry scene between the two men, and Pierce had been incontinently shown
the door. Mr. Clithero had declared that he would never give his consent to
his daughter's marriage with such a man as Pierce Trelawny while he had
any say in the matter, and if Cicely chose to disobey him—well, it would be
at her own risk.
Under these circumstances, Pierce had decided to go and see his father,
who lived at Randor Park, in Worcestershire. What the result of this visit
would be was an open question, and as yet Mostyn had received no news,
though his friend had been gone a couple of days.
At last Mostyn was summoned to the presence of the great man. Mr.
Chester received him with peculiar warmth.
"I am glad you have taken an early opportunity of seeing us, Mr.
Clithero," so Mr. Chester began. He always spoke of himself as "we" or
"us," though, indeed, Mr. Smithers, the other partner of the firm, had long
since retired. "We have some very important intelligence for you." He
cleared his throat with a little suggestive cough. "Very important indeed."
"Indeed?" said Mostyn interrogatively, seating himself in a chair

indicated to him by the solicitor. "I am very much in the dark, Mr. Chester."
"The matter concerns the testamentary disposition"—Mr. Chester was

very precise in speech—"of our late client, Mr. Anthony Royce." The
solicitor toyed with his gold-mounted glasses as he spoke, and stared hard
at his visitor.
"Mr. Royce?" Mostyn repeated the name in amazement. "Why, I only

met Mr. Royce once," he stammered, "and that was on the day of his death."
"Nevertheless you have an interest—a very considerable interest indeed

—in Mr. Royce's will, and this will, or, rather, codicil, I may inform you,
appears to have been written hastily, although duly signed and witnessed,
upon the day that ended so tragically for our client." The solicitor carefully
polished his glasses with the border of a silk pocket-handkerchief.
"But this is extraordinary—inexplicable!" Mostyn could hardly believe

his ears. It was true that Anthony Royce appeared to have taken a peculiar
interest in him that Derby Day, and then, of course, there was the story
about his having once been in love with Mostyn's mother, but that he should
have gone straight home and made a new will, almost as though he had
anticipated the tragedy that was to come—this was past understanding.
"Our client was always a man who acted immediately upon any
resolution he may have taken," Mr. Chester explained. "He had evidently
made up his mind that afternoon, the day upon which he met you, and, as
usual, followed his impulse. Of course, poor man, he could not have
anticipated that he was to meet his death that night; indeed, as we happen to
know, all his preparations were made for a second expedition into the heart
of Africa. A fine fellow, Mr. Clithero, a man of sterling merit, and no one
regrets his loss more than we do. It was a shocking accident: you know all
the particulars, of course?"
Mostyn nodded: the papers had been very full of the disaster on the day
after it had happened. Anthony Royce, it appeared, had dined at his London
house after his return from the Derby, and then, at a later hour of the
evening, had left London in his motor-car for his country residence, which
was in the neighbourhood of Ware; it was upon the road that the accident
had happened. The night had been very dark, and Royce, who was driving
himself, had apparently, through some accident to the machinery, lost
control of the car upon one of the steep hills in the neighbourhood. The
motor had dashed into a wall; Royce had been thrown out, receiving a
terrible blow upon the head, the result of which had been almost
immediately fatal.
"Let us come to business, Mr. Clithero," the solicitor resumed after a

brief pause. "I have here a copy of the codicil to Mr. Royce's will—the
codicil which affects yourself. You will observe that certain other legacies
—legacies mainly to public bodies—are withdrawn in order to make room
for yours. Mr. Royce was a bachelor, and apparently he has no relatives in
the world, any whom he, at any rate, cared to benefit. This is perhaps lucky
for you," Mr. Chester added meaningly, "for, as you will see, the will is a
peculiar one, and might possibly have been contested."
Mostyn was gazing at the paper before him, but at the moment he could
not make head nor tail of it—the words all seemed blurred and jumbled
together. "What does it mean?" he asked helplessly.
"Mr. Royce bequeaths to you the sum of two and a half million dollars,"
Chester explained slowly, tapping the table with his knuckles as though to
enforce the significance of his words. "But there are certain conditions—
certain conditions," he added, "and you will, no doubt, find some difficulty
in complying with them."
"Conditions?" Mostyn stared helplessly at the solicitor.
"Just so. The capital sum of which I have spoken is not to be handed
over to you for the space of a year, though you may enjoy the interest upon
it. Within this period it is incumbent upon you to win any one of certain
races, the names of which are formally enumerated. Some dozen are
mentioned, and they include the principal events of the year, together with
the five classic races. A sum of one hundred thousand dollars, in addition to
the interest upon the millions, is to be placed at your immediate disposal, so
that as far as money goes, Mr. Clithero, you should be well equipped for
your task. Finally, Mr. Royce leaves to you absolutely his property in
Cambridgeshire known as Partinborough Grange." Mr. Chester ceased
drumming on the desk with his finger, and adjusted his pince-nez upon his
nose. "I trust you are already well conversant with sporting matters, Mr.
Clithero?" he added.
"Good heavens, no!" Mostyn stared aghast, the corners of his lips drawn
down. "I'm as ignorant of sport as the babe unborn! I don't even know what
the classic events are. The whole thing is so extraordinary that I don't know
what to say about it; you have dazed me—taken my breath away!"
"Of course we cannot say what actuated our client to make such a
bequest," said the lawyer smoothly. "We have only to deal with facts, and
there is no doubt in the present case everything is in order. It is a strange
will, but it is not likely to be disputed. I presume, Mr. Clithero, ignorant of
sport though you may be, that you will do your best to carry out Mr.
Royce's wishes?"
"I—I suppose I shall." Mostyn had taken up the paper from the desk and
was pretending to read it; this, however, was to hide his embarrassment, and
to give him time for reflection. It was beginning to dawn upon him that the
extraordinary legacy was a result of the scene upon the coach when he,
Mostyn, prompted by Royce, had undertaken to win a Derby in five years'
time. This eccentric friend of his had wished to give him a sporting chance
of doing so. But that Royce should have executed a will that same day,
containing, moreover, such drastic stipulations, that was the inexplicable
part of the whole thing.
Of course there was no question, however, as to what he must do. He

was put on his mettle; the means were given him of carrying out his own
challenge. A sense of exhilaration seized him. Suddenly, and for no
particular reason, Rada's derisive words flashed into his mind: "You silly
boy, you couldn't win a Derby if you lived to a hundred." He had felt those
words very deeply, they had stung and wounded him—but now, in an
extraordinary manner, the means had been placed at his disposal, and Rada
—not only Rada, but the whole world—should see what he was made of.
He pulled himself together and sat upright in his chair. "Mr. Royce
wanted to make a sportsman of me," he said, "I can see that. Well, I shall do
my best to realise his ambition."
Mr. Chester smiled, the smile that he reserved for his most important
clients, to which number he hoped that Mostyn would be added. "Well, I'm
sure we wish you all success, Mr. Clithero," he said. He rose and extended a
white hand. "Come and see us again to-morrow—let me see—yes—at
11.15, and we will discuss the matter at length. By the way," he added,
"since you will, no doubt, wish to visit your new property shortly, we'll
write to the gardener, whose name is Willis, and who has the charge of it, to
notify him that you may be expected at any time."
As Mostyn reached the door Mr. Chester, suddenly recollecting a duty

omitted, called him back. He searched for a moment among the papers of
his desk, and finally produced a sealed letter which he handed to Mostyn.
"This was brought to us to-day, Mr. Clithero," he explained. "It was
evidently written by Mr. Royce on the day of his death, and should have
been posted in the ordinary way. You see it is stamped though it has not
passed through the post. Mr. Royce may have intended to drop it in the box
himself and accidentally omitted to do so. It appears to have been found in
his study. At any rate, it is addressed to you, and perhaps it may throw
further light upon the matter of your inheritance." With which Mr. Chester
bowed Mostyn from the room, and called to his head clerk that he was
ready to see the next client.
Mostyn returned to his humble lodgings, the spirit of elation still upon
him. What an extraordinary twist had come into his life! There was no fear
of poverty—no need to depend upon the charity of his friends—for a year,
at least, he was rich and independent, and ultimately—unless he failed to
carry out what was imposed upon him—the laugh would be with him and
not with Rada. He wondered why he should think so much about Rada, but
of course it was because she had insulted him, and he had conceived such
an antipathy to the girl.
Alone in his own room he opened Anthony Royce's letter, a letter
written, no doubt, when there was no thought in the writer's mind of the fate
that awaited him.
"My dear Mostyn," so he read, "You have bound yourself to-day to win a
Derby in five years. I suggested ten—but that is immaterial. Well, I have
my own reasons for wishing to help you to do so. I am going out of town
to-night, but I shall return to-morrow; come and see me the day after, and
we will discuss ways and means. I have not the smallest doubt that when
your father learns of your escapade to-day he will turn you out—cut you
adrift—but if he does not do so, my offer may still be acceptable to you.
"You have the true instincts of the sportsman in you, I have seen that for
myself. Besides, you are your mother's son and I took to you instinctively
from the first. That is why I feel justified in helping you to a sporting career.
I don't know what we may decide between ourselves, but since I am a man
who takes no chances, I have this evening added a codicil to my will, and
what I shall propose to you will be much upon the same lines."
Here followed a recapitulation of the codicil. "You will see from this,"
the letter continued, "that I have no intention of making things too easy for
you. It is a hard task for any man—even with unlimited capital—to pull off
one of these races in a year. But if you succeed, well—you will earn a big
fortune, and you may be able to manage the Derby within the stipulated
time. In any case it gives you a sporting chance.
"You will ask why I do this, and if it is only out of regard for yourself
and for your mother's memory. It is not only that, Mostyn. I will confess
that it is by way of revenge upon your father, whom I have good cause for
hating. You will understand this when I tell you that he lied about me to the
girl to whom I was engaged—your mother; that he took advantage of my
absence from England to spread a calumny which he, better than anyone
else, knew to be absolutely false. I returned to England to find my good
name injured and the woman I loved the bride of the very man who had
wrought me this wrong. I could do nothing at the time, there were reasons
which made me helpless—I was driven from England, and became a
naturalised American.
"But my hatred endured, and, through you, I may obtain the kind of
revenge that is dear to my heart—no very bitter revenge perhaps, but one
that appeals to my sense of humour. Narrow-minded Pharisee as is your
father, nothing will gall him more than that a son of his should become
known in the world of sport—and if you accept my offer you will have to
steep yourself in racing. However, we will talk this over when we meet—it
is not very likely that you will be bound by the terms of a will drawn up by
a man in rude health like myself. I hope to live to see you win your Derby,
my boy—and for many years after that. But, as a safeguard to yourself, it is
just as well that the will is there."
A few words of friendship followed, and the letter closed with Anthony
Royce's bold signature. Mostyn, having read it through several times, threw
himself back in his armchair and gave himself up to reflection.
He realised that the plot was aimed against his father. He remembered
how Royce's sides had shaken with silent laughter—the American was just
the sort of man to devise so subtle a revenge. Had Royce been still alive—
had John Clithero been kinder—Mostyn might have hesitated before
accepting, but now he had no compunction.
"Anthony Royce loved my mother," he muttered to himself, "and she—

my father killed her by his cruelty. Yes, I'll steep myself in racing—I'll do
all that is desired of me. I'll keep my word to Rada, too, and win the Derby.
She won't scoff at me again. Ah, Miss Rada, it will be my turn to laugh!"
Suddenly he sprang to his feet and clapped his hands boyishly together.
"Castor!" he cried. "Captain Armitage's colt! The very thing—entered for
the Derby and all! Rada thinks a lot of the horse—I heard her say so. So
does Sir Roderick. And the captain wants to sell—fifteen hundred pounds—
what's fifteen hundred pounds to me now?"
He thought intently for a moment. "Jove, how it all works out!" he cried.
"The Armitages live at Partingborough, and now I'm a man of property in
that neighbourhood. I'll go and take possession of the Grange—I'll go to-
morrow. Then I'll make my first investment—I'll buy Castor. Oh, Rada"—
he laughed aloud in his glee—"I wonder what you'll say if I win the Derby
next year, and with the horse you think so much of?" His face grew
reflective. "I can't make up my mind what I think of you really, Miss Rada
Armitage," he said slowly, "I ought to hate you, but I'm not sure—I'm not
sure. Yet I feel this; you have come into my life—you have influenced it—
and we have not done with each other yet. You've put me on my mettle,
Rada, and it's going to be a tussle between us."
CHAPTER VII.
MOSTYN IS SURPRISED.
On the following day Mostyn travelled down to Partingborough, in

Cambridgeshire, by a late afternoon train. He had paid a visit to Messrs.
Chester and Smithers that morning, had fully discussed his plans with Mr.
Chester, had learnt that a large sum of money would be placed to his credit
that day, and that he could draw upon the firm for more should he require it;
then he had broached a subject which had been worrying his mind during
the night.
"If the details of this extraordinary will are given to the public," he said,
"it's very plain that my task will be made more difficult—for me. Dealers
will ask what they like for their horses because they will know that I simply
must purchase. Every swindler in England will be on my track. I shall be
exploited right and left. That's clear, I think. Now, Mr. Chester, is it
essential that the will shall be published before my year is up?"
Mr. Chester gave the matter his very careful attention. It was palpably a
point of importance. When he spoke it was in his usual oracular vein.
"What you say is very reasonable, Mr. Clithero, and, upon consideration,
we think we can meet you in the matter. There will be no difficulty in
realising the estate of the late Mr. Royce, since it is mainly in American
gold bonds, payable to bearer; and, since the ultimate trusts are of such a
nature that they will not come into force for a full year, we see no reason
why probate should not be delayed for the period you require. This must, of
course, be subject to the consent of the American agents, but we do not
anticipate difficulty with them."
Mostyn felt intensely relieved, and said so. He had been dreading the
amount of public interest that would certainly have been aroused in his
undertaking. Now he would confide in Pierce and Cicely, but in no one else.
This point settled, Mostyn took his departure, after announcing his
intention of going down to Partinborough that day. He had an idea in his
head that Mr. Royce may have had some subtle object in mind in
bequeathing him this estate, situated, as it was, so close to the home of the
Armitages. Was it perhaps Castor of which he had been thinking—or could
he have desired to throw Mostyn and Rada together? It was impossible to
guess. All Mostyn knew of his property was that it had been rarely occupied
by the American, and that the house was an old one, only partly furnished
and very much out of repair.
Mostyn studied racing literature as he travelled down in the train, totally

ignoring magazines, of which he was usually fond, and every form of light
reading. He had purchased the evening paper solely with the object of
absorbing the sporting intelligence. Ruff's Guide and a stud book bulged
prominently in the pocket of his blue serge coat; he had promised himself
that these works should be his inseparable companions during the months to
come. Oh, yes, he would soon be well up in sporting technicalities; he
laughed at himself now as he remembered his blunders on Derby day. To
have asked the age of Hipponous—to have suggested that Hipponous
should run in the Oaks—and above all to have been taken in by that old
joke about the Waterloo Cup—his cheeks reddened even now as he thought
of it.
He wished he had been able to talk it all over with Pierce, but Pierce was
still away at his father's house in Worcestershire: Mostyn had received a
letter from him that afternoon, just as he was leaving for the station. He had
perused it hastily, and then thrust it into his pocket. Now, having time at his
disposition, he drew it out and read it for the second time.

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2. Decisions about study design are based partly on

6. Cross-sectional designs are often used to

12. Longitudinal research requires data collection at at least different times.

13. What is one way to combat issues of internal validity?

15. The longitudinal nature of panel studies allows researchers to

19. Panel conditioning is

21. A trend design collects data at different times from

23. Trend studies are disadvantageous because

33. Temporal precedence is a necessary condition for longitudinal studies.

42. Case studies do not suffer from issues of causation.

ANSWER: Not provided

ANSWER: Not provided

ANSWER: Not provided

ANSWER: Not provided

47. What are some good reasons to conduct a case study?

ANSWER: Not provided

"Take me somewhere where we can have a quiet talk," Mostyn said

"The fellow makes himself a general nuisance," he grumbled. "He's

They installed themselves in a recess of the smoking-room, and Pierce,

Pierce Trelawny was possessed of a rather dominant manner. He was not

"He's an impossible man, your father," Pierce exclaimed when Mostyn

"What about yourself, Mostyn?" he asked, after a pause. "It strikes me

"That's a pity," mused Pierce; "why should you?"

"A clerk on a pound a week, or something ridiculous of that sort," said

As he was about to leave the club, Mostyn was accosted by Captain

"I'm not going far," Mostyn said shortly; "only to Northumberland

"Where do you live?" asked Mostyn.

"Walk with me a little way, at any rate," he urged. "There is something I

So Mostyn complied, his good-nature compelling him; and Captain

"Then it was bluff?" he said curtly.

Mostyn found himself standing alone close to the brilliantly-lit entrance

Over-dressed men and under-dressed women passed across the pavement

"Man," she cried appealingly, "behold thy handiwork!"

Recognition was mutual. For one moment Charles stood staring at

Mostyn was not vindictive by nature, but he was human enough to be

"Paper, captain? last extry speshul?" A small newsboy, keen-eyed and

As he undressed he scanned the pages carelessly, his thoughts in reality

The paper dropped from Mostyn's hand. Anthony Royce, in whose

MOSTYN IS PUT ON HIS METTLE.

"Indeed?" said Mostyn interrogatively, seating himself in a chair

"The matter concerns the testamentary disposition"—Mr. Chester was

"Mr. Royce?" Mostyn repeated the name in amazement. "Why, I only

"Nevertheless you have an interest—a very considerable interest indeed

"But this is extraordinary—inexplicable!" Mostyn could hardly believe

"Let us come to business, Mr. Clithero," the solicitor resumed after a

"Conditions?" Mostyn stared helplessly at the solicitor.

Of course there was no question, however, as to what he must do. He

As Mostyn reached the door Mr. Chester, suddenly recollecting a duty

"Anthony Royce loved my mother," he muttered to himself, "and she—