ood reasons for wanting money."

"That's it," said Mr. Copperhead, seriously. "Why are you the father of
a large family? That's what I ask our ministers. It's against all
political economy, that is. According as you've no money to give 'em,
you go and have children--when it should be just the other way."

"That may be very true; but there they are, and can't be done away with;
and I do want money, as it happens, more now than I shall want it a year
hence, or, perhaps, even six months hence."

"Most people do," said Mr. Copperhead, withdrawing his hand from his
pocket, and placing his elbow tightly against the orifice of that very
important part of him. "It's the commonest thing in the world. I want
money myself, for that matter. I've always got a large amount to make up
by a certain date, and a bill to pay. But about Clar, that's the
important matter. As he seems to have set his mind on it, and as you
assure me there's no danger--man-traps, or that sort of thing, eh?"

The colour came to Mr. May's cheek; but it was only for a moment. To
have his own daughter spoken of as a man-trap gave him a momentary
thrill of anger; but, as he would have applied the word quite composedly
to any other man's daughter, the resentment was evanescent. He did not
trust himself to answer, however, but nodded somewhat impatiently, which
made the millionnaire laugh the more.

"Don't like the man-trap?" he said. "Bless you, they're all alike, not
yours more than the rest. But as I was saying, if it's warranted safe I
suppose he'll have to stay. But I don't stand any nonsense, May; and
look here, your music and all that ain't in the agreement. He can have a
master for his music, he's well enough able to pay for it; but I won't
have a mistress, by George, to put folly into his head."

"I am to forbid him the drawing-room, I suppose, and take his fiddle
from him! I have no objections. Between ourselves, as I am not musical,
it would be very agreeable to me; but perhaps he is rather over the age,
don't you think, for treatment of that kind?"

Clarence had come in, and stood watching the conversation, with a look
Mr. Copperhead was not prepared for. Those mild brown eyes, which were
his mother's share in him, were full a-stare with sullen resolution, and
his heavy mouth shut like that of a bull-dog. He lingered at the door,
looking at the conversation which was going on between his father and
his tutor, and they both noticed him at the same m