e other day: 'They want my
money.' It gave me such a turn, because, as I said to him, nobody wants
his money, I'm sure. And it does seem a pity he should be thinking about
money at his time of life. I took my courage in my 'ands. 'You know,
Mr. Timothy,' I said, 'my dear mistress'--that's Miss Forsyte, Mr.
Soames, Miss Ann that trained me--'she never thought about money,' I
said, 'it was all character with her.' He looked at me, I can't tell you
how funny, and he said quite dry: 'Nobody wants my character.' Think of
his saying a thing like that! But sometimes he'll say something as sharp
and sensible as anything."

Soames, who had been staring at an old print by the hat-rack, thinking,
'That's got value!' murmured: "I'll go up and see him, Smither."

"Cook's with him," answered Smither above her corsets; "she will be
pleased to see you."

He mounted slowly, with the thought: 'Shan't care to live to be that
age.'

On the second floor, he paused, and tapped. The door was opened, and he
saw the round homely face of a woman about sixty.

"Mr. Soames!" she said: "Why! Mr. Soames!"

Soames nodded. "All right, Cook!" and entered.

Timothy was propped up in bed, with his hands joined before his chest,
and his eyes fixed on the ceiling, where a fly was standing upside down.
Soames stood at the foot of the bed, facing him.

"Uncle Timothy," he said, raising his voice. "Uncle Timothy!"

Timothy's eyes left the fly, and levelled themselves on his visitor.
Soames could see his pale tongue passing over his darkish lips.

"Uncle Timothy," he said again, "is there anything I can do for you? Is
there anything you'd like to say?"

"Ha!" said Timothy.

"I've come to look you up and see that everything's all right."

Timothy nodded. He seemed trying to get used to the apparition before
him.

"Have you got everything you want?"

"No," said Timothy.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No," said Timothy.

"I'm Soames, you know; your nephew, Soames Forsyte. Your brother James'
son."

Timothy nodded.

"I shall be delighted to do anything I can for you."

Timothy beckoned. Soames went close to him:

"You--" said Timothy in a voice which seemed to have outlived tone, "you
tell them all from me--you tell them all--" and his finger tapped on
Soames' arm, "to hold on--hold on--Consols are goin' up," and he nodded
thrice.

"All right!" said Soames; "I will."

"Yes," said Timothy, and, fixing his eyes again on t