.

Abel looked at him for a moment, and then, raising his voice, continued:

"As one of the firm, I propose that we sell out the Bilbo and buy into
the Canal."

Not a look or movement from his father.

Abel jumped up--his eyes black, his face red. He took his hat and went to
the door, saying,

"I shall go and conclude the arrangement!"

As he reached the door his father raised his eyes and looked at him. The
eyes were full of contempt and anger, and a sneering sound came from his
lips.

"You'll do no such thing."

The young man glanced sideways at his parent.

"Who will prevent me?"

"I!" roared the elder.

"I believe I am one of the firm," said Abel, coldly.

"You'd better try it!" said the old man, disregarding Abel's remark.

Abel was conscious that his father had this game, at least, in his hands.
The word of the young man would hardly avail against a simultaneous
veto from the parent. No transaction would stand a moment under such
circumstances. The young man slowly turned from the door, and fixing his
eyes upon his father, advanced toward him with a kind of imperious
insolence.

"I should like to understand my position in this house," said he, with
forced calmness.

"Good God! Sir, a bootblack, if I choose!" returned his father, fiercely.
"The unluckiest day of my life was when you came in here, Sir. Ever since
then the business has been getting more and more complicated, until it
is only a question of days how long it can even look respectable. We
shall all be beggars in a month. We are ruined. There is no chance,"
cried the old man, with a querulous wail through his set teeth. "And you
know who has done it all. You know who has brought us all to shame and
disgrace--to utter poverty;" and, rising from his chair, the father shook
his clenched hands at Abel so furiously that the young man fell back
abashed.

"Don't talk to me, Sir. Don't dare to say a word," cried Mr. Newt, in a
voice shrill with anger. "All my life has come to nothing. All my
sacrifices, my industry, my efforts, are of no use. I am a beggar, Sir;
so are you!"

He sank back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. The noise
made the old book-keeper outside look in. But it was no new thing. The
hot debates of the private room were familiar to his ear. With the
silent, sad fidelity of his profession he knew every thing, and was dumb.
Not a turn of his face, not a light in his eye, told any tales to the
most careful an