eeriest voice, springing to his feet--"no,
we won't worry. It will all come out right--we'll buckle down to it
together, you and I. Don't take it too much to heart--we'll get on
somehow."

But the boy was not reassured; in fact, he had become more anxious than
ever. Not only did the chill continue, but the lump in his throat grew
larger every minute.

"But, Uncle George--you told me you borrowed the money to pay those
bills my father sent me. And will you now have to pay that back as
well?" He did not ask of whom he had borrowed it, nor on what security,
nor would either Pawson or his uncle have told him, that being a
confidential matter.

"Well, that depends, Harry; but we won't have to pay it right away,
which is one comfort. And then again, I can go back to the law. I have
yet to make my maiden speech before a jury, but I can do it. Think
of it!--everybody in tears, the judge mopping his eyes--court-room
breathless. Oh, you just wait until your old uncle gets on his feet
before a bench and jury. Come along, old fellow--let us go up into the
house." Then in a serious tone--his back to Harry--"Pawson, please bring
the full accounts with you in the morning, and now let me thank you for
your courtesy. You have been extremely civil, sir, and I appreciate it
most highly."

When they had reached the front walk and were about to climb the
immaculate steps, St. George, still determined to divert the boy's
thoughts from his own financial straits, said with a laugh:

"Todd told you, of course, about your father paying me a visit this
morning, did he not?"

"Oh, yes!--a most extraordinary account. You must have enjoyed it,"
replied Harry, trying to fall into his uncle's mood, his heart growing
heavier every moment. "What did he want?"

One of St. George's heat-lightning smiles played over his face: "He
wanted two things. He first wanted you, and then he wanted a receipt for
a month's board--YOUR board, remember! He went away without either."

A new perspective suddenly opened up in Harry's mind; one that had a
gleam of sunshine athwart it.

"But, Uncle George!" he burst out--"don't forget that my father owes
you all the money you paid for me! That, of course, will eventually come
back to you." This came in a tone of great relief, as if the money was
already in his hand.

St. George's face hardened: "None of it will come back to me," he
rejoined in a positive tone. "He doesn't owe me one single penny and he
never wi