oubt
in his mind as to the boy's sincerity: he only wondered how long this
contrite mood would last.

"I am always willing to help you to the best of my ability," he said.
"But I think you might play the game. I can't keep pouring water into a
sieve."

"It's not to be expected," Rupert agreed. "And I hate asking you for more
money. I'm an absolute cur to do it. But--" he broke off, and pulled his
hand free--"for goodness' sake, man, if you can--just this once--"

Mordaunt crossed the room to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, took
out a cheque-book.

"How much?"

"I say, you are a good chap!" Rupert protested. "Can you make it a
hundred?"

"Will that settle everything?" Mordaunt asked.

"Oh, well--practically everything."

Mordaunt wrote the cheque in silence. He handed it over his shoulder
finally to the boy behind him.

"It's for a hundred and fifty. I hope that will see you through. And look
here, Rupert, do for Heaven's sake pull up and keep within bounds. I am
quite willing to help you to a reasonable extent, but you must do your
part, too. You are living at an insane rate. Do you keep an account of
your expenditure?"

"Of course I don't!" Rupert seemed astonished at the question. "What on
earth would be the good of that? It wouldn't reduce my expenses."

Mordaunt laid his cheque-book back in the drawer. "And you think you
would make a good bailiff?" he said.

"Oh, that's different. Of course, you must have accounts for the
management of an estate. You would have no cause to complain of me there.
Are you going to think it over, I say?"

Mordaunt turned in his chair. "You really wish me to do so?"

"Rather!" Rupert spoke with enthusiasm. "If you knew how deadly sick I am
of the life I live now!" he added, with strong disgust. "It's beastly
hard work, too, in a sense, and nothing to show for it."

"I should work you hard myself," Mordaunt observed.

"I shouldn't mind that. I'd work like a horse here. It's what I've always
wanted to do."

"And kick like a horse, too, if I ventured to find fault," said Mordaunt,
smiling a little.

"No, I shouldn't. I'd take it like a lamb. Come, man, I've apologized."

There was a note of reproach in Rupert's voice. Mordaunt left his
writing-table and faced him squarely.

"I'll make a bargain with you," he said. "If you can manage to keep
straight between now and Christmas, and you are of the same mind then, I
will take you on. Is it done?"

Rupert thrus