from his table at the other side
of the office, unfolding himself, as it were, like a carpenter's
double-hinged rule, and crossed to where Gwyn was seated with his table
covered with correspondence.

Joe read the letter, and threw it back.

"Well," he said, "it's a pity they don't sell it; but it's the old
story: father says `No,' as he has started mining and it pays, he shall
go on, so that I may succeed him."

"And Colonel Pendarve, ex-officer of cavalry and now half-proprietor of
Ydoll Mine, says precisely the same on behalf of his fine, noble,
handsome son Gwyn. Look here, Joe, why don't you drop it, and swell out
the other way?"

"Going to begin that poor stuff again?" said Joe, sourly.

"You make me. I declare I believe you've grown another inch in the
night. What a jolly old cucumber you are! You'll have to go on your
knees next time you go down the mine."

"You answer your letter, and then I want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"I'll tell you directly you've written your letter. Get one piece of
business out of your way at a time."

"Dear me; how methodical we are," said Gwyn; but he began writing his
answer, while, instead of going back to his table, Joe crossed to the
hearthrug, where Grip was lying curled up asleep, and bending down
slowly he patted the dog's head and rubbed his ears, receiving an
intelligent look in return, while the curly feathery tail rapped the
rug.

"There you are, Mr Lawyer Dix, Esquire," said Gwyn, after dashing off
the reply; "now, don't bother us any more, for we are not going to
sell--Hi! Grip, old man, rabbits!"

The dog sprang to his feet uttered a sharp bark, and ran to the door
before realising that it meant nothing; and then, without the sign of a
limp, walked slowly back and lay down growling.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Gwyn; "says `You're not going to humbug me again like
that,' as plain as a dog can speak."

"Well, it's too bad," said Joe. "Think of the boy who cried `wolf.'
Some day when you want him he won't come."

"Oh, yes, he will; Grip knows me. Come here, old man."

The dog sprang to him, rose on his hind-legs, and put his fore-paws on
his master's hands.

"Only a game, was it, Grippy? You understand your master, don't you?"

The dog gave a joyous bark.

"There; says he does."

"Don't fool about, I want to talk to you," said Joe, sternly.

"All right, old lively. How was the governor this morning? You look as
if you'd taken some of his p