had a pretty wit; I see now why she admiahed it. Birds
of a feathah: very wise old proverb.'

I reflected that, after all, this young man had nothing overt against
him, beyond a fishy blue eye and an inane expression; so, feeling that I
had perhaps gone a little too far, I continued after a minute, 'And your
uncle, how is he?'

'Marmy?' he inquired, with another elephantine smile; and then I
perceived it was a form of humour with him (or rather, a cheap
substitute) to speak of his elder relations by their abbreviated
Christian names, without any prefix. 'Marmy's doing very well, thank
yah; as well as could be expected. In fact, bettah. Habakkuk on the
brain: it's carrying him off at last. He has Bright's disease very
bad--drank port, don't yah know--and won't trouble this wicked world
much longah with his presence. It will be a happy release--especially
for his nephews.'

I was really grieved, for I had grown to like the urbane old gentleman,
as I had grown to like the cantankerous old lady. In spite of his
fussiness and his Stock Exchange views on the interpretation of
Scripture, his genuine kindliness and his real liking for me had
softened my heart to him; and my face must have shown my distress, for
the pea-green young man added quickly with an afterthought: 'But _you_
needn't be afraid, yah know. It's all right for Harold Tillington. You
ought to know that as well as anyone--and bettah: for it was you who
drew up his will for him at Florence.'

I flushed crimson, I believe. Then he knew all about me! 'I was not
asking on Mr. Tillington's account,' I answered. 'I asked because I have
a personal feeling of friendship for your uncle, Mr. Ashurst.'

His hand strayed up to the straggling yellow hairs on his upper lip once
more, and he smiled again, this time with a curious undercurrent of
foolish craftiness. 'That's a good one,' he answered. 'Georgey told me
you were original. Marmy's a millionaire, and many people love
millionaires for their money. But to love Marmy for himself-- I do call
that originality! Why, weight for age, he's acknowledged to be the most
portentous old boah in London society!'

'I like Mr. Ashurst because he has a kind heart and some genuine
instincts,' I answered. 'He has not allowed all human feeling to be
replaced by a cheap mask of Pall Mall cynicism.'

'Oh, I say; how's that for preaching? Don't you manage to give it hot to
a fellah, neithah! And at sight, too, without the usual thr