s as his equals, and
would not presume to patronise us, or to act as if we could not help
ourselves. It would be a humiliation to us to take his money."

"Pshaw! Besides, it is only a question of an advance, and advances
are made every day among business men. How can you talk such nonsense,
Robert?"

Early as it was, his son could see from his excited, quarrelsome manner
that the old man had been drinking. The habit had grown upon him of
late, and it was seldom now that he was entirely sober.

"Mr. Raffles Haw is the best judge," said Robert coldly. "If he earns
the money, he has a right to spend it as he likes."

"And how does he earn it? You don't know, Robert. You don't know that
you aren't aiding and abetting a felony when you help him to fritter
it away. Was ever so much money earned in an honest fashion? I tell you
there never was. I tell you, also, that lumps of gold are no more to
that man than chunks of coal to the miners over yonder. He could build
his house of them and think nothing of it."

"I know that he is very rich, father. I think, however, that he has an
extravagant way of talking sometimes, and that his imagination carries
him away. I have heard him talk of plans which the richest man upon
earth could not possibly hope to carry through."

"Don't you make any mistake, my son. Your poor old father isn't quite
a fool, though he is only an honest broken merchant." He looked up
sideways at his son with a wink and a most unpleasant leer. "Where
there's money I can smell it. There's money there, and heaps of it.
It's my belief that he is the richest man in the world, though how he
came to be so I should not like to guarantee. I'm not quite blind yet,
Robert. Have you seen the weekly waggon?"

"The weekly waggon!"

"Yes, Robert. You see I can find some news for you yet. It is due this
morning. Every Saturday morning you will see the waggon come in. Why,
here it is now, as I am a living man, coming round the curve."

Robert glanced back and saw a great heavy waggon drawn by two strong
horses lumbering slowly along the road which led to the New Hall. From
the efforts of the animals and its slow pace the contents seemed to be
of great weight.

"Just you wait here," old McIntyre cried, plucking at his son's sleeve
with his thin bony hand. "Wait here and see it pass. Then we will watch
what becomes of it."

They stood by the side of the road until it came abreast of them. The
waggon was covered with