at. Putting Quaverdale before him as an
example, Annesley could not bring himself to choose literature as a
profession. Thinking of all this when he received his mother's letter,
he assured himself that Florence would not like professional literature.

He wrote to say that he would be down at Buston in five days' time. It
does not become a son who is a fellow of a college and the heir to a
property to obey his parents too quickly. But he gave up the
intermediate days to thinking over the condition which bound him to his
uncle, and to discussing his prospects with Quaverdale, who, as usual,
was remaining in town doing the editor's work for _The Coming Hour_. "If
he interfered with me I should tell him to go to bed," said Quaverdale.
The allusion was, of course, made to Mr. Prosper.

"I am not on those sort of terms with him."

"I should make my own terms, and then let him do his worst. What can he
do? If he means to withdraw his beggarly two hundred and fifty pounds,
of course he'll do it."

"I suppose I do owe him something, in the way of respect."

"Not if he threatens you in regard to money. What does it come to? That
you are to cringe at his heels for a beggarly allowance which he has
been pleased to bestow upon you without your asking. 'Very well, my dear
fellow,' I should say to him, 'you can stop it the moment you please.
For certain objects of your own,--that your heir might live in the world
after a certain fashion,--you have bestowed it. It has been mine since I
was a child. If you can reconcile it to your conscience to discontinue
it, do so.' You would find that he would have to think twice about it."

"He will stop it, and what am I to do then? Can I get an opening on any
of these papers?" Quaverdale whistled,--a mode of receiving the overture
which was not pleasing to Annesley. "I don't suppose that anything so
very super-human in the way of intellect is required." Annesley had got
a fellowship, whereas Quaverdale had done nothing at the university.

"Couldn't you make a pair of shoes? Shoemakers do get good wages."

"What do you mean? A fellow never can get you to be serious for two
minutes together.

"I never was more serious in my life."

"That I am to make shoes?"

"No, I don't quite think that. I don't suppose you can make them. You'd
have first to learn the trade and show that you were an adept."

"And I must show that I am an adept before I can write for _The Coming
Hour_." There was a to