n-law," said Beecher,
derisively.

"No, I said nothing about it!" muttered the other.

There was now a pause; each only waited for any, the slightest show
of concession to make advances to the other; for although without the
slightest particle of good feeling on either side, they well knew
the force of the adage that enjoins friendship among knaves. My
Lord thoroughly appreciated the utility of a Spicer; well did Spicer
understand all the value of a peer's acquaintance.

Each ruminated long over the situation; and at last Beecher said, "Did
poor Lackington leave you anything in his will?"

"A racing snaffle and two whips, my Lord."

"Poor fellow, he never forgot any one, I 'm sure," sighed Beecher.

"He had a wonderful memory, indeed, my Lord; for I had borrowed twenty
pounds of him at the Canterbury races some ten years ago, and he said
to me, just before he took to bed, 'Never mind the trifle that's between
us, Spicer; I shall not take it.'"

"Good-hearted, generous fellow!" muttered Beecher.

Spicer's mouth twitched a little, but he did not speak.

"There never was a better brother, never!" said Beecher, far more intent
upon the display of his own affectionate sorrow than in commemorating
fraternal virtues. "We never had a word of disagreement in our lives.
Poor Lackington! he used to think he was doing the best by me by keeping
me so tight, and always threatening to cut me down still lower; he meant
it for the best, but you know I could n't live upon it, the thing was
impossible. If I had n't been one of the 'wide-awakes,' I 'd have gone
to the wall at once; and let me tell you, Master Spicer, it wasn't every
fellow would have kept his head over water where I was swimming."

"That I 'm convinced of," said Spicer, gravely.

"Well, it's a long lane has no turning, Spicer," said he, oomplacently
looking at himself in the glass. "Even a runaway pulls up somewhere; not
but I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for poor Lack, but it will be
our own turn one of these days; that's a match there's no paying forfeit
on, eh, Spicer? it must come off whether we will or not!"

"So it must, my Lord," sighed out Spicer, sympathetically.

"Ay, by Jove! whether a man leaves twelve thousand a year or only two
hundred behind him," sighed out Beecher, who could not help making the
application to himself.

Again did Spicer sigh, and so profoundly, it might have represented
grief for the whole peerage.

"I say, old fell