nstalments. Many a tight morning George nearly decided
that Mary must write to her uncle and ask for a little supplementary
estimate. But he never did decide, partly because he was afraid, and
partly from sheer pride. (According to his original statements to his
uncle-in-law, seven years earlier, he ought at this epoch to have been
in an assured position with a genuine income of thousands.)

But the state of trade worsened, and he had a cheque dishonoured. And
then he won the Triennial Gold Medal. And then at length he did arrange
with Mary that she should write to old Samuel and roundly ask him for an
extra couple of hundred. They composed the letter together; and they
stated the reasons so well, and convinced themselves so completely of
the righteousness of their cause, that for a few moments they looked on
the two hundred as already in hand. Hence the Heidsieck night. But on
the morrow of the Heidsieck night they thought differently. And George
was gloomy. He felt humiliated by the necessity of the application to
his uncle--the first he had ever made. And he feared the result.

His fears were justified.

III

They were far more than justified. Three mornings after the first
letter, to which she had made no reply, Mary received a second. It ran:

"DEAR MARY,--And what is more, I shall henceforth pay you three hundred
instead of five hundred a year. If George has not made a position for
himself it is quite time he had. The Gold Medal must make a lot of
difference to him. And if necessary you must economize. I am sure there
is room for economy in your household. Champagne, for instance.--Your
affectionate uncle, SAMUEL PEEL.

"_P.S._--I am, of course, acting in your best interests.

"S.P."

This letter infuriated George, so much so that George the younger,
observing strange symptoms on his father's face, and strange sounds
issuing from his father's mouth, stopped eating in order to give the
whole of his attention to them.

"Champagne! What's he driving at?" exclaimed George, glaring at Mary as
though it was Mary who had written the letter.

"I expect he's been reading that paper," said Mary.

"Do you mean to say," George asked scornfully, "that your uncle reads a
rag like that? I thought all _his_ lot looked down on worldliness."

"So they do," said Mary. "But somehow they like reading about it. I
believe uncle has read it every week for twenty years."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?"

"The other mo