ions, he made brief report of what he
had learnt at Finsbury Park. Mr. Daffy was beside himself with wrath and
shame. He would pay every farthing, if he had to sell all he possessed!

'I'm so glad and so thankful you will come with me Mr. Lott. He'd care
nothing for what _I_ said; but when he sees _you_, and hears your opinion
of him, it may have some effect. I beg you to tell him your mind plainly!
Let him know what a contemptible wretch, what a dirty blackguard, he is in
the eyes of all decent folk--let him know it, I entreat you! Perhaps even
yet it isn't too late to make him ashamed of himself.'

They stood amid a rush of people; the panting tailor clung to his big
companion's sleeve. Gruffly promising to do what he could, Mr. Lott led the
way into the street again, where they planned the rest of their day. By
five o'clock they were at Clapham. Charles Daffy occupied the kind of house
which is known as eminently respectable; it suggested an income of at least
a couple of thousand a year. As they waited for the door to open, Mr. Lott
smote gently on his leg with the new riding-whip. He had been silent and
meditative all the way hither.

A smart maidservant conducted them to the dining-room, and there, in a
minute or two, they were joined by Mr. Charles. No one could have surmised
from this gentleman's appearance that he was the son of the little
tradesman who stood before him; nature had given the younger Mr. Daffy a
tall and shapely person, and experience of life had refined his manners to
an easy assurance he would never have learnt from paternal example. His
smooth-shaven visage, so long as it remained grave, might have been that of
an acute and energetic lawyer; his smile, however, disturbed this
impression, for it had a twinkling insolence, a raffish facetiousness,
incompatible with any sober quality. He wore the morning dress of a City
man, with collar and necktie of the latest fashion; his watchguard was
rather demonstrative, and he had two very solid rings on his left hand.

'Ah, dad, how do you do!' he exclaimed, on entering, in an affected
head-voice. 'Why, what's the matter?'

Mr. Daffy had drawn back, refusing the offered hand. With an unpleasant
smile Charles turned to his other visitor.

'Mr. Lott, isn't it! You're looking well, Mr. Lott; but I suppose you
didn't come here just to give me the pleasure of seeing you. I'm rather a
busy man; perhaps one or the other of you will be good enough to break