ther-in-law."

Chiffield continued: "To save any further circumlocution, sir, and in
order that we may fully understand each other, I will say at once, that
we are completely--ruined!"

"Ha! What! Who ruined?"

"The house of Upjack, Chiffield & Co. I--I thought you knew it."

"Ruined, sir!" cried Mr. Whedell, livid with horror. He choked for
further utterance.

"Yes, sir," said Chiffield, who, being a fat man, was happily calm;
"totally ruined."

"You impudent scoundrel! out of this house!" shrieked Mr. Whedell,
rising from his chair, and glaring like a wildcat at his son-in-law.

"Be calm," said that phlegmatic individual. "I respect your age."

"Curse your impudence! what do you mean by my age?" (approaching
Chiffield in a threatening manner). "I'll let you know, sir, that I am
young enough to kick a swindler like you into the street."

"Pray compose yourself, sir," returned the bland Chiffield. "Your
surprise and excitement are natural, and therefore pardonable. But my
affairs are, after all, not quite as bad as they might be. I have a sure
prospective fortune, if not a present one."

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Mr. Whedell, not quite so savage as
before.

"That I have talents, energy, a large business acquaintance," said the
cheerful Chiffield.

"Humbug!" roared Mr. Whedell. "What is all that stuff good for, without
money?"

"Not much, I admit," was the conciliatory reply. "There fore, sir, to
come to the point at once, advance me ten thousand dollars to start in
business again, and I will make a fortune in three years. It was the
outside speculations of my partners that ruined me. Perhaps you don't
know that dry goods are going up, sir? Now's the time to buy."

"This man will drive me mad!" shrieked Mr. Whedell, combing his hair
wildly with his hands.

"Regard it in the light of a family investment," suggested the soothing
Chiffield.

"You diabolical scoundrel!" yelled Mr. Whedell, in a partial asphyxia of
rage; "if I had a million dollars to-day, I wouldn't give you a cent.
You should starve first. But I want to tell you--and hang me if it isn't
a pleasure, too--that I am a beggar, sir--a beggar, sir--a beggar, sir!
By noon to-day I shall be turned out of this house. And, by Jove! I'm
glad of it, for then I shall get rid of you." During this _adagio_
passage, the speaker shook his fist within a few inches of
Chiffield's nose.

The summery Chiffield answered, with a hearty laugh: "I see,"