udden pleasure that there was the money that had been
accumulating for some time in readiness for Mrs. Bryant's return. He
could borrow from that if need were.

The money was gone.

Percival stood up and stared vaguely round the room. Then, unable to
believe in his misfortune, he emptied out the contents of the desk upon
the table and tossed them over in a hurried search. A carelessly-folded
paper caught his eye as something unfamiliar. He opened it and read:

"DEAR THORNE: You were good enough to let me borrow of you once
when I was in a scrape. I am in a worse difficulty now, and, as I
have not the chance of asking your leave, I've ventured to help
myself. You shall have it back again in a few days, with an
explanation of this cool proceeding."

"H.L."

Percival threw the letter down, and walked to the window again. It was
clear enough now. Bertie had had no need to borrow eight or nine pounds
if he were only going out for the day to inquire about a situation as
organist. But if a man is running off with a young lady it will not do
to have an absolutely empty purse. Even though she may be an heiress, he
cannot very well begin by asking her to pay his railway-fare. "It would
define the relative positions a little _too_ clearly," thought Percival
with a scornful smile.

"Will she hope still?" was his next thought. "It is not utterly
impossible, I suppose, that Master Bertie has bolted alone. One couldn't
swear he hadn't. Bolted he certainly has, but if she _will_ hope I can't
say that I know he has gone with Miss Nash. Though I am sure he has: how
else would he undertake to repay me in a few days? Unless that is only a
figure of speech."

He suddenly remembered the time when Bertie left his debt unpaid after a
similar promise, and he went back to his desk with a new anxiety. His
talisman, the half-sovereign which was to have been treasured to his
dying day, had shared the fate of the commonplace coins which were
destined for Mrs. Bryant and his bootmaker. It was a cruel blow, but
Percival saw the absurd side of his misfortune, and laughed aloud in
spite of himself.

"My sentiment hasn't prospered: it might just as well have been a
three-penny-piece! Ah, well! it would be unreasonable to complain," he
reflected, "since Bertie has promised to send my souvenir back again.
Very thoughtful of him! It will be a little remembrance of Emmeline Nash
when it comes, and not of Judith Li