t be caught very often before I should have the moral courage to
say 'No!' Don't ask me, then to promise--be satisfied with my assurance
that, in future at least, I will be more cautious, and if the loss fall
on me, why, the worst that can happen is to do again what I do now."

"Nay, you would not perhaps have another horse and cab to sell. In that
case, you would do the reverse of what you do now--you would renew the
bill--the debt would run on like a snowball--in a year or two you would
owe, not hundreds, but thousands. But come in--here we are at my door."

The Colonel entered his drawing-room. A miracle of exquisite neatness
the room was--rather effeminate, perhaps, in its attributes; but that
was no sign of the Colonel's tastes, but of his popularity with the
ladies. All those pretty things were their gifts. The tapestry on
the chairs their work--the Sevres on the consoles--the clock on
the mantel-shelf--the inkstand, paper-cutter, taper-stand on the
writing-table--their birthday presents. Even the white woolly Maltese
dog that sprang from the rug to welcome him--even the flowers in the
jardiniere--even the tasteful cottage-piano, and the very music-stand
beside it--and the card-trays, piled high with invitations,--were
contributions from the forgiving sex to the unrequiting bachelor.

Surveying his apartment with a complacent air, the Colonel sank into his
easy _fauteuil_, and drawing off his gloves leisurely said--

"No man has more friends than I have--never did I lose one--never did
I sign a bill. Your father pursued a different policy--he signed many
bills--and lost many friends." Lionel, much distressed, looked down,
and evidently desired to have done with the subject. Not so the Colonel.
That shrewd man, though he did not preach, had a way all his own, which
was perhaps quite as effective as any sermon by a fashionable layman can
be to an impatient youth.

"Yes," resumed the Colonel, "it is the old story. One always begins by
being security to a friend. The discredit of the thing is familiarised
to one's mind by the false show of generous confidence in another. Their
what you have done for a friend, a friend should do for you;--a hundred
or two would be useful now--you are sure to repay it in three months. To
Youth the Future seems safe as the Bank of England, and distant as the
peaks of Himalaya. You pledge your honour that in three months you will
release your friend. The three months expire. To release