"Rich?" said the boy. "I should think he is."

"And what did you say his business was, my lad?"

"Master's business is master's business, and n.o.body else's," said the boy sharply. "Here he is, sir."

For just then d.i.c.k's cough was heard, and his step in the conservatory.

And then, in the whitest of vests and the glossiest of frock-coats, he came into the room as the boy backed out.

"My dear Richard!" cried Max, with effusion--and the tears stood in his eyes as he stretched out his hands--"I am delighted to see you again."

"Are you?" said d.i.c.k coolly, and without taking any notice of the suggested embrace.

"So glad, I cannot tell you," cried Max, taking out and unfolding a cambric handkerchief, which he held to one eye, looked at it afterwards to see if there was a moist spot for result, and, as there was not, tried the other eye with rather better success. "You'll shake hands?"

"Oh yes," said d.i.c.k. "How are you, Max?"

"Quite well, my dear brother: but why haven't you been to see me all these long months?"

"Long months, eh? I never found 'em long. I began to think I was being took advantage of now that I was well off, and getting short measure."

"Then you are very well off?"

"Tol-lol, tol-lol; nothing much to grumble about. But sit down."

He placed an easy chair for his brother, seating himself afterwards on the edge of the table and watching his visitor sharply.

"I'm very glad of it, Richard," cried Max, after a glance round. "You know, I always thought that a man with your brains was throwing himself away on trade, and wasting his energies."

"Oh! you did, did you?"

"Always, my dear brother; and that's why I used to speak so sharply to you--to rouse you--to awaken you."

"Well, you did that, and no mistake!" said d.i.c.k, laughing.

"And look at the result. You set-to and hit up some bright idea; and now, before two years have elapsed, I come and find you a millionaire."

"Well, not quite that, Max: a million's a stiff sum, Max--a very stiff sum."

"Hah! it's refreshing to come and hear you call me again by that familiar name, Richard: it reminds me of when we were boys." And Max again raised his handkerchief to his eyes.

"Well, old fellow, I wouldn't cry about it if I was you. It's all right now. You always was pretty well down upon me when I was a poor man; but as you've come and showed, as I said to Polly, that blood's thicker than water, why, we'll forget all about the past."

"We will," cried Max, taking his brother's hand and beginning to pump it up and down, clinging to it the while as if he were afraid of being parted, and ending by trying to embrace him.

"I say, don't do that!" cried d.i.c.k sharply. "I'm pretty well off, but I can only afford one clean shirt a day."

"Jocular as ever," said Max, holding his head on one side, and looking at him admiringly. "Humour flourishes in a golden soil. And so, my dear Richard, you make your twenty per cent, out of your profession?"

"Twenty per cent!" said d.i.c.k contemptuously. "Why, you don't think this sort of thing's done on twenty per cent, do you?"

"How much, then?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm not particular. I take a hundred per cent, when I can't get a hundred and fifty."

"A hundred and fifty per cent! My dear Richard, you must put me on to this. We must be partners, d.i.c.k--Shingle Brothers, eh? But, my dear boy, what business are you in?"

"Oh, yes--that's it!" said d.i.c.k, closing one eye slowly, and keeping it shut while he fixed the other on the ceiling. "But here are the ladies."

As he spoke, Mrs Shingle and Jessie entered the room.

"Never!" exclaimed Max, with an air of wonderment. "My dear sister, my dear niece--years younger on the one side, years more beautiful on the other. What a change since I saw you last!"

"There's better light in this room than in the old one, Max; and it flatters, perhaps," said d.i.c.k.

"Yes, so there is, Richard. That was a cruel cold place. But why speak of the past? My dear niece, you have really grown beautiful. Fred would be charmed to see you."

Jessie's eyes contracted as she gazed full at him, and then, bending her head slightly, turned away.

"Haven't you married him to a lady of fortune yet?" said d.i.c.k.

"Oh no!" cried Max hastily. "He is not engaged. Tom is--to my ward, Violante--a charming girl."

Jessie stood as if turned to stone, but no sound escaped her. d.i.c.k, however, saw that she was suffering, and he said, sharply--

"Ah! fine young fellow, Tom; but deuced low in his tastes. Wanted to marry a poor shoemaker's gal--girl, I mean. But there, come into my study, and I'll give you a gla.s.s of genuine port. Mother, tell them to bring in the comic port."

"Comet port," she whispered. "I told you before."

"All right--only meant to get him away. Look at Jessie."

"I shall be delighted," said Max. "Ladies, good-bye for the present."

His bow was perfection; and then d.i.c.k led the way through the well-filled conservatory, while Mrs Shingle caught her child's clammy hand in her own, for Jessie seemed about to faint.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TEN.

A LUNATIC.

"Jessie, are you ill?" cried Mrs Shingle.

"No, mother, no," said Jessie, making a brave effort to recover herself.

"It is all past now."

"It was them talking in that heartless manner about those two fellows,"

cried Mrs Shingle indignantly. "What is it, John?"

"Here's another gentleman to see you, mum," said the boy.