kind
of thing. I disinherit you, or will do if I live till 4 p.m. when the
lawyer's office shuts, for thank God! there are no entailed estates, and
I dismiss you from the firm. You can go and earn your living in any
way you please, by orchid-hunting if you like." He paused, gasping for
breath.

"Is that all, father?" asked Mr. Stephen, producing a cigar from his
pocket.

"No, it isn't, you cold-blooded young beggar. That house you occupy at
Twickenham is mine. You will be good enough to clear out of it; I wish
to take possession."

"I suppose, father, I am entitled to a week's notice like any other
tenant," said Mr. Stephen, lighting the cigar. "In fact," he added, "if
you answer no, I think I shall ask you to apply for an ejection order.
You will understand that I have arrangements to make before taking a
fresh start in life."

"Oh! curse your cheek, you--you--cucumber!" raged the infuriated
merchant prince. Then an inspiration came to him. "You think more of an
ugly flower than of your father, do you? Well, at least I'll put an end
to that," and he made a dash at the plant on the table with the evident
intention of destroying the same.

But the watching Woodden saw. With a kind of lurch he interposed his big
frame between Sir Alexander and the object of his wrath.

"Touch 'O. Paving' and I knocks yer down," he drawled out.

Sir Alexander looked at "O. Paving," then he looked at Woodden's
leg-of-mutton fist, and--changed his mind.

"Curse 'O. Paving,'" he said, "and everyone who has to do with it," and
swung out of the room, banging the door behind him.

"Well, that's over," said Mr. Stephen gently, as he fanned himself with
a pocket-handkerchief. "Quite exciting while it lasted, wasn't it, Mr.
Quatermain--but I have been there before, so to speak. And now what do
you say to some luncheon? Pym's is close by, and they have very good
oysters. Only I think we'll drive round by the bank and hand in this
cheque. When he's angry my parent is capable of anything. He might even
stop it. Woodden, get off down to Twickenham with 'O. Pavo.' Keep it
warm, for it feels rather like frost. Put it in the stove for to-night
and give it a little, just a little tepid water, but be careful not to
touch the flower. Take a four-wheeled cab, it's slow but safe, and mind
you keep the windows up and don't smoke. I shall be home for dinner."

Woodden pulled his forelock, seized the pot in his left hand, and
departed with his right