sudden
reverses--what is termed gambling--and whatever renders property
insecure is sure to obtain odium among those whose principal concern
is its accumulation; those who consider the responsibility of others of
essential importance to themselves."

"But is it a dishonest pursuit, father?"

"As the times go, not necessarily, my dear; though it may readily become
so."

"And is it disreputable, generally, with the world?"

"That depends on circumstances, Anna. When the stock-jobber loses, he
is very apt to be condemned; but I rather think his character rises in
proportion to his gains. But why do you ask these singular questions,
love?"

I thought I heard Anna breathe harder than usual, and it is certain that
she leaned far out of the window to pluck a rose.

"Why, Mrs. Norton said Jack was not invited to Sir Harry Griffin's
because his father was a stock-jobber. Do you think she was right, sir?"

"Very likely, my dear," returned the divine, who I fancied was smiling
at the question. "Sir Harry has the advantages of birth, and he probably
did not forget that our friend Jack was not so fortunate--and, moreover,
Sir Harry, while he values himself on his wealth, is not as rich as
Jack's father by a million or two--in other words, as they say on
'Change, Jack's father could buy ten of him. This motive was perhaps
more likely to influence him than the first. In addition, Sir Harry is
suspected of gambling himself in the funds through the aid of agents;
and a gentleman who resorts to such means to increase his fortune is a
little apt to exaggerate his social advantages by way of a set-off to
the humiliation."

"And GENTLEMEN do really become stock-jobbers, father?"

"Anna, the world has undergone great changes in my time. Ancient
opinions have been shaken, and governments themselves are getting to
be little better than political establishments to add facilities to the
accumulation of money. This is a subject, however, you cannot very well
understand, nor do I pretend to be very profound in it myself."

"But is Jack's father really so very, very rich?" asked Anna, whose
thoughts had been wandering from the thread of those pursued by her
father.

"He is believed to be so."

"And Jack is his heir."

"Certainly--he has no other child; though it is not easy to say what so
singular a being may do with his money."

"I hope he will disinherit Jack!"

"You surprise me, Anna! You, who are so mild and reasonable, to