my affairs. Will you help me to get out of the
hole?"

Richard Frayne was silent for a time, and then he said quietly--

"I can't, Mark."

"What? Why, you said you would."

"Yes, but I thought it meant lending you four or five pounds. I have no
more till my quarter comes round."

"Till your quarter comes round," sneered Mark; "anyone would think he
had his wages then. Here, no nonsense, Dick; you said you would help
me."

"I did, but I can't."

Mark made an angry gesture, but he mastered himself and turned to his
cousin.

"Look here, it doesn't mean money. Simpson knows that you'll have
Quailmere some day, and he said he wouldn't mind waiting if he had good
security. It only means putting your name to a bit of paper."

"Did Simpson suggest that?" said Richard.

"Of course he did, and it means making an end to the trouble. I shall
only have to go on paying the interest."

"Till Mr Simpson chooses to come down upon me and make me pay," said
Richard, with a laugh full of annoyance.

"No, he won't; he said he wouldn't. It's such a little sum, too--
nothing to you! Here, come on with me at once, and let's settle it."

Richard Frayne sat back in his chair, looking straight before him,
unconscious of the fact that his cousin was watching him narrowly, and
who now went on with forced gaiety--

"Wish I hadn't been such a fool as to keep it to myself. Here it has
been worrying my very life out for months, and made me as irritable as a
wasp. You are a good fellow, Dick! But, honour bright, I didn't like
to ask you."

Richard remained silent.

"There, don't think about it any more. Come on."

"But it wants thinking about, Mark."

"What nonsense! You don't know how easy these things are."

"I've often heard," said Richard, drily.

"Yes, of course you have," said Mark, with a feeble laugh. "There, put
me out of my misery, old chap. Sudden death, you know. Come on."

"No," said Richard, quietly. "I promised my poor father that I would
never put my name to paper in that way, and I never will."

"What?"

"You heard, Mark."

"Do you mean to tell me that, after what you have said, you will not
help me out of this bit of trouble?"

"No, I do not mean to tell you that. I want to help you."

"Then, come on."

"Yes, come on to Mr Draycott, and let's ask him what is to be done."

Mark Frayne leaped up from where he had rested in a sitting position
upon the keyboard of the piano, giving h