ore the banker, and stroking his chin with the most elegant
assurance.

Mr. Checkynshaw utterly ignored Fitz, took no notice of him, passed him
by in silence.

"The consideration mentioned in the quitclaim deed, Ellen, was ten
thousand dollars," continued the great man. "Of course you are ready to
pay this back."

"Not at all, sir; we are not ready to pay it back," said Fitz; "but we
are ready to give you a receipt for it on account."

"It is hardly right, Ellen, that I should furnish money for you to
carry on a suit against me. I gave it to you to keep you from the
almshouse, and that you might be independent of any neglect on my part
in the future. This money is now to be wasted in idle litigation--in
paying the expenses of a lawsuit brought for the sole purpose of
annoying me."

"The suit is brought in the name of justice and humanity," shouted
Fitz, eloquently, and with a spread-eagle gesture. "The palladium of
our liberties--"

"Be still, Fitz--don't be silly!" interposed his mother.

Fitz's elegant speech was nipped in the bud.

"I don't like to do it, Ellen, but I must insist that the money be paid
back to me immediately," added the banker. "It is not right for you to
spend money given to keep you out of the poorhouse in annoying your
benefactor."

Mr. Checkynshaw looked injured.

"I am willing to pay the money back as soon as I can," added Mrs.
Wittleworth.

"We are not willing to pay the money back, mother. That would not be
proper or business-like, when Mr. Checkynshaw owes us at least fifty
thousand dollars for back rents of the block of stores," Fitz
protested.

"I shall have to sue you at once, unless the money is paid," said Mr.
Checkynshaw, mildly. "Your husband brought the suit against me without
giving me any notice. I wished to take a more Christian course with
you; but I can stay no longer to be insulted by this puppy!" And the
banker nodded his head in the direction of Fitz.

"Puppy!" yelled Mr. Wittleworth, throwing back his head. "Puppy!"

"Be still, Fitz!" said his mother.

"Be still, and be called a puppy!"

"Mr. Checkynshaw, I can only say that I meant to do right," added Mrs.
Wittleworth.

"Puppy!" howled Fitz, pacing the room violently. "Puppy!"

"You meant to do right!" exclaimed the banker.

"I did. You told me that Marguerite was alive and well, and that I
was--"

"A puppy! That's an insult!" soliloquized Mr. Wittleworth.

"That I was not the legal heir; that I