trader's
instinct that the article was a superior one, and he was content to
allow for the quality in estimating the value.

Early one April afternoon the major was strutting down St. James's
Street, frock-coated and kid-gloved, with protuberant chest and
glittering shoes which peeped out from beneath the daintiest of gaiters.
Young Girdlestone, who had been on the look-out from a club window, ran
across and intercepted him.

"How are you, my dear major?" he cried, advancing upon him with
outstretched hand and as much show of geniality as his nature permitted.

"How d'ye do? How d'ye do?" said the other somewhat pompously. He had
made up his mind that nothing was to be done with the young man, and yet
he was reluctant to break entirely with one whose purse was well lined
and who had sporting proclivities.

"I've been wishing to speak with you for some days, major," said Ezra.
"When could I see you?"

"You'll niver see me any plainer than you do at this very moment," the
old soldier answered, taking a sidelong glance of suspicion at his
companion.

"Ah, but I wish to speak to you quietly on a matter of business," the
young merchant persisted. "It's a delicate matter which may need some
talking over, and, above all, it is a private matter."

"Ged!" said the major, with a wheezy laugh, "you'd have thought I
wanted to borrow money if I had said as much. Look here now, we'll go
into White's private billiard-room, and I'll let you have two hunthred
out of five for a tinner--though it's as good as handing you the money
to offer you such odds. You can talk this over while we play."

"No, no, major," urged the junior partner. "I tell you it is a matter
of the greatest importance to both of us. Can you meet me at Nelson's
Cafe at four o'clock? I know the manager, and he'll let us have a
private room."

"I'd ask you round to me own little place," the major said, "but it's
rather too far. Nelson's at four. Right you are! 'Punctuality is next
to godliness,' as ould Willoughby of the Buffs used to say. You didn't
know Willoughby, eh? Gad, he was second to a man at Gib in '47.
He brought his man on the ground, but the opponents didn't turn up.
Two minutes after time Willoughby wanted his man to leave. 'Teach 'em
punctuality,' he said. 'Can't be done,' said his man. '_Must_ be
done,' said Willoughby. 'Out of the question,' said the man, and
wouldn't budge. Willoughby persisted; there were high words and a