t
agreeable to him; 'that I have been bred up from childhood with great
expectations, and have always been taught to believe that I should be,
one day, very rich. So I should have been, but for certain brief
reasons which I am going to tell you, and which have led to my being
disinherited.'

'By your father?' inquired Mr Pinch, with open eyes.

'By my grandfather. I have had no parents these many years. Scarcely
within my remembrance.'

'Neither have I,' said Tom, touching the young man's hand with his own
and timidly withdrawing it again. 'Dear me!'

'Why, as to that, you know, Pinch,' pursued the other, stirring the fire
again, and speaking in his rapid, off-hand way; 'it's all very right
and proper to be fond of parents when we have them, and to bear them in
remembrance after they're dead, if you have ever known anything of them.
But as I never did know anything about mine personally, you know, why, I
can't be expected to be very sentimental about 'em. And I am not; that's
the truth.'

Mr Pinch was just then looking thoughtfully at the bars. But on
his companion pausing in this place, he started, and said 'Oh! of
course'--and composed himself to listen again.

'In a word,' said Martin, 'I have been bred and reared all my life by
this grandfather of whom I have just spoken. Now, he has a great many
good points--there is no doubt about that; I'll not disguise the fact
from you--but he has two very great faults, which are the staple of his
bad side. In the first place, he has the most confirmed obstinacy of
character you ever met with in any human creature. In the second, he is
most abominably selfish.'

'Is he indeed?' cried Tom.

'In those two respects,' returned the other, 'there never was such a
man. I have often heard from those who know, that they have been, time
out of mind, the failings of our family; and I believe there's some
truth in it. But I can't say of my own knowledge. All I have to do, you
know, is to be very thankful that they haven't descended to me, and, to
be very careful that I don't contract 'em.'

'To be sure,' said Mr Pinch. 'Very proper.'

'Well, sir,' resumed Martin, stirring the fire once more, and drawing
his chair still closer to it, 'his selfishness makes him exacting,
you see; and his obstinacy makes him resolute in his exactions. The
consequence is that he has always exacted a great deal from me in the
way of respect, and submission, and self-denial when his wishes were in