niture, Fredi with
her singing lessons, and he with his business; a grasp of many ribands,
reining-in or letting loose; always enjoyable in the act. Recently only
had he known when at home, a relaxation, a positive pleasure in looking
forward to the hours of the City office. This was odd, but so it was;
and looking homeward from the City, he had a sense of disappointment
when it was not Concert evening. The Cormyns, the Yatts, and Priscilla
Graves, and Pempton, foolish fellow, and that bothering Barmby, and
Peridon and Catkin, were the lineing of his nest. Well, and so they
had been before Lakelands rose. What had induced!... he suddenly felt
foreign to himself. The shrouded figure of his lost Idea on London
Bridge went by.

A peep into the folds of the shroud was granted him:--Is it a truth,
that if we are great owners of money, we are so swollen with a force not
native to us, as to be precipitated into acts the downright contrary of
our tastes?

He inquired it of his tastes, which have the bad habit of unmeasured
phrasing when they are displeased, and so they yield no rational
answer. Still he gave heed to violent extraneous harpings against money.
Epigrams of Colney's; abuse of it and the owners of it by Socialist
orators reported in some newspaper corner; had him by the ears.

They ceased in the presence of Lady Grace Halley, who entered his
office to tell him she was leaving town for Whinfold, her husband's
family-seat, where the dear man lay in evil case. She signified her
resignation to the decrees from above, saying generously:

'You look troubled, my friend. Any bad City news?'

'I look troubled?' Victor said laughing, and bethought him of what the
trouble might be. 'City news would not cause the look. Ah, yes;--I was
talking in the street to a friend of mine on horseback the other day,
and he kept noticing his horse's queer starts. We spied half a dozen
children in the gutter, at the tail of the horse, one of them plucking
at a hair. "Please, sir, may I have a hair out of your horse's tail?"
said the mite. We patted the poor horse that grew a tail for urchins to
pluck at. Men come to the fathers about their girls. It's my belief that
mothers more easily say no. If they learn the word as maids, you'll say!
However, there's no fear about my girl. Fredi's hard to snare. And what
brings you Cityward?'

'I want to know whether I shall do right in selling out of the Tiddler
mine.'

'You have multiplied your