imself, and finding nothing was said, fingered to Mrs. Sclater,
"This is my birthday."

"I wish you many happy returns," she answered, with kind
empressement. "How old are you to-day?"

"Twenty-one," he answered--by holding up all his fingers twice and
then a forefinger.

She looked struck, and glanced at her husband, who thereupon, in his
turn, gave utterance to the usual formula of goodwill, and said no
more. Seeing he was about to leave the table, Gibbie, claiming his
attention, spelled on his fingers, very slowly, for Mr. Sclater was
slow at following this mode of communication:

"If you please, sir, I want to be put in possession of my property
as soon as possible."

"All in good time, Sir Gilbert," answered the minister, with a
superior smile, for he clung with hard reluctance to the last
vestige of his power.

"But what is good time?" spelled Gibbie with a smile, which, none
the less that it was of genuine friendliness, indicated there might
be difference of opinion on the point.

"Oh! we shall see," returned the minister coolly. "These are not
things to be done in a hurry," he added, as if he had been guardian
to twenty wards in chancery before, "We'll see in a few days what
Mr. Torrie proposes."

"But I want my money at once," insisted Gibbie. "I have been waiting
for it, and now it is time, and why should I wait still?"

"To learn patience, if for no other reason, Sir Gilbert," answered
the minister, with a hard laugh, meant to be jocular. "But indeed
such affairs cannot be managed in a moment. You will have plenty of
time to make a good use of your money, if you should have to wait
another year or two."

So saying he pushed back his plate and cup, a trick he had, and rose
from the table.

"When will you see Mr. Torrie?" asked Gibbie, rising too, and
working his telegraph with greater rapidity than before.

"By and by," answered Mr. Sclater, and walked towards the door. But
Gibbie got between him and it.

"Will you go with me to Mr. Torrie to-day?" he asked.

The minister shook his head. Gibbie withdrew, seeming a little
disappointed. Mr. Sclater left the room.

"You don't understand business, Gilbert," said Mrs. Sclater.

Gibbie smiled, got his writing-case, and sitting down at the table,
wrote as follows:--

"Dear Mr. Sclater,--As you have never failed in your part, how can
you wish me to fail in mine? I am now the one accountable for this
money, which surely has been id