attempted to borrow money from him. I have never cost him a shilling.
When I was in the wine business he might have enabled me to make a
large fortune simply by settling on me then the reversion of property
which, when he dies, ought to be my own. He was so perversely
ignorant that he would make no inquiry, but chose to think that I was
ruining myself, at the only time of my life when I was really doing
well."

"But he had a right to act as he pleased," urged Kate.

"Certainly he had. But he had no right to resent my asking such a
favour at his hands. He was an ignorant old fool not to do it; but I
should never have quarrelled with him on that account. Nature made
him a fool, and it wasn't his fault. But I can't bring myself to
kneel in the dirt before him simply because I asked for what was
reasonable."

The two men said very little to each other. They were never alone
together except during that half-hour after dinner in which they
were supposed to drink their wine. The old Squire always took three
glasses of port during this period, and expected that his grandson
would take three with him. But George would drink none at all.
"I have given up drinking wine after dinner," said he, when his
grandfather pushed the bottle over to him. "I suppose you mean that
you drink nothing but claret," said the Squire, in a tone of voice
that was certainly not conciliatory. "I mean simply what I say," said
George--"that I have given up drinking wine after dinner." The old
man could not openly quarrel with his heir on such a point as that.
Even Mr Vavasor could not tell his grandson that he was going to the
dogs because he had become temperate. But, nevertheless, there was
offence in it; and when George sat perfectly silent, looking at the
fire, evidently determined to make no attempt at conversation, the
offence grew, and became strong. "What the devil's the use of your
sitting there if you neither drink nor talk?" said the old man. "No
use in the world, that I can see," said George; "if, however, I were
to leave you, you would abuse me for it." "I don't care how soon you
leave me," said the Squire. From all which it may be seen that George
Vavasor's visit to the hall of his ancestors was not satisfactory.

On the fourth day, about noon, came Aunt Greenow's reply. "Dearest
Kate," she said, "I am not going to do what you ask me,"--thus
rushing instantly into the middle of her subject.

You see, I don't know my nephew, and h