y. Sir Lionel, when much pressed by the city Croesus, had
begged him to look to this claim, and pay himself from the funds
which would be therefrom accruing. The city Croesus had done so: a
trifle of two or three hundred pounds had fallen to Sir Lionel's lot,
and had of course been duly credited to his account. But it went a
very little way towards squaring matters, and the old man of business
went on sending his half-yearly statements, which became anything but
"small by degrees."

Mr. Bertram had never absolutely told George of this debt, or
complained of his not being repaid the advances which he had made;
but little hints dropped from him, which were sometimes understood
for more than they were worth, and which made the young Oxonian feel
that he would rather not be quite so much in his uncle's hands. The
old man gave him to understand that he must not look on himself as
an heir to wealth, or imagine that another lot was his than that
ordinary to mortals--the necessity, namely, of eating his bread in
the sweat of his brow.

Old Mr. Bertram ordinarily lived at Hadley, a village about a mile
beyond Barnet, just on the border of what used to be called Enfield
Chase. Here he had an establishment very fit for a quiet old
gentleman, but perhaps not quite adequate to his reputed wealth. By
my use of the word reputed, the reader must not be led to think that
Mr. Bertram's money-bags were unreal. They were solid, and true as
the coffers of the Bank of England. He was no Colonel Waugh, rich
only by means of his rich impudence. It is not destined that he shall
fall brilliantly, bringing down with him a world of ruins. He will
not levant to Spain or elsewhere. His wealth is of the old-fashioned
sort, and will abide at any rate such touch of time as it may
encounter in our pages. But none of the Hadleyites, or, indeed, any
other ites--not even, probably, the Bank-of-Englandites, or the
City-of-London-Widows'-Fundites--knew very well what his means were;
and when, therefore, people at Hadley spoke of his modest household,
they were apt to speak of it as being very insufficient for such a
millionaire.

Hitherto George had always passed some part of his vacations at
Hadley. The amusements there were not of a very exciting nature;
but London was close, and even at Hadley there were pretty girls
with whom he could walk and flirt, and the means of keeping a horse
and a couple of pointers, even if the hunting and shooting were not