his opinion that
Chancery barristers were rogues of a dye somewhat less black than the
others, and that he would select to be a rogue of that colour. The
matter was therefore so settled.

His first step, then, was to see his uncle. He told himself--and as
he thought, truly--that his doing so was a duty, disagreeable in all
respects, to be attended with no pecuniary results, but necessary
to be performed. In truth, however, the teaching of Sir Lionel and
Harcourt had not been altogether without effect: at this present
moment, having just paid to Mr. Neversaye Die his first yearly
contribution, he was well-nigh penniless; and, after all, if a rich
uncle have money to bestow, why should he not bestow it on a nephew?
Money, at any rate, was not in itself deleterious. So much George was
already prepared to allow.

He therefore called on his uncle in the City. "Ha! George--what;
you're back, are you? Well, come and dine at Hadley to-morrow. I must
be at the Bank before three. Good-bye, my boy."

This was all his uncle said to him at their first meeting. Then he
saw Mr. Pritchett for a moment.

"Oh, Mr. George, I am glad to see you back, sir; very glad indeed,
sir. I hear you have been to very foreign parts. I hope you have
always found the money right, Mr. George?"

Mr. George, shaking hands with him, warmly assured him that the money
had always been quite right--as long as it lasted.

"A little does not go a long way, I'm sure, in those very foreign
parts," said Mr. Pritchett, oracularly. "But, Mr. George, why didn't
you write, eh, Mr. George?"

"You don't mean to say that my uncle expected to hear from me?"

"He asked very often whether I had any tidings. Ah! Mr. George, you
don't know an old man's ways yet. It would have been better for you
to have been led by me. And so you have seen Mr. Lionel--Sir Lionel,
I should say now. I hope Sir Lionel is quite well."

George told him that he had found his father in excellent health, and
was going away, when Mr. Pritchett asked another question, or rather
made another observation. "And so you saw Miss Waddington, did you,
Mr. George?"

Bertram felt that there was that in his countenance which might again
betray him; but he managed to turn away his face as he said, "Yes, I
did meet her, quite by chance, at Jerusalem."

"At Jerusalem!" said Mr. Pritchett, with such a look of surprise,
with such an awe-struck tone, as might have suited some acquaintance
of Aeneas's, on