on in me, but I couple these reports with the fact that
you have again and again deceived me in regard to the repayment of the
loans which you have already received at various times from me."

"I can't help ill-luck, sir," said Morley with a downcast look. "If
men's friends always deserted them at the same time with fortune there
would be an end of all trade."

"Mr Jones," said the other decidedly, "I tell you plainly that you are
presumptuous when you count me one of your _friends_. Your deceased
brother, having been an old and faithful servant of mine, was considered
by me a friend, and it is out of regard to his memory alone that I have
assisted _you_. Even now, I will lend you the sum you ask, but be
assured it is the last you shall ever get from me. I distrust you, sir,
and I tell you so--flatly."

While he was speaking the old gentleman had opened a desk. He now sat
down and wrote out a cheque, which he handed to his visitor, who
received it with a grim smile and a curt acknowledgment, and instantly
took his leave.

Mr Durant smoothed the frown from his brow, and returned to the
drawing-room, where Katie's sweet voice instantly charmed away the
memory of the evil spirit that had just left him.

The table was covered with beautiful pencil sketches and chalk-heads and
water-colour drawings in various stages of progression--all of which
were the production of the same fair, busy, and talented little hand
that copied the accounts for the Board of Trade, for love instead of
money, without a blot, and without defrauding of dot or stroke a single
_i_ or _t_!

Queeker was gazing at one of the sketches with an aspect so haggard and
savage that Mr Durant could not refrain from remarking it.

"Why, Queeker, you seem to be displeased with that drawing, eh? What's
wrong with it?"

"Oh, ah!" exclaimed the youth, starting, and becoming very red in the
face--"no, not with the drawing, it is beautiful--_most_ beautiful, but
I--in--fact I was thinking, sir, that thought sometimes leads us into
regions of gloom in which--where--one can't see one's way, and _ignes
fatui_ mislead or--or--"

"Very true, Queeker," interrupted the old gentleman, good-humouredly;
"thought is a wonderful quality of the mind--transports us in a moment
from the Indies to the poles; fastens with equal facility on the
substantial and the impalpable; gropes among the vague generalities of
the abstract, and wriggles with ease through the thick o