Mr. Taynton stroked the tablecloth for a moment with a plump white
forefinger.

"Crabbed age and youth," he remarked. "But crabbed age makes an appeal to
youth, if youth will kindly call to mind what crabbed age referred to
some five minutes ago. In other words, will you, or will you not, Morris,
spend a very dry three hours at my office, looking into the account of my
stewardship? There was thirty thousand pounds, and there now is--or
should we say 'are'--forty. It will take you not less than two hours, and
not more than three. But since my stewardship may come to an end, as I
said, any day, I should, not for my own sake, but for yours, wish you to
see what we have done for you, and--I own this would be a certain private
gratification to me--to learn that you thought that the trust your dear
father reposed in us was not misplaced."

There was something about these simple words which touched Morris. For
the moment he became almost businesslike. Mr. Taynton had been, as he
knew, a friend of his father's, and, as he had said, he had been steward
of his own affairs for twenty years. But that reflection banished the
businesslike view.

"Oh, but two hours is a fearful time," he said. "You have told me the
facts, and they entirely satisfy me. And I want to be out all day
to-morrow, as I am only here till the day after. But I shall be down
again next week. Let us go into it all then. Not that there is the
slightest use in going into anything. And when, Mr. Taynton, I become
steward of my own affairs, you may be quite certain that I shall beg you
to continue looking after them. Why you gained me ten thousand pounds in
these twenty years--I wonder what there would have been to my credit now
if I had looked after things myself. But since we are on the subject I