Todd--that's my lawyer--and I'm going to tell him to make another will
and to leave every farthing I have--and that isn't much short of two
millions, one way and another--to Addison and Roscoe. They don't want it,
but that don't matter. You shan't have it--no, not a farthing of it; and
I won't have a pile like that frittered away in charities and
mismanagement. There now, my fine young gentleman, just be off and see if
your new business principles will get you a living."

"All right, uncle; I'm going," said the young man, quietly. "I quite
understand what our quarrel means for me, and, to tell you the truth, I
am not sorry. I have never wished to be dependent on you, or to have
anything to do with a business carried on as Meeson's is. I have a
hundred a year my mother left me, and with the help of that and my
education, I hope to make a living. Still, I don't want to part from you
in anger, because you have been very kind to me at times, and, as you
remind me, you picked me out of the gutter when I was orphaned or not far
from it. So I hope you will shake hands before I go."

"Ah!" snarled his uncle; "you want to pipe down now, do you? But that
won't do. Off you go! and mind you don't set foot in Pompadour Hall," Mr.
Meeson's seat, "unless it is to get your clothes. Come, cut!"

"You misunderstand me," said Eustace, with a touch of native dignity
which became him very well. "Probably we shall not meet again, and I did
not wish to part in anger, that was all. Good morning." And he bowed and
left the office.

"Confound him!" muttered his uncle as the door closed, "he's a good
plucked one--showed spirit. But I'll show spirit, too. Meeson is a man of
his word. Cut him off with a shilling? not I; cut him off with nothing at