governor don't have to bother about marrying money, cork limbs or
otherwise! Very rich, ain't 'e, Mr. Brimberly?"

Mr. Brimberly set down the decanter he chanced to be holding, and having
caressed each fluffy whisker, smiled.

"I think, sir," said he gently, "y-es, I think we may answer 'yes' to
your latter question. I think we may tell you and admit 'ole-'earted and
frank, sir, that the Ravenslee fortune is fab'lous, sir, stoopendious
and himmense!"

"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Mr. Stevens, and his pale eyes, much wider, now
wandered up from the Persian rug beneath his boots to the elaborately
carved ceiling above his head. "My aunt!" he murmured.

"Oh, I think we're fairly comfortable 'ere, sir," nodded Mr. Brimberly
complacently, "yes, fairly comfortable, I think."

"Comfortable!" ejaculated the awe-struck Mr. Stevens, "I should say so!
My word!"

"Yes," pursued Mr. Brimberly, "comfortable, and I ventur' to think,
tasteful, sir, for I'll admit young Ravenslee--though a millionaire and
young--'as taste. Observe this costly bricky-brack! Oh, yes, young Har
is a man of taste indoobitably, I think you must admit."

"Very much so indeed, sir!" answered Mr. Stevens with his pallid glance
on the array of bottles. "'Three Star,' I think, Mr. Brimberly?"

"Sir," sighed Mr. Brimberly in gentle reproach, "you 'ere be'old Cognac