Mr. Kennedy, who seemed to be afflicted with some difficulty in
speaking, and whose bow to our hero had hardly done more than produce
the slightest possible motion to the top of his hat, hereupon
muttered something which was taken to mean an assent to the
proposition as to Wednesday's dinner. Then he stood perfectly still,
with his two hands fixed on the top of his umbrella, and gazed at the
great monkeys' cage. But it was clear that he was not looking at any
special monkey, for his eyes never wandered.

"Did you ever see such a contrast in your life?" said Miss Fitzgibbon
to Phineas,--hardly in a whisper.

"Between what?" said Phineas.

"Between Mr. Kennedy and a monkey. The monkey has so much to say for
himself, and is so delightfully wicked! I don't suppose that Mr.
Kennedy ever did anything wrong in his life."

Mr. Kennedy was a man who had very little temptation to do anything
wrong. He was possessed of over a million and a half of money, which
he was mistaken enough to suppose he had made himself; whereas it may
be doubted whether he had ever earned a penny. His father and his
uncle had created a business in Glasgow, and that business now
belonged to him. But his father and his uncle, who had toiled through
their long lives, had left behind them servants who understood the
work, and the business now went on prospering almost by its own
momentum. The Mr. Kennedy of the present day, the sole owner of the
business, though he did occasionally go to Glasgow, certainly did
nothing towards maintaining it. He had a magnificent place in
Perthshire, called Loughlinter, and he sat for a Scotch group of