upon George's paying his own way through life, now that he was of age and
working for himself.

When George found it impossible to pay his week's reckoning out of his
earnings, he blithely borrowed the requisite amount—and a little over—from
friends down-town, and thereby enjoyed the distinction of being uncommonly
prompt in paying his landlady on the dot. So much for character-building.

And now one of these "muckers" down-town was annoying him with persistent
demands for the return of numerous small loans extending over a period of
nineteen months. That sort of thing isn't done among gentlemen, according
to George Tresslyn's code. For a month or more he had been in the
humiliating position of being obliged to dodge the fellow, and he was
getting tired of it. The whole amount was well under six hundred dollars,
and as he had made it perfectly plain to the beggar that he was drawing
ten per cent. on the loans, he couldn't see what sense there was in being
in such a hurry to collect. On the other hand, as the beggar wasn't
receiving the interest, it is quite possible that he could not look at the
situation from George's point of view.

Young Mr. Tresslyn finally had reached the conclusion that he would have
to ask his mother for the money. He knew that the undertaking would prove
a trying one, so he dashed up to his room for the purpose of fortifying
himself with a stiff drink of benedictine.

Having taken the drink, he sat down for a few minutes to give it a chance
to become inspirational. Then he skipped blithely down to his mother's
boudoir and rapped on the door,—not timidly or imploringly but with
considerable authority. Receiving no response, he moved on to Anne's
sitting-room, whence came the subdued sound of voices in conversation. He