mustn't do so again." Passing his daughters, sometimes without
speaking, he then stopped before one of the big chimney-pieces, and,
pulling out his large silk pocket handkerchief, dusted the massive
clocks and candlesticks.

In the billiard-room, at a table drawn up close to the coke fire,
Willy slowly and with much care made pencil notes, which he slowly and
with great solemnity copied into his diary.

"Your sisters are a great source of trouble to me, a source of deep
anxiety," said Mr. Brookes, and he flicked the rearing legs of a
bronze horse with his handkerchief.

"My sisters are only fit for pleasure," said Willy and he finished the
tail of the y, passed the blotting paper over, and prepared to begin a
fresh paragraph.

"I am afraid Grace is scarcely any better; she will not leave her
room. I hear she is crying. It is too ridiculous, too ridiculous. What
she can see in that man I can't think; he is only a man of pleasure.
I've told her so, but somehow she can't get to see why I will not
settle money upon her--money that I made myself, by hard work,
judicious investments."

"That's a smack at the shop," thought Willy, as he placed his full
stop.

"I'll not settle my money upon her," said Mr. Brookes, as he resumed
his dusting; "and for what? to keep an idle fellow in idleness. No,
I'll not do it. She'll get over it--ah, it will be all the same a