dust in their very faces!"

"You don't know me one little bit," said Mr. Searle, rather
shirking, I thought, the burden of this tribute and for all
response to the ambiguity of the compliment.

"I should be very glad to think I didn't, sir. I've been to no
small amount of personal inconvenience for you. I've pushed my
way right up to the headspring. I've got the best opinion that's
to be had. The best opinion that's to be had just gives you one
leer over its spectacles. I guess that look will fix you if you
ever get it straight. I've been able to tap, indirectly," Mr.
Simmons went on, "the solicitor of your usurping cousin, and he
evidently knows something to be in the wind. It seems your elder
brother twenty years ago put out a feeler. So you're not to have
the glory of even making them sit up."

"I never made any one sit up," I heard Mr. Searle plead. "I
shouldn't begin at this time of day. I should approach the
subject like a gentleman."

"Well, if you want very much to do something like a gentleman
you've got a capital chance. Take your disappointment like a
gentleman."

I had finished my dinner and had become keenly interested in poor
Mr. Searle's unencouraging--or unencouraged--claim; so interested
that I at last hated to hear his trouble reflected in his voice
without being able--all respectfully!--to follow it in his face.
I left my place, went over to the fire, took up the evening paper