be honoured at once; but I cannot give you so much money without knowing
what you are going to do with it.'

'And suppose, father, you do not approve of what I am going to do with
it?'

'All the more reason, my dear, that I should know.'

'Then, father, I suppose you mean that whatever services I have rendered
you, whatever comfort I have given you, what I have been to you all my
life, is not worth thirty thousand pounds?'

'You shouldn't talk like that, my daughter. Everything I have is
yours, or will be, when I die. It is for you I work; it is for you I
accumulate money. You will have everything I own the moment I have to
lay down my work.'

'Father!' cried the girl, standing up before him, 'I do not want your
money when you die. I do not want you to die, as you know; but I do want
thirty thousand pounds to-day, and now. I want it more than I ever
wanted anything else before in my life, or ever shall again. Will you
give it to me?'

'No, I will not, unless you tell me what you are going to do with it.'

'Then, father, you can leave your money to your nephew when you die; I
shall never touch a penny of it. I now bid you good-bye. I will go out
from this room and earn my own living.'

With that the young woman turned to go, but her father, with a