comfortable house to own."

"Buy whichever you choose, father, it will be all one to me!"

"Good lad!" nodded John, "you can leave it all to Natty Bell an' me."

"Yes," said Barnabas, rising and fronting his father across the table,
"you see I intend to go away, sir."

"Eh?" exclaimed his father, staring--"go away--where to?"

"To London!"

"London? and what should you want in London--a slip of a lad like you?"

"I'm turned twenty-two, father!"

"And what should a slip of a lad of twenty-two want in London? You
leave London alone, Barnabas. London indeed! what should you want
wi' London?"

"Learn to be a gentleman."

"A--what?" As he spoke, John Barty rose up out of his chair, his
eyes wide, his mouth agape with utter astonishment. As he
encountered his son's look, however, his expression slowly changed
from amazement to contempt, from contempt to growing ridicule, and
from ridicule to black anger. John Barty was a very tall man, broad
and massive, but, even so, he had to look up to Barnabas as they
faced each other across the table. And as they stood thus eye to eye,