cheerfulness. 'I am living at present at the rate of one hundred a year,

with unlimited pens and paper; the British Museum at which to get books;

and all the newspapers I choose to read. But it's extraordinary how

little a man of intellectual interest requires to bother with books in a

progressive age. The newspapers supply all the conclusions.'

'I'll tell you what,' said Michael, 'come and stay with me.'

'Michael,' said the old gentleman, 'it's very kind of you, but you

scarcely understand what a peculiar position I occupy. There are some

little financial complications; as a guardian, my efforts were not

altogether blessed; and not to put too fine a point upon the matter, I

am absolutely in the power of that vile fellow, Morris.'

'You should be disguised,' cried Michael eagerly; 'I will lend you a

pair of window-glass spectacles and some red side-whiskers.'

'I had already canvassed that idea,' replied the old gentleman, 'but

feared to awaken remark in my unpretentious lodgings. The aristocracy, I

am well aware--'

'But see here,' interrupted Michael, 'how do you come to have any money

at all? Don't make a stranger of me, Uncle Joseph; I know all about the

trust, and the hash you made of it, and the assignment you were forced

to make to Morris.'

152

The Wrong Box