"Yes, sah; but as yo' didn't like it yo'self, Marse Harry, and de
wine was de most 'xpensive quality ob Glencoe"--

"D--n the expense!" He paused, and gazed searchingly at his old
retainer.

"George," he said suddenly, yet in a gentle voice, "don't lie to
me, or"--in a still kinder voice--"I'll flog the black skin off
you! Listen to me. HAVE you got any money left?"

"'Deed, sah, dere IS," said the negro earnestly. "I'll jist fetch
it wid de accounts."

"Hold on! I've been thinking, lying here, that if the Widow Molloy
can't pay because she sold out, and that tobacconist is ruined, and
we've had to pay the water tax for old Bill Soames, the rent last
week don't amount to much, while there's the month's bill for the
restaurant and that blank druggist's account for lotions and
medicines to come out of it. It strikes me we're pretty near
touching bottom. I've everything I want here, but, by God, sir, if
I find YOU skimping yourself or lying to me or borrowing money"--

"Yes, Marse Harry, but the Widder Molloy done gone and paid up dis
afernoon. I'll bring de books and money to prove it;" and he
hurriedly reentered the sitting-room.

Then with trembling hands he emptied his pockets on the table,
including Paul's gift and the fees he had just received, and
opening a desk-drawer took from it a striped cotton handkerchief,