The morning call., 1893-12-10

AIler tue last OF DIS guests ndQ departed
Stephen Aldridge left his family in the
drawing room discussing with animation
the incidents of a pleasant dinner party,
followed by an equally agreeable evening
reception. and belook himself to a spug
corner of the Smosing-room, where be
filed himself out glass OF port and began
TO puff meditatively one of his long clay
pipes, which. like man of sense, he in-
fnltey preferred to the choicest Havana.
Hither came through the conservatory,
which opened on this snuggery. his ephew,
George Falconer Rigby, a cigarette be-
tween his fingers, his manner iaunty and
radiant, as of enc on good terms with his
world, and fresh color flushing his face.
for which. as we'll as heightened bright
ness of eye. champagne and probably
stronger eXcitants were responsible. He
had red rose and maidenhair fern bouton-
Mere in the lapel of his dress coat, and
might be pronounced faultlessly arrayed
for evening entertainments. according to
the notions of our time. although he had
not been one of the party at his u1cle's
house. Before be observed his uncle in
the corner he was well across the room,
evidently bent on passing into the cor
rid0r.
"Ah, George, you've some home, have
our own freside. Too fiat, suppose, for
a man of your tastes aud accomplish
ments Sit down and chat with your uncle
Bit on the pleasures of The gay world"
"Yes, uncle, there's no place like home
for sleep. That l allow. But l could not
help 1t Tonight. My engagement at the
club was fixed ahead. and deueed jolly
night it was with Trenton and Rudd. and
just for an hour or so we looked IN at Lady
Melforts and the Ventnors'."
"Went 10 the opera, too?"
No; that is dull Faust or some other
and again. The only stage tolerable is the
Alham bra-plenty of change, rattle and go
there"
"Well. I'm getting old and don't know
these things. / can get along without the
opera or theater myself, but the girls like
to go. And so you have had jolly night?
as you call it, and kept out of humdrum
party at your uucle's SO that your spirits
might not be depressed. Now. when l
WAS young N an l was taught to study
the pleasure of the old people. The old
folks now give way to the young"
You have the advantage of me in that
sort of recollection. but l am downright
sorry to have been absent The Kitsons
and Rentons were here, of c0urse-cha q M
ing girls; and the Burfoots-a deuced
queer set, but good-natured. Ii was pity
to miss it all"
And the young man crossed his legs,
looked at his neat ratent-leather shoes and
blew cloud Of aromatic smoke from his
mouth and nostris as relief to his PEN
sive feelings His uncle helped himself to
sip of port and continued to puff his pipe,
the while eyiug the handsome dark face
OF bis nephew curlously.
by the way, George, what have you
done with your norseSP"
The young man un rossed his legs, gave
an uneasy half hitch round in his easy
chair and looked troubled.
"Oh, l sold them. They were not of
much account, although they cost enough,
and | can do without them for Bit They
hadn't any style in The Row-in fact, were
common nags, and l am glad they're
gone"
And what might you have got for
them?"
Got? On. 1 don't remember quite |!
Now that think of it e150 or SO. A mere
trif1e TO the 9500 | paid"
''Or that l aid. Yes, a mere trfe. And
who got the pair?-a dealer?"
mo, not exactly. The fact is it was
Rudd. He took queer fancy to them and
let him take them cheap. He's a friend
you know"
so you have always said-a devoted
friend! But you don't miss them, and
that's good. When l was young man
could do without horses. You lost 1850 on
that bargain. or l did. Perhaps you will
do better next time with horses, at least |
fope so. 1t is plain you were not born for
business"
mo, wish had BEEN There's no living
without some knowledge, even when
dawdling about in society,""
Now that's sensible remark at least.
II you have sold your horses foolishly.
But did you sell them, or was 1t gift?"
We'll, Rudd and squared it,"
'Not in cash! l see. A debt at cards ?"
Cards! Novel;. that and something
else. l forget a fellow cannot carry
everything in his head"
mo, nor keep everything in his pocket.
Too truei It's the way of young men.
And is Rudd your only credi-friend,
mean. with whom you have transactions
like that?"
''Oh. don't know. owe few small
sums here and there-nothing to speak of.
One hasn't always money in the pocket
when it is wanted, but l am model to
some fellows / meet. Hang it, you have
no figure without little DASH"
Il see. So it is. And you have Just
little dash. How much may you owe, do
you think? Don't beat about the bush to
your old uncle. l have never stinted you
in anything. God knows. Your father,
who is dead and gone, would not have been
SO considerable"
"Yes. uncle. you have been a trump.
That l allow, and / am ashamed not to
hotC butHCu Oub lutIC uoclul lelLUW, But
what's in the bone"
MAY be set right by mending your ways
know you have debts. What do you
think they amount to-"
"Oh. thousand Or so. 1t isn't the hap
piest thing to think about, ana some of
these days I'll REFORM"
Yes, I've been thinking about II.
George. 1t isn't good for you to run ahead
of your expectations. They are not ex.
travagant. All you've got comes from me.
and when l go there won't be SO much to
go round. There's the business, of course,
. but you have been brought up an idle
gentleman, an ornament little expensive.
SO it's thousand or so. Is that all?
rs that all? Let me see. Yes. it can't
be more, and, by the Lord Harry, I'll keep
out of debt when it is off my mind"
MAY be. If you keep off cards, may be.
These debts Of honor are trif1e easy Co
run up, and business men like your uncle
have to pay them. Ny only debts of honor
are to my family. You have drained me
pretty dry of late. George"
Yes, / am so sorry TO be unfortunate "
"Now that comforts me. / hardly like
TO speak about it. George, but l must
speak,"
And the old man cleared bis throat.
Strengthened himself up In his chair, and
opening little secret drawer in the table,