"We shall have to drop Aubrey Buck, too," said Uncle Joseph. "However, we can't complain. We have done pretty well out of him. Let me think. I know! We will turn him into a retired University Don with paralysis in both legs, who has to do typewriting for a living. He shall send an appeal for work to every lady novelist in the country. Their name is legion. In nine cases out of ten they will send money instead of manuscript." "And if they do send manuscript?" enquired James Nimmo dubiously. "We will keep it for a week," replied Uncle Joseph readily, "and then return it, accompanied by a manly but resigned letter announcing that the paralysis has spread to the Don's arms as well, and he supposes there is nothing for it now but the workhouse. That ought to bring in a double donation. Tell your brother to move from Commercial Road to Islington. We have never had an address there. Were the other places all right?" While James Nimmo proceeded with his report Philip sorted the letters on the table. The conversation did not interest him--he was accustomed to it. But the editor of the "Searchlight" would have appreciated it keenly. Presently James Nimmo departed, and Uncle Joseph and Philip went through their correspondence. The letters were arranged into three heaps. The first addressed itself to _Master T. Smith, care of the Reverend Vitruvius Smith, 172 Laburnum Road, Balham_. The other two were directed to _The Honorary Secretary of the International Brotherhood of Kind Young Hearts, Pontifex Mansions, Shaftesbury Avenue_, and _The Reverend Aubrey Buck, Head Office, The Anti-Popery League, 374a Commercial Road_, respectively. Most of Master T. Smith's envelopes contained postal orders, some of them accompanied by lengthy epistles which blended heavy-handed patronage and treacly sentiment in equal proportions. Uncle Joseph read one or two aloud. _My dear little Tommy,--I feel that I must send you something in response to your little letter, which has touched me to the depths of my heart_. "Only five shillings," commented Uncle Joseph, referring to the postal order. _I hope your father is better, and will soon be about his parish work again. The expense of his illness must have been very great, and I cannot wonder that you should have overheard your mother crying in the night, when she thought you were all fast asleep. Perhaps it was_ wrong _of you to write to me for help without consulting your parents; but, as you point out, it would, indeed, be a splendid surprise if you could go to your father's study with a little money in your hand and say:--"That is for household expenses, dear Father, from an anonymous well-wisher." I think it was clever of you to spell "anonymous" correctly._ "It was infernally silly of you," amended Uncle Joseph, looking up for a moment. "However:--