to lessen his income from it. For Mr. Million's brewery, being an old-established institution, had become a sacred 'vested interest,' which it was absolute sacrilege to touch or interfere with. And it is true that 'vested interests' _are_ ticklish questions to deal with; but it happens, now and then, in the course of time, that what is a 'vested interest' with the few (being fed and pampered until it has attained a monstrous growth) becomes a vested wrong to the many. Then the safety of society demands that something should be done to stop the monstrous growth from becoming more monstrous still. The name of Million was well known in the locality in which the Naldrets resided, for a great many of the beershops and public-houses in the streets round about were under the family thumb, so to speak, and it was more than the commercial lives of the proprietors were worth to supply any liquids but those that Million brewed to the thirsty souls who patronised them. And nice houses they were for a man to thrive upon--worthy steps upon the ladder of fame for a man to grow Eminent by! Young Mr. Million was a handsome-looking fellow, with the best of clothes, and with plenty of money in his purse. Having no career marked out for him pending the time when he would have to step into his father's shoes, he made one for himself. He became a merchant in wild oats--a kind of merchandise which is popularly considered to be rather a creditable thing for young men to speculate in; and it was a proof of his industry that he was accumulating a large supply of the corn--having regard probably to its future value in the market. But in this respect he was emulated by many who deem it almost a point of honour to have their granaries well supplied with the commodity. As the young men enter the room, Bessie's eyes brighten. She knows George's footsteps well, and has not recognised the other. George enters first, and he has drawn Bessie to him and kissed her, and she him, before she sees young Mr. Million. When she does see that heir to the family brewery, she gently releases herself from George's embrace, and stands a little aside, with a heightened colour in her face. The action is perfectly natural, and just what a modest girl would do in the presence of a comparative stranger--as young Mr. Million must have been, necessarily, he being so high in the social scale, and she so low. The young gentleman, in the most affable manner, shakes hands all round, and gives them good evening. 'Meeting George as I was strolling this way,' he says, accepting the chair which Mrs. Naldret offers him, 'and having something to say to him, I thought I might take advantage of his offer to step in, and rest for a minute or so.'