Uncle Arthur led the way into his inner office, closed the door, seated himself, and with austerity surveyed the youth before him, taking in with deliberate thought the far-from-inexpensive blue-serge suit, the five-dollar straw hat, the bamboo stick (which Henry carried anything but airily now), and the hopelessly futile little moustache. 'Sit down,' said Uncle Arthur. Henry sat down. Uncle Arthur opened a drawer, took up two slips of paper, deliberately laid them before his nephew. 'There,' he said, 'is my cheque for one thousand forty-six dollars and twenty-nine cents. It is the value, with interest to this morning, of one bond which I am buying from you, at the price given in to-day's quotations. Kindly sign the receipt. Right there.' He dipped a pen and Henry signed, then, with shaky fingers, picked up the cheque, fingered it, laid it down again. 'I want no misunderstandings about this, Henry. I am doing it because I regard you as a young fool. Perhaps you will be less of a fool after you have lost this money. Henry heard the words through a mist of confused feelings. 'I will have no more letters and telegrams like these.' He indicated the little sheaf of papers on his desk. 'And I won't have my character assailed either by you or by any cheap scoundrel whose advice you may be taking.' 'But--but he's _not_ a cheap scoundrel!' Uncle Arthur raised his eyebrows. His eyes, Henry felt, would burn holes in him if he stayed here much longer. 'You're hard on me, Uncle Arthur. You're not fair I'm _not_ going to lose----' The older man abruptly got up. 'If you care for any advice at all from me, I suggest that you insist on a note from this man--a demand note, or, at the very outside, a three-months' one. Don't put money unsecured into a weak business. Make it a personal obligation on the part of the proprietor. And now, Henry, that is all. I really don't care to talk to you further. Henry stood still. His uncle turned brusquely away. 'But--but--' Henry said unsteadily, 'Uncle Arthur--really! Money isn't everything!' His uncle turned on him as if about to speak; but on second thought merely raised his eyebrows again. And then came the final humiliation, the little climax that was always to stand out with particular vividness in Henry's memory of the scene. He turned to go. He had reached the door when he heard his uncle's voice, saying, with a rasp:-- 'You have forgotten the cheque, Henry' And he had to go back for it. 7 One effect of the scene was a slight coolness toward McGibbon. 'I shall want your note,' he said. McGibbon turned his head away at this and looked out of the car window. Then, a moment later, he replied:-- 'Sure! Of course! It's just as I told you--always watch a man who hesitates a minute in money matters.' 'Three months,' said Henry. 'And we can arrange renewals in a friendly spirit between ourselves,' said McGibbon.