"I am hard upon twenty-three, Uncle Jacobson. I have as much knowledge of law as I need." "And as much steadiness also, perhaps?" said old Jacobson. Sam turned as red as the table-cover. He was a frank-looking, slender young fellow of middle height, with fine wavy hair almost a gold colour and worn of a decent length. The present fashion--to be cropped as if you were a prison-bird and to pretend to like it so--was not favoured by gentlemen in those days. "You may have been acquiring a knowledge of law in London, Sam; I hope you have; but you've been kicking up your heels over it. What about those sums of money you've more than once got out of your mother?" Sam's face was a deeper red than the cloth now. "Did she tell you of it, uncle?" he gasped. "No, she didn't; she cares too much for her graceless son to betray him. I chanced to hear of it, though." "One has to spend so much in London," murmured Sam, in lame apology. "I dare say! In my past days, sir, a young man had to cut his coat according to his cloth. We didn't rush into all kinds of random games and then go to our fathers or mothers to help us out of them. Which is what you've been doing, my gentleman." "Does aunt know?" burst out Sam in a fright, as a step was heard on the stairs. "I've not told her," said Mr. Jacobson, listening--"she is gone on into the kitchen. How much is it that you've left owing in London, Sam?" Sam nearly choked. He did not perceive this was just a random shot: he was wondering whether magic had been at work. "Left owing in London?" stammered he. "That's what I asked. How much? And I mean to know. 'Twon't be of any use your fencing about the bush. Come! tell it in a lump." "Fifty pounds would cover it all, sir," said Sam, driven by desperation into the avowal. "I want the truth, Sam." "That is the truth, uncle, I put it all down in a list before leaving London; it comes to just under fifty pounds." "How could you be so wicked as to contract it?" "There has not been much wickedness about it," said Sam, miserably, "indeed there hasn't. One gets drawn into expenses unconsciously in the most extraordinary manner up in London. Uncle Jacobson, you may believe me or not, when I say that until I added it up, I did not think it amounted to twenty pounds in all." "And then you found it to be fifty! How do you propose to pay this?" "I intend to send it up by instalments, as I can." "Instead of doing which, you'll get into deeper debt at Worcester. If it's Worcester you go to." "I hope not, uncle. I shall do my best to keep out of debt. I mean to be steady." Mr. Jacobson filled a fresh pipe, and lighted it with a spill from the mantelpiece. He did not doubt the young fellow's intentions; he only doubted his resolution.