"Oh!" said old Paul, after listening. "Want to better yourself, do you? Going to London to get four hundred a-year, with a faint prospect of partnership? Have had it in your mind some time to make a change? No prospects here at Islip? Can only just keep your mother? Perhaps you want to keep a wife as well, Tom Chandler?" Tom flushed like a school-girl. As the old gentleman saw, peering at him from under his bushy grey eyebrows. "I should very much like to be able to do it, sir," boldly replied Tom, playing with his wine-glass. "But I can't. I can't as much as think of it under present circumstances." "Who is the young lady? Your cousin Julietta?" Tom burst into laughter. "No, that it is not, sir." "Perhaps it is Miss Maceveril? Well, the Maceverils are exclusive people. But faint heart, you know, never won fair lady." Tom shook his head. "I should not be afraid of winning _her_." But it was not Miss Maceveril he was thinking of. "What should you be afraid of?" "Her friends. They would not listen to me." "Thinking you are not rich, I suppose?" "Knowing I am not, sir." "The young lady may have money." "There's the evil of it," said Tom, impulsively. "If she had none, it would be all straight and smooth for us. I would very soon make a little home for her in London." "It is the first time I ever heard of money being an impediment to matrimony," observed old Paul, taking the first sip at his wine. "Not when the money is on the wrong side, sir." "Has she much?" "I don't know in the least. She will be sure to have some: she is an only child." "Then it _is_ Mary Maceveril!" nodded the old man. "You look after her, Tom, my boy. She will have ten thousand pounds." "Miss Maceveril would not look at me, if I wanted her ever so. She is as proud as a peacock." "Tut, tut! Try. Try, boy. Why, what could she want? As my partner, you might be a match for even Miss Maceveril." "Your what, sir?" cried Tom, in surprise, lifting his eyes from the blue-and-red checked table-cover. "I said my partner, Tom. Yes, that is what I intend to make you: have intended it for some time. We will have no fly-away London jaunts and junkets. Once my partner, of course the world will understand that you will be also my successor: and I think I shall soon retire." Tom had risen from his seat: for once in his life he was agitated. Mr. Paul rose and put his hand on Tom's shoulder. "With this position, and a suitable income to back it, Tom, you are a match for Mary Maceveril, or for any other good girl. Go and try her, boy; try your luck." "But--it is of no use," spoke Tom. "You don't understand, sir." "No use! Go and try,"--pushing him towards the door. "My wife was one of the proud Wintertons, you know: how should I have gained her but for trying? _I_ did not depreciate myself, and say I'm not good enough for her: I went and asked her to have me." "But suppose it is not Mary Maceveril, sir?--as indeed it is not. Suppose it is somebody nearer--nearer home?"