"Nonsense, dad," cried Tom; "but, I say, what's that in your pocket?" "Oh, nothing, my son, nothing," said the old man, in a confused way, as Tom pounced upon his pocket and dragged out something in a handkerchief. "Why bless my soul," he cried, in a surprised tone of voice, as he raised his glasses to his eyes, "if it isn't a patty." "Yes, gov'nor, and you've been sitting on it. Now, I say, old fellow, that is weak. Pah! why it smells of eau-de-Cologne from your handkerchief. You couldn't eat that." "I'm afraid I couldn't, my dear boy," said the old gentleman, wrinkling up his forehead. "Gov'nor, you're incorrigible," cried Tom. "Only this morning Joseph told me in confidence that you had borrowed five shillings of him, and I had to give it him back, leaving myself without a shilling. Hang me, if you do such things as this again, if I don't tell the old lady." "No, no, my boy, pray don't," said the old gentleman, anxiously, "and I'll never do so any more." "Till the very next time," said Tom, sharply. "Gov'nor, you're afraid of the servants, and you are always stealing something." "I--I--I am a little afraid of Robbins," faltered the old man gently; "and that big footman Joseph rather looks at me; but, Tom, my boy, it ought not to be stealing for me to take my own things." "Well, I suppose not, gov'nor; but it really is absurd to see you send a chicken bone flying across a drawing-room when you take out your handkerchief and your coat-tails stiff with gravy." "It is, my son," said the old man, hastily; "but about Charley Melton. I like him, Tom." "And so do I, father.--He's my friend, and I'll stick to him too." He said the latter words in the hall, as he put on his hat and took his cane, paused to light a very strong cigar of the kind her ladyship detested to smell in the house, and then, with his hat cocked defiantly on one side, sallied out, looking so small in Great Portland Place that he seemed lost. As the door closed upon him, Lord Barmouth came out of the lavatory, and met Robbins the butler and a footman coming to clear away the lunch things. Lord Barmouth looked up and down, and then took the pompous butler by the button. "Robbins," he said, "if her ladyship does not object, I shall not wear my second dress suit any more." "Thank you, my lord," said the butler with solemn dignity. "And, Robbins," added his lordship, in a hurried whisper, "what did you do with that piece of tongue?" "Took it down into the kitchen, my lord." "Ask Mrs Downes to give it back to you, Robbins--for me." "Yes, my lord." "Wrap it up in paper, Robbins." "Yes, my lord." "And by the way, Robbins," continued the old gentleman, after a sharp look round, like a sparrow in fear of cats, "could you oblige me with five pounds?" "Well really, my lord--you see you owe me--" "Sixty-five, Robbins." "And interest, my lord."