"But I have, my boy--ten pounds." "You have, gov'nor?--Yes so you have." "Take--take it, my boy." "But where did you get it, gov'nor?" "Well--er--never mind that, Tom. I--er--I borrowed it; but I shall pay it again some day." "But, gov'nor--" "Take the money, Tom, my boy. You need not mind, and if I can get away to-night I should like to dine with you." "Then you shall, old fellow; I'll manage that." "But her ladyship?" "Leave it to me, gov'nor." "And about Charley Melton, Tom, my boy--is there any hope?" "Not a bit, gov'nor. He's a poor thing, and not worthy of her." "Oh, dear, dear, dear," sighed Lord Barmouth. "But I'm afraid I couldn't get away." "You leave it to me, and we'll dine at nine, gov'nor. Don't take anything at ours." "No, Tom, no." "Now go down." The old man finished his champagne, thinking of her ladyship's word--_then_. After that he went downstairs, and that night, as good as his word, Tom shuffled him out as soon as the ladies had left the dining-room. It was easily done, and the door was just being quietly closed as they stood under the portico, when from just outside and beyond the pillar there came the sudden burst of music from an organ, as the man who had been playing changed the tune, and as the pair hurried away they brushed against the player, who stood by the area railings in his slouched hat and ragged attire. "What the--" "Devil" his lordship was going to say, for something struck him on the top of his _gibus_ hat. "Copper," said Tom, as the object fell with a pat on the pavement. "Come along." "Yes, halfpence," whispered his lordship, nervously, as he tottered on; "but I do wish Maudey wouldn't be so free with her money to those vagabonds. That scoundrel makes quite an income out of our house." "Never mind, gov'nor, it won't last long. Poor girl, the game's nearly up. Now for what the Yankees call a good square meal." "With a drop of port, Tom, my boy." "Yes; you shall have a whole bottle. Barker's, Jermyn Street," he cried to the cabman, who drew up; and then as the cab drove off--"There, gov'nor, we'll forget home troubles for one night." "Yes, my boy, we will," said the old man, eagerly. "I do wish Tryphie wouldn't be so hard again," sighed Tom, "and just too when she was growing so soft. Sympathy for Maudey, I suppose." "What say, Tom, my boy?" "Thinking aloud, gov'nor." "What about, Tom?" "Charley Melton, gov'nor. He's a regular flat." CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. SAD PROCEEDINGS.