But Harry, though he had been made happy by the letter from Florence, had still a great many troubles on his mind. His first trouble was the having to do something in reference to his uncle. It did not appear to him to be proper to accept his uncle's decision in regard to his income, without, at any rate, attempting to see Mr. Prosper. It would be as though he had taken what was done as a matter of course,--as though his uncle could stop the income without leaving him any ground of complaint. Of the intended marriage,--if it were intended,--he would say nothing. His uncle had never promised him in so many words not to marry, and there would be, he thought, something ignoble in his asking his uncle not to do that which he intended to do himself without even consulting his uncle about it. As he turned it all over in his mind he began to ask himself why his uncle should be asked to do anything for him, whereas he had never done anything for his uncle. He had been told that he was the heir, not to the uncle, but to Buston, and had gradually been taught to look upon Buston as his right,--as though he had a certain defeasible property in the acres. He now began to perceive that there was no such thing. A tacit contract had been made on his behalf, and he had declined to accept his share of the contract. But he had been debarred from following any profession by his uncle's promised allowance. He did not think that he could complain to his uncle about the proposed marriage; but he did think that he could ask a question or two as to the income. Without saying a word to any of his own family he walked across the park, and presented himself at the front-door of Buston Hall. In doing so he would not go upon the grass. He had told his father that he would not enter the park, and therefore kept himself to the road. And he had dressed himself with some little care, as a man does when he feels that he is going forth on some mission of importance. Had he intended to call on old Mr. Thoroughbung there would have been no such care. And he rung at the front-door, instead of entering the house by any of the numerous side inlets with which he was well acquainted. The butler understood the ring, and put on his company-coat when he answered the bell. "Is my uncle at home, Matthew?" he said. "Mr. Prosper, Mr. Harry? Well, no; I can't say that he just is;" and the old man groaned, and wheezed, and looked unhappy. "He is not often out at this time." Matthew groaned again, and wheezed more deeply, and looked unhappier. "I suppose you mean to say that he has given orders that I am not to be admitted?" To this the butler made no answer, but only looked woefully into the young man's face. "What is the meaning of it all, Matthew?" "Oh, Mr. Harry, you shouldn't ask me, as is merely a servant." Harry felt the truth of this rebuke, but was not going to put up with it.