“And you forget one little consideration,” added Mrs. Stapleton. “The money with which these are bought has all to come out of our pockets.” “Indeed! I had certainly not looked at the matter in that light,” replied the Doctor, and he could not altogether repress the ring of irony in his voice. But the mistress of the house adroitly introduced a happier subject of conversation, and “Uncle Fred” resolved that he would no more give utterance to sentiments that brought a frown to his brother’s face. He enjoyed his visit very much, and especially appreciated the attention paid him by his sister-in-law, who drove a pair of beautiful ponies every day for his especial benefit. But he could not get rid of the feeling that all was not well with Felix, who, however, vouchsafed no confidence until the last evening of Fred’s stay. When dinner was over the master of the house playfully observed that no one would be invited to the library that night but Dr. Stapleton. It was a hint which all understood and respected. Mr. Stapleton appeared nervous and ill at ease, first drawing his brother’s attention to one thing and then to another, and all the time pacing the room as if he could settle to nothing. At last the Doctor broke the ice. “If you were a patient of mine, Felix, I should say that you had something on your mind.” “And so I have, old fellow. And I am afraid it is likely to remain there. Fred, do you ever feel the need of confession? I think it must be an immense relief to a man sometimes to tell out his troubles and his sins.” “I cannot say that I have myself ever experienced the longing; but I can imagine that in some cases, when a man is borne down by a secret burden, it does him good to talk it over with another.” “I will try it. In whom should a man confide if not in his brother? And if I keep it much longer to myself it will kill me. Mine is a very common trouble. Fred, I am in dire need of money.” The Doctor had felt that something terrible was coming, and the end of his brother’s sentence seemed so tame that he laughed outright. “You want money?” he cried, incredulously; “then, my dear fellow, what must _I_ do?” The tone and the laugh hurt Mr. Stapleton, and caused him actual pain. “Ah! you do not understand,” he said; “how should you? But it is true nevertheless.” “Of course I have heard before of large businesses, with plenty of capital at the back of them, coming to a standstill for lack of ready-money. I remember one or two failures where there was enough to pay everybody twenty shillings in the pound when affairs were looked into. Is it something of the same kind with you, Felix?” “I could not pay everybody twenty shillings in the pound, and that is not the worst of it.” “Really! You amaze me! But,” and the Doctor gave a glance at the books and the pictures, “you could realise some money if it became necessary, for, of course, a man, and especially a Christian man, must pay his debts.”