"Uncle, dear, don't be so unreasonable," said Louise, leaning back and looking up in the old man's face--for he had thrown his basket and rod on a chair, and gone behind her to stand stroking her cheek--"Harry was at home with Mr Pradelle." "Pradelle, eh?" said the old man sharply. "Not up?" "Mr Pradelle has gone," said Louise. "Gone, eh?" said Uncle Luke sharply. "Yes," said his brother. "Mr Pradelle behaved very nicely. He left this note for me." "Note, eh? Bank-note--" Harry winced and set his teeth. "No, no, Luke. Nonsense!" "Nonsense? I mean to pay for his board and lodging: all the time he has been here." "Absurd, Luke!" said his brother, taking up a liberal meal for a sea-anemone on the end of a thin glass rod. "He said that under the circumstances he felt that he should be an encumbrance to us, and therefore he had gone by the earliest train." "Like the sneak he is, eh, Harry?" The young man met his uncle's eyes for the moment, and then dropped his own. "You'll kill those things with kindness, George. Any one would think you were fattening them for market. So Master Pradelle has gone, eh? Don't cry, Louie; perhaps we can coax him back." He chuckled, and patted her cheek. "Uncle, dear, don't talk like that. We are in such trouble." "About Van Heldre, that boy's master. Yes, of course. Very sad for Mrs Van and little Madelaine. Leslie was down there as soon as one of the miners brought up the news, trying to comfort them." Harry's teeth gritted slightly, but he relapsed into his former semi-cataleptic state, as if forced to listen, and unable to move. "I like Leslie," said Vine sadly. "So do I. At least, I don't dislike him so much as I do some folks. Now if he had been there, he'd have behaved better than you did, Master Harry." "Uncle, dear, don't be so hard on poor Harry." "Poor Harry! Good job he is poor. What's the good of being rich for thieves to break through and steal?" "Ah! what indeed!" said his brother sadly. "Look at Van Heldre, knocked on the head and going to die." "Uncle!" "Well, I dare say he will, and be at rest. Knocked on the head, and robbed of five hundred pounds. My money, every penny." "Yours, Luke?" said his brother, pointing at him with the glass rod. "Thanks, no, George; give it to the sea-anemone. I don't like raw winkle." "But you said that money was yours?" "_Yes_; a deposit; all in new crisp Bank of England notes, Harry. Taking care of it for me till I got a fresh investment." "You surprise me, Luke." "Always did. Surprised you more if Margaret had had five hundred pounds to invest, eh?" "Then the loss will fall upon you, uncle," said Louise sympathetically, as she took the old man's hand. "Yes, my dear. But better have the loss fall upon me than Crampton's heavy ebony ruler, eh, Harry?" The young man looked once more in the searching malicious eyes, and nodded. "Bad job though, Louie. I'd left poor Harry that money in my will."