"Why not, boy? Look at me. I have no troubles. I pay no rent. My wants are few. I am nearly independent of tradespeople and tax men. I've no slatternly wife to worry me, no young children to be always tumbling down the rocks or catching the measles. I'm free of all these troubles, and I'm a happy man." "Well, then, your appearance belies you, sir, for you do not look it," said Leslie laughing. "Never you mind my appearance," said Uncle Luke sharply. "I am happy; at least, I should be, if you'd do away with that great smoky chimney and stop those rattling stamps." "Then I'm afraid that I cannot oblige you, neighbour." "Humph! Neighbour!" "I fancy that an unbiassed person would blame you and not me." "Of course he would." "He'd say if a man chooses to turn himself into a sort of modern Diogenes--" "Diogenes be hanged, sir! All a myth. I don't believe there ever was such a body. And look here, Leslie, I imitate no man--no myth. I prefer to live this way for my own satisfaction, and I shall." "And welcome for me, old fellow; only don't scold me for living my way." "Not going to. Here, stop! I want to talk to you. How's copper?" "Up a good deal, but you don't want to know." "Of course I don't. But look here. What do you think of my nephew?" "Tall, good-looking young fellow." "Humph! What's the good of that? You know all about him, of course?" "I should prefer not to sit in judgment on the gentleman in question." "So I suppose. Nice boy, though, isn't he?" Leslie was silent. "I say he's a nice boy, isn't he?" cried the old man, raising his voice. "I heard what you said. He is your nephew." "Worse luck! How is he getting on at Van Heldre's?" "I have not the least idea, sir." "More have I. They won't tell me. How about that friend of his? What do you think of him?" "Really, Mr Vine," said Leslie, laughing, "I do not set up as a judge of young men's character. It is nothing to me." "Yes, it is. Do you suppose I'm blind? Do you suppose I can't tell which way the wind blows? If I were young, do you know what I should do?" "Do away with the chimney-shaft and the stamps," said Leslie, laughing. "No; I should just get hold of that fellow some night, and walk him to where the coach starts." Leslie's face looked warm. "And then I should say, `Jump up, and when you get to the station, book for London; and if ever you show your face in Hakemouth again I'll break your neck.'" "You must excuse me, Mr Luke; I'm busy this morning," said Leslie, and he began to descend the steep path. "Touched him on the tender place," said Uncle Luke, with a chuckle. "Humph! wonder whether Louie will come and see me to-day."