"I'll be bound to say you could, sir," said Pradelle, in despite of an angry look from Harry, who knew his uncle better, and foresaw a trap. "Then I'll guess," said the old man, smiling pleasantly; "you want some money." "Yes, uncle, you're right," said Harry, as cautiously as a fencer preparing for a thrust from an expert handler of the foils. "Hah! I thought I was. Well, young men always were so. Want a little money to spend, eh?" "Well, uncle, I--" "Wait a minute, my boy," said the old man, seriously; "let me see. I don't want to disappoint you and your friend as you've come all this way. Your father wouldn't let you have any, I suppose?" "Haven't asked him, sir." "That's right, Harry," said the old man, earnestly; "don't, my boy, don't. George always was close with his money. Well, I'll see what I can do. How much do you want to spend--a shilling?" "Hang it all, uncle!" cried Harry angrily, and nearly tearing off his locket, "don't talk to me as if I were a little boy. I want a hundred pounds." "Yes, sir, a hundred pounds," said Pradelle. "A hundred, eh? A hundred pounds. Do you, now?" said Uncle Luke, without seeming in the slightest degree surprised. "The fact is, uncle, my friend Pradelle here is always hearing of openings for making a little money by speculations, and we have a chance now that would make large returns for our venture." "Hum! hah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke, as he looked at Pradelle in a quiet, almost appealing way. "Let me see, Mr Pradelle. You are a man of property, are you not!" "Well, sir, hardly that," said Pradelle nonchalantly; and he rose, placed his elbows on the rough chimney-piece, and leaned back with his legs crossed as he looked down at Uncle Luke. "My little bit of an estate brings me in a very small income." "Estate here?" "No, no; in France, near Marseilles." "That's awkward; a long way off." "Go on," said Pradelle with his eyes, as he glanced at Harry. "No good. Making fun of us," said Harry's return look; and the old man's eyes glistened. "Hundred pounds. Speculation, of course?" "Hardly fair to call it speculation, it is so safe," said Pradelle, in face of a frown from his friend. "Hum! A hundred pounds--a hundred pounds," said Uncle Luke thoughtfully. "It's a good deal of money." "Oh, dear me, no, sir," said Pradelle. "In business matters a mere trifle." "Ah! you see I'm not a business man. Why don't you lend it to my nephew, Mr Pradelle?" "I--I'm--well--er--really, I--The fact is, sir, every shilling I have is locked up." "Then I should advise you to lose the key, Mr Pradelle," chuckled the old man, "or you may be tempted to spend it." "You're playing with us, uncle," cried Harry. "Look here, will you lend me a hundred? I promise you faithfully I'll pay it to you back." "Oh! of course, of course, my dear boy." "Then you'll lend it to me?" "Lend you a hundred? My dear boy, I haven't a hundred pounds to lend you. And see how happy I am without!"