"As for not hearing of it,--that's bother. You do hear of it now. And how much more do you want to keep you? You shall have what you want. You meant honest along of Polly yesterday, and you mean honest now." Ralph winced, but he did not deny what Neefit said, nor aught that was implied in the saying. "We'll bring you and Polly together, and I tell you she'll come round." Ralph shook his head. "Anyways you shall have the money;--there now. We'll have a bit of a paper, and if this marriage don't come off there'll be the money to come back, and five per cent. when the old gent dies." "But I might die first." "We'll insure your life, Captain. Only we must be upon the square." "Oh, yes," said Ralph. "I'd rather a'most lose it all than think such a chance should be missed. L7,000 a year, and all in land? When one knows how hard it is to get, to think of selling it!" Ralph made no positive promise, but when Mr. Neefit left him, there was,--so at least thought Mr. Neefit,--an implied understanding that "the Captain" would at once put an end to this transaction between him and his uncle. And yet Ralph didn't feel quite certain. The breeches-maker had been generous,--very generous, and very trusting; but he hated the man's generosity and confidence. The breeches-maker had got such a hold of him that he seemed to have lost all power of thinking and acting for himself. And then such a man as he was, with his staring round eyes, and heavy face, and dirty hands, and ugly bald head! There is a baldness that is handsome and noble, and a baldness that is peculiarly mean and despicable. Neefit's baldness was certainly of the latter order. Now Moggs senior, who was grey and not bald, was not bad looking,--at a little distance. His face when closely inspected was poor and greedy, but the general effect at a passing glance was not contemptible. Moggs might have been a banker, or an officer in the Commissariat, or a clerk in the Treasury. A son-in-law would have had hopes of Moggs. But nothing of the kind was possible with Neefit. One would be forced to explain that he was a respectable tradesman in Conduit Street in order that he might not be taken for a dealer in potatoes from Whitechapel. He was hopeless. And yet he had taken upon himself the absolute management of all Ralph Newton's affairs!