‘You’re talkative to-day, Mr. Grigg,’ he said; ‘glad to see it. Shows business is good. Well, look here, governor,’ he added, turning to Mr. Limpet; ‘you asked me to come, and I’ve come. What is it you want? To double my allowance, or to get me to introduce Mr. Grigg into the best female society?’ Grigg positively writhed in his chair. ‘Pretty female society it must be that tolerates you!’ he exclaimed. ‘Limpet, settle with your son, and let him go; we’re busy.’ ‘All right,’ said Mr. Reginald; ‘don’t leave off for me; I’ll smoke till you’ve finished. Got the _Sporting Life_ anywhere’?’ Limpet smiled behind a parchment. Limpet had a great admiration for the daring manner in which his boy defied Grigg. Grigg was a crusty old bachelor, and so of course, never had a son, and very likely that made him more disagreeable to young Limpet than he would otherwise have been. ‘Shall I step out of the room, Mr. Limpet, till you’ve finished your family affairs?’ asked Mr. Grigg with a withering smile. ‘Don’t do that,’ said Reginald, jumping up and taking his father’s arm. ‘You might get shut in room C, or room D, or room F, you know, and we might blow up the wrong pipe after you when we’d finished, and have to start all the clerks off in exploring parties through the whole establishment in search of you. Come away, dad; we’ll go into room double X, if it’s empty.’ Limpet called his son a foolish fellow to talk such nonsense, and went out with him into the adjoining room. Mr. Limpet’s command to his son was a very simple one. When it had been given, young Limpet was about to go, when he remembered something. ‘By-the-bye, governor,’ he said, ‘you couldn’t give me a cheque this morning, could you?’ Mr. Limpet thought perhaps he could. He went back into his private office and returned presently with it. ‘There you are, Reg,’ he said. ‘Of course you’re going to cash it at once?’ ‘Rather, governor. I shall take a hansom to the bank.’ ‘Well, then, I wish you’d get me a cheque-book for home, and take it back with you. I haven’t a cheque in the house.’ ‘All right, governor,’ answered Reginald. Mr. Limpet handed his son an order on his bank for a chequebook, shook hands with him, and returned to smooth the ruffled Grigg. At the bank Mr. Reginald Limpet received £20 in gold and a cheque-book. He stowed the gold in his pockct, but the chequebook was not such an easy matter. Wherever he put it it disarranged the set of something. At last, after several vain attempts to dispose of it artistically, Mr. Limpet, junior, decided that it must go in his coat-tail pocket, and if it bulged out behind it must. Into the tail-pocket of his faultless frock-coat went the cheque-book, and the young man, jumping into a hansom, ordered the driver to take him to the Junior Corinthian. The Junior Corinthian was Mr. Limpet’s club. He stayed at the club for an hour, and then strolled up New Bond Street