It occurred to me afterwards that they perhaps expected me to show more signs of distress; if I had thought this at the time I could have obliged them. But that trifling detail makes no excuse whatever for Edward’s subsequent conduct towards me, conduct which has compelled me to write this account of his behaviour. I put it briefly, and I wish to add that I put it truthfully; there may have been times in my career when it has been necessary to step with care beyond the confines of exactitude, but, in regard to this matter, I am telling you nothing that can be contradicted. I wrote to him, you must know, immediately after the meeting, and offered to stop my opposition to his candidature, and to help him, heart, body, and soul, if he would allow me—say, two pounds a week. He replied curtly. I did not apply to him again for quite ten days, and then I wrote saying that, although he could not see his way to accepting my first proposition, perhaps he could let me have a loan. I said I was temporarily out of a situation, and that several excellent offers were being made to me. To keep myself to the truth, I am bound to say that I obtained from him, at various times, amounts which, totted up, would come to a respectable figure. Mark what follows. This morning—this very morning—I receive a letter. Headed “House of Commons.” “I find,” he writes, “that for some years past you have done no work of a creditable nature. I am always willing to help those who are making some effort to earn a living, but I do nothing for the indolent. I can give you no further assistance until you obtain work and show some clear intention of sticking to it.” Apart from the wording of the letter—inexcusable in one who had equal educational advantages with myself—I desire to point out the callousness of its tone; the disregard of family ties. I leave the matter for the world to judge. In the meanwhile, if you know of any one who can be persuaded to assist by spontaneous gifts, I shall not only be saved the necessity of looking for employment, but I shall be enabled to write a sharp, stinging note to my brother Edward. XVI—SAVOIR FAIRE “AUNT kept on saying I ought to bring her up to London with me.” The perturbed lad examined closely the peak of his cap. “What the others seeggested was that I should get you to go down to Railway Terrace and argy it all out with my late landlady. One of the ticket collectors said there wasn’t nobody on the station who could make himself so unpleasant as you, Mr. Swan, when you felt so inclined.” “I do my best,” admitted Porter Swan. “’Nother one recommended you should go down there and knock at the door and pretend to have had a drop or two too much.” “Why pretend?”