But Cousin Charles, self-elected representative, stepped forward and held up his hand. "We cannot part," he said. "It is impossible for you to leave me with my Cousin Alice----" "Ho!" cried the pew-opener, "you alone with Cousin Alice!" "See you alone, Alice," whispered the bankrupt, on whose weak nerves and ill-nourished brain the champagne was working. "--without drinking--one more toast. We _must_ drink," he said, "to our cousin's illustrious, noble, and distinguished husband. Long may he continue to enjoy the wealth which he so well deserves and which none of us envy him. No, my friends, humble and otherwise, none of us envy him. Mr. Haveril, sir, I could have wished that the family--your wife's family--which is, as you know, one of eminent respectability--an ancient family, in fact, of Haggerston----" "Grandmother was a laundress," said the pew-opener. "Everybody knows that all the Haggerston people were washer-women in the old days." "--had been better represented on this occasion by a limited deputation of respectability--say, by myself, without the appearance of branches, which should not have been presented to you, because we have no reason to be proud of them." He glanced at the decayed branch. "Sir, we drink your prolonged health and your perpetual happiness. We are proud of you, Mr. Haveril. The world is proud of you." With a murmur, partly of remonstrance with the speaker's arrogance and his insinuations against their respectability; and partly meant for a cheer, the family drank the health of Mr. John Haveril. "Thank ye," he said, with no visible emotion. "Now, take another glass--send it round, waiter--while I say something. It's just this." As he spoke his manner insensibly changed. He became the man of business, hard as nails. "I take it that some of you are here to see your cousin again, and some of you are here to get what you can, and some for both reasons. It's natural, and I don't blame anybody. When a body's poor, he always thinks that a rich man can make him rich, too. Well, he can't--not unless he makes over half his pile. And I'll tell you why. A chap is poor because he's foolish or lazy. Either he can't see the way or he won't stir himself. You can't help a blind man--nor you can't help a lazy man. If you give either of them what he wants, he spends it all, and then holds out his hand and asks for more." The bankrupt dropped his head, and sank into a chair. The champagne helped him to apply this maxim to his own case. "The best thing that can be done for any one is to dump him down in a new country where he'll sink or swim. You, sir," he pointed a minatory finger to Cousin Charles, "you would like more capital, would you?" "Not in the presence of this multitude, Mr. Haveril," Cousin Charles replied. "Those who want capital, either here or anywhere else, have got to make it for themselves." "So true--so true," said Cousin Charles. "Listen to this, all of you."