“Loans of money are not always favors, Mark,” responded the other, thoughtfully; “and when I make them, I like to know whether they promise any real benefit. I could, as you say, have transacted the business through the mail, but I confess, Mark, I have lately had some misgivings and doubts whether your commercial fabric here in Boston was not too big and broad for the foundation; and I thought I would come, see, and judge for myself.” “But I only asked for the loan of a few thousands,” said Mark, meekly. “The fact is, Arthur, that, owing to some bad luck and disappointments in money matters, I am, just now, a little embarrassed about meeting some of my engagements; and I trust you will not refuse to give me a lift. What say you, Arthur?” “I don’t say, but will see and decide,” replied the other. “But, Mark,” he added, after a pause, “Mark, what will this useless parade here to-night cost you?” “O, a mere trifle,--a few hundreds, perhaps.” “And you think hundreds well spent, when you are wanting thousands to pay your debts, do you?” “O, you know, Arthur, a man, to keep up his credit, must _display_ a little once in a while.” “No, I did not know that, Mark. I did not know that the throwing away of hundreds would help a man’s credit in thousands, especially with those whose opinion would be of any use to him. But go,” added the speaker, rising, “go and see to your company: I can take care of myself.” The brothers, rising from an interview in which they had felt, perhaps, nearly an equal degree of secret embarrassment,--the one believing that his last hope hung on the result, and the other feeling conscious of entering on a most ungracious duty,--now separated, and mingled with the gay throng, who, swaying hither and thither, and, seemingly without end or aim, moving round and round their limited range of apartments, like the froth in the circling eddies of a whirlpool, continued to laugh, flirt, and chatter on, till the advent of the last act of the social farce,--the throwing open of a suit of hitherto sealed apartments, and the welcome disclosure of the varied and costly delicacies of the loaded refreshment tables, which the company, by their strong and simultaneous rush thitherward, the rattling of knives and forks, spoons and glasses, the rapid popping of champagne corks, and the low, eager hum of gratified voices that followed, evidently deemed the best, as well as the closing, act of the evening’s entertainment. While this scene was in progress, Gaut Gurley, who had been for some time in vain watching the opportunity, caught Mark Elwood unoccupied in one of the vacated apartments, and abruptly approached and confronted him. “Well, what now, Gaut?” exclaimed Elwood, with an assumed air of pettishness, after finding there was no further chance of escaping an interview which he had evidently been trying to avoid; “what would you have now?”