Then we got on famously. He cried much over his poor lost love, and was so tender with me that he completely won me from my reserve, and I ended by recounting to him the whole tale of my fortunes, even up to the present moment. “That Herring!” he said: “a fine guardian to my girl! I knew the stoat well in my time. Let him beware, now that she has found her natural protector.” He swelled with indignation, as I with pleasure. “You have gifts, presents from him, no doubt,” he said fiercely. “What do you say to my taking them all back, and throwing them in his face?” “I say, certainly not,” I answered. “Ah well!” he said, “you have got them, anyhow; and the thought will wring his covetous soul.” At this moment a great voice roared, “Johnson, you devil!” down below somewhere. My father got quickly to his feet. “Ay,” he answered, to my look; “’tis me, Di--the pseudonym I go by. Fact is, child, I’m temporarily under a financial cloud, and forced to eke out a living, while awaiting the moment of my complete restoration to fortune, by service--that is to say, by taking it, hem!” “By taking service?” “Exactly. A sort of elegant cicerone and social introducer to a damned old parvenu curmudgeon, who wants to learn at what lowest outlay to himself he can pose as a gentleman. ’Tis tiresome, though in its way amusing; but I really think I shall have to cut the old rascal on his taste in liquor. For a palate like mine, you know--small beer and blue ruin, faugh! You haven’t change for a guinea, my angelic?” “Johnson!” roared the voice again. “Coming, sir, coming!” cried my papa; and, seeing me unresponsive, skipped out of the room. He was with us continually during the fortnight after our arrival; and I had no least idea of the consequences awaiting me, when one afternoon a hastily scribbled note, dated “_en route_ for the Continent,” was delivered at the house door by a porter, and sent up to me. I read it, shrieked, and sank half fainting into a chair. “I have taken, dear daughter,” it said, “the entire responsibility for our monetary affairs upon my own shoulders. To live on one’s capital is, like the self-eating pelican, to devour the substance of the unborn generations. Seeing how you appeared quite unaccountably callous to the natural claims of your prospective family (for, with your attractions, you cannot hope to escape one), I, as its prospective grandfather, have asserted my prerogative by appropriating our principal to its properest uses of investment. The stocking you will find still reposing in its secret _cache_ behind the hangings of your dressing-table; but you will find it empty. Do not blame me, but console yourself with the conviction that in a few weeks I shall be in a position to return you your principal _at least trebled_. In the meanwhile, accept the assurances of my love and protection.”