"Hum! hah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke, as he looked at Pradelle in a quiet, almost appealing way. "Let me see, Mr Pradelle. You are a man of property, are you not?" "Well, sir, hardly that," said Pradelle nonchalantly, and he rose, placed his elbows on the rough chimney-piece, and leaned back with his legs crossed as he looked down at Uncle Luke. "My little bit of an estate brings me in a very small income." "Estate here?" "No, no; in France, near Marseilles." "That's awkward; a long way off." "Go on," said Pradelle with his eyes, as he glanced at Harry. "No good. Making fun of us," said Harry's return look; and the old man's eyes glistened. "Hundred pounds. Speculation, of course?" "Hardly fair to call it speculation, it is so safe," said Pradelle, in face of a frown from his friend. "Hum! A hundred pounds--a hundred pounds," said Uncle Luke thoughtfully. "It's a good deal of money." "Oh, dear me, no, sir," said Pradelle. "In business matters a mere trifle." "Ah! you see I'm not a business man. Why don't you lend it to my nephew, Mr Pradelle?" "I--I'm--well--er--really, I--The fact is, sir, every shilling I have is locked up." "Then I should advise you to lose the key, Mr Pradelle," chuckled the old man, "or you may be tempted to spend it." "You're playing with us, uncle," cried Harry. "Look here, will you lend me a hundred? I promise you faithfully I'll pay it to you back." "Oh! of course, of course, my dear boy." "Then you'll lend it to me." "Lend you a hundred? My dear boy, I haven't a hundred pounds to lend you. And see how happy I am without!" "Well, then, fifty, uncle. I'll make that do." "Come, I like that, Harry," cried the old man, fixing Pradelle with his eye, "There's something frank and generous about it. It's brave, too; isn't it, sir?" "Yes, sir. Harry's as frank and good-hearted a lad as ever stepped." "Thank you, Mr Pradelle. It's very good of you to say so." "Come along, Vic," said Harry. "Don't hurry, my dear boy. So you have an estate in France, have you, Mr Pradelle?" "Yes, sir." "Humph; so has Harry--at least he will have some day, I suppose. Yes, he is going to get it out of the usurper's hands--usurper is the word, isn't it, Harry?" Harry gave a kick out with one leg. "Yes, usurper is the word. He's going to get the estate some day, Mr Pradelle; and then he is going to be a count. Of course he will have to give up being Mr Van Heldre's clerk then." "Look here, uncle," cried the young man hotly; "if you will not lend me the money, you needn't insult me before my friend." "Insult you, my dear boy? Not I. What a peppery fellow you are! Now your aunt will tell you that this is your fine old French aristocratic blood effervescing; but it can't be good for you." "Come along, Vic," said Harry. "Oh, of course," said Pradelle. "I'm sorry, though. Fifty pounds isn't much, sir; perhaps you'll think it over."