"Yes, that's all very well," laughed Brian; "but we quite forgot, in the innocence of our hearts, that these people knew that you had met with disaster in the shape of bankruptcy. The consequence is that I see that most terrible thing--the greed of gold--beginning to glitter in their eyes. However, we're here, and we've got to make the best of it. I suppose we must be fed, and I suppose these good people must be paid. Therefore, as I say, Providence has been good to us and has sent us"--he bowed with charming frankness toward his cousin--"Comethup." The humour of the thing began to appeal to Comethup also. Perhaps it was better that that side of the matter should strike him most clearly, for the rest had become so much a matter of course, that Brian should send to him when the slightest difficulty arose, that he had long since ceased to wonder at it or to be surprised. It was evident that both father and son regarded the thing not as a charity, but as their right; whatever might have been their first feelings, custom had blunted them. Comethup, for his part, could never quite divest his mind of the idea that he was giving an alms, and he tried, therefore, always to carry the business through as delicately. It was evident here that, in a place where Brian's reputation must at all hazards be first considered, there must be no thought of paying the bill directly; appearances must be kept up, and father and son must sail out of their difficulties with flying colours and in good attitudes. That was obviously a matter for Comethup to arrange; it was evident that they waited for him to set about the task. "Do you intend to stay here long?" he began. "About a week, I think," said Brian. "The truth is, I'm a little rusty, and, despite all the delights of town, I sigh for the simplicity of the country-side. Yes, I think about a week; by that time we shall both be bored to death, or shall have had a violent quarrel----" "My dear Brian!" interrupted his father. "And shall have mutually cursed each other and gone our separate ways, until the time arrives for another reconciliation. That's our gentle method of getting through life. At the present moment we are amiability itself; but how long it will last it is quite impossible to say. Do you think we can manage a week here, Comethup? It's not a very expensive place, and the wines, which are atrocious, are not at all dear. What do you say?" "Well, that's for _you_ to say," responded Comethup. "Pardon me," interrupted his uncle, "it is for _you_ to say. In our present embarrassed circumstances, we wait--I may say, with hopes which are certain to be realized--we wait on the word of one who has ever proved our friend. I say it not without emotion; I have recollections of many occasions on which----"