Grobstock's magnanimity responded to the appeal. It would be indeed petty to scrutinise his pockets, or to feel the linings for odd coins. After all he had Manasseh's promise to restore papers and everything of no value. "Well, well," he said pleasantly, consoled by the thought his troubles had now come to an end--for that day at least--"take them away as they are." "It is all very well to say take them away," replied Manasseh, with a touch of resentment, "but what am I to take them in?" "Oh--ah--yes! There must be a sack somewhere--" "And do you think I would carry them away in a sack? Would you have me look like an old clo' man? I must have a box. I see several in the box-room." "Very well," said Grobstock resignedly. "If there's an empty one you may have it." Manasseh laid his stick on the dressing-table and carefully examined the boxes, some of which were carelessly open, while every lock had a key sticking in it. They had travelled far and wide with Grobstock, who invariably combined pleasure with business. [Illustration: "MANASSEH CAREFULLY EXAMINED THE BOXES."] "There is none quite empty," announced the _Schnorrer_, "but in this one there are only a few trifles--a pair of galligaskins and such like--so that if you make me a present of them the box _will_ be empty, so far as you are concerned." "All right," said Grobstock, and actually laughed. The nearer the departure of the _Schnorrer_, the higher his spirits rose. Manasseh dragged the box towards the bed, and then for the first time since his return from the under-regions, surveyed the medley of garments upon it. The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it instantly change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His own face grew white. The _Schnorrer_ uttered an inarticulate cry, and turned a strange, questioning glance upon his patron. "What is it now?" faltered Grobstock. "I miss a pair of pantaloons!" [Illustration: "'I MISS A PAIR OF PANTALOONS!' HE SHRIEKED."] Grobstock grew whiter. "Nonsense! nonsense!" he muttered. "I--miss--a--pair--of--pantaloons!" reiterated the _Schnorrer_ deliberately. "Oh, no--you have all I can spare there," said Grobstock uneasily. The _Schnorrer_ hastily turned over the heap. Then his eye flashed fire; he banged his fist on the dressing-table to accompany each _staccato_ syllable. "I--miss--a--pair--of--pan--ta--loons!" he shrieked. The weak and ductile donor had a bad quarter of a minute. "Perhaps," he stammered at last, "you--m--mean--the new pair I found had got accidentally mixed up with them." "Of course I mean the new pair! And so you took them away! Just because I wasn't looking. I left the room, thinking I had to do with a man of honour. If you had taken an old pair I shouldn't have minded so much; but to rob a poor man of his brand-new breeches!" "I must have them," cried Grobstock irascibly. "I have to go to a reception to-morrow, and they are the only pair I shall have to wear. You see I--"