Barney had a well-defined mental process by which he arrived at any plan of procedure. “The great thing, my boy,” he used to say, “is to know exactly what you want, and then go for it.” In going for it the young fellow trampled on anything that came in his path: truth, for example. His one object was success--the kind that succeeds. Having attained that, he was careless of the means. In this instance what he wanted was to prevent any interference with Sartwell, and he knew, if he boldly opposed his mother’s scheme, such opposition would inevitably bring about the meddling he desired to avoid, and at the same time place himself in her bad books, which was financially undesirable. “It will take a bit of thinking,” said Barney to himself, thus showing that he correctly estimated the difficulties of the situation, and realized the shortness of the distance between Wimbledon and Surbiton. Surbiton is a most attractive Surrey suburb with an excellent service of trains. The houses are large, detached, and of the class known in the estate agents’ vocabulary as “desirable.” Stockbrokers in the city are attracted thither as much by the rapid train service as by the desirable residences; thus many of them live there. The rich and retired tradesman and the manufacturer in a large way have given the place an exclusiveness which it could never have attained if it had been a mere resort of noblemen, or a place for the housing of the working classes. It is the rich and retired tradesman who has given England its reputation as a cold and dignified nation. Nothing can compare with a first-class compartment from Surbiton--“Vaux-hall and Waterloo only”--for frigid exclusiveness. Sometimes an unfortunate duke or marquis, coming from his estates in the southwest, chances upon the Surbiton contingent, and makes an innocent and friendly remark. He is frozen into silence by the icy stare of the other five occupants of the compartment.