The fiddler appeared to deliberate and at last replied: “Because you’re in danger of losing the best friend you’ve ever had.” “Be sure I feel it. But if I’ve got _you_——!” his companion added. “Oh me! I’m very old and very tired of life.” “I suppose that that’s what one arrives at. Well, if I can help you in any way you must lean on me, you must make use of me.” “That’s precisely what I was going to say to you,” said Mr. Vetch. “Should you like any money?” “Of course I should! But why should you offer it to me?” “Because in saving it up little by little I’ve had you in mind.” “Dear Mr. Vetch,” our young man returned, “you have me too much in mind. I’m not worth it, please believe that; and for all sorts of reasons. I should make money enough for any uses I have for it, or have any right to have, if I stayed quietly in London and attended to my work. As you know, I can earn a decent living.” “Yes, I can see that. But if you stayed quietly in London what would become of your princess?” “Oh they can always manage, ladies in that position.” “Hanged if I understand her position!” cried Mr. Vetch, but without laughing. “You’ve been for three weeks without work and yet you look uncommonly smart.” “Well, my living, you see, has cost me nothing. When you stay with great people you don’t pay your score,” Hyacinth explained with great gentleness. “Moreover, the lady whose hospitality I’ve been enjoying has made me a very handsome offer of work.” “What kind of work?” “The only kind I know. She’s going to send me a lot of books to do up for her.” “And to pay you fancy prices?” “Oh no; I’m to fix the prices myself.” “Are not transactions of that kind rather disagreeable—with a lady whose hospitality one has been enjoying?” Mr. Vetch inquired. “Exceedingly! That’s exactly why I shall do the books and then take no money.” “Your princess is rather clever!” the fiddler coldly laughed. “Well, she can’t force me to take it if I won’t,” said Hyacinth. “No; you must only let _me_ do that.” “You’ve curious ideas about me,” the young man declared. Mr. Vetch turned about to the window again, remarking that he had curious ideas about everything. Then he added after an interval: “And have you been making love to your great lady?” He had expected a flash of impatience in reply to this appeal and was rather surprised at the manner in which Hyacinth began: “How shall I explain? It’s not a question of that sort.” “Has she been making love to you then?” “If you should ever see her you’d understand how absurd that supposition is.” “How shall I ever see her?” returned Mr. Vetch. “In the absence of that privilege I think there’s something in my idea.” “She looks quite over my head,” said Hyacinth simply. “It’s by no means impossible you may see her. She wants to know my friends, to know the people who live in the Place. And she would take a particular interest in you on account of your opinions.”