"Put an angel's liver out of order to be here! I won't put up with much more of it, and so I'll tell him. I shall dress as I like, and do as I like, even if I haven't got a handle to my name. Sir Richard, indeed!-- a pattern for me to follow! Next time the fat old idiot say's that to me, I'll throw the books at his head." "Oh, that's it, is it?" "Yes; that's it, is it!" cried Mark Frayne in an angry tone. "I tell you I'm sick of it!" "Nonsense! What had you been doing?" said Richard, fighting down a feeling of resentment, and looking smilingly at his cousin. "What's that to you?" growled Mark. "Not much; but I wanted to help the lame dog over the stile." "Look here," cried Mark, fiercely; "none of that. If you want to insult me, say so right out, and then I shall know what you mean. None of your covert allusions." Richard Frayne laughed outright, and his cousin took a step forward menacingly. "Why, what has come to you?" cried the former. "Don't be so peppery. I want to help you, if I can." "Do you?" cried Mark, eagerly. "There, I'm sorry I spoke so sharply. That brute Simpson has been writing to Draycott." "Simpson, the tailor? What has he got to write about?" Mark Frayne scowled, and gave a kick out with his leg, but did not answer. "Have you been running a bill with him?" Mark nodded. "Then why don't you pay it?" "Why don't I pay it?" snarled Mark. "Am I a baronet with plenty of money?" "No; but you have as good an allowance as I. You ought to be able to pay your tailor's bill." "'Tisn't a bill for clothes," said Mark, sulkily, and he picked up a book, opened it, and threw it impatiently across the room, making his cousin wince a little. "What then? Surely you haven't been such a fool as to borrow money of him?" "Yes, I have been such a fool as to borrow money of him," cried Mark, savagely. "I couldn't help being short; he offered it to me, and, of course, I took it. So would you." "No, I shouldn't," said Richard, quietly. "He did write to offer me money once--when I first came, and I refused it, and haven't been in his shop since." "But then we're not all such good young men as you are, Dick," sneered Mark. "I did take it, and the brute has been running up interest and renewing, as he calls it, and gammoning me into ordering fresh clothes. He made this beastly jacket, and all sorts of things that don't fit; and now, because I'm not ready to pay his swindling bill and the wretched paper, he has been threatening, and ended by writing to old Draycott." "Pay him then, and have done with him." "Will you help me?" "Of course, if I can." "If you can! Why, you can, if you like." "I don't know about that," said the other, good-humouredly; "I've been spending a good deal of money in music things lately." "Bosh! you can get me out of the hole, if you like." "How much do you owe him?"