“Suppose your father did find it out—which is not at all likely—you are his son, and you could tell him plainly that your small allowance compelled you to do it.” “I shouldn’t know how to dispose of the bond, if I did take one.” “Oh, I would manage that for you! That is the only thing there would be any risk about; but you are a friend of mine.” “Yes, I know you are a good friend,” said foolish Philip, who, it is needless to say, could hardly have had a worse enemy than the one who offered him such bad advice. “So I am, but I don’t take any credit for that,” answered wily Congreve. “People are apt to deceive themselves about such things, you know, as a son’s appropriating what really belongs to him; but I know the world better than you, and understand how to look at things.” “It may be as you say,” said Philip, growing nervous at the idea of robbing his father, “but I don’t think I like the plan.” “Oh, very well; I only suggested it for your good,” said Congreve, preparing to draw the net around his victim. “If you have any other way of paying me the twenty-three dollars you owe me, it’s all the same to me.” “But I thought,” said Philip, in alarm, “that you were in no hurry about it. You said I might win it back.” “So you may, and probably will; but if you don’t you ought to pay it.” “I will, sometime.” “I really should be glad if I could wait till then, but, as it happens, I have pressing need of the money.” “But if I can’t pay it?” “Then I shall feel obliged to call on your father, and ask him to pay me.” “You wouldn’t do that!” said Philip, panic-stricken. “I shall feel obliged to. It is only a trifle, and he will probably pay it, giving you a little lecture, perhaps, but nothing worse.” “You don’t know him,” said Philip, uncomfortably. “He will be awful mad. He had a cousin who was a gambler, and he has often warned me against gambling.” “I don’t approve of gambling myself,” said Congreve; “but there is a difference between that and a little stake on a game of cards to make it interesting.” “I don’t think father would see any difference,” suggested Philip, who did not himself understand what difference there could be. It is hardly necessary to say to my young readers that common sense is the best teacher in such matters, and that no difference appears to common sense between gambling at cards and gambling in any other form. “Oh, well, you know best about that. Then it would be better that I shouldn’t say anything to the old man?” “No; don’t say anything to him about it,” said Philip, eagerly. “I won’t—that is, if you pay me the money in three days.” “But how can I do it?” asked Philip, in fresh dismay. “Put a bond in my hands, then, and I will dispose of it and give you the balance. You only owe me twenty-three dollars, and a fifty-dollar bond would leave you a handsome surplus. If it were a hundred-dollar bond it would be all the better. Think of having seventy-five dollars or more at your command.”