It was impossible to call such a man as Sir Matthew a fool, and the boy turned to greet the lawyer, and was surprised to find that unlike the typical solicitor of fiction he was a very noble looking man of the old school, gentle and courtly in manner, and evidently understanding how embarrassing the interview must be to a lad of thirteen. “Sit down, Ralph,” said Sir Matthew, motioning him to a chair, “there are several things I must talk to you about.” Ralph obeyed, not without a curious sensation at being ordered about in his own home by a perfect stranger. “Mr. Marriott and I,” resumed his godfather, “have been looking into your father’s affairs on our way from London, and as a matter of fact they were pretty well known to me before. I grieve to say, my boy, that he has left you quite unprovided for.” “I--I knew,” said Ralph, “that father had lost a great deal of money lately--it was through some company that failed: he told me he never would have speculated, but he wanted very much to make money and send me to Winchester and then to Oxford; he couldn’t do that, you know, only out of the living. But he blamed himself for having done it; he said it was no better than gambling.” Sir Matthew had paced up and down the room restlessly during this speech, he seemed to be moved by it, and it was the lawyer who first broke the silence. “You are happy,” he said to Ralph, “in having the memory of a father who was just enough to recognise his own mistakes, and noble enough to confess them. Be warned, my boy, and never in the future dabble in speculation.” Sir Matthew returned to his former position on the hearthrug. “In the meantime,” he said with displeasure in his tone, “his more useful study will be how to live in the present.” “That,” said Mr. Marriott gravely, “is a matter which you, Sir Matthew, will no doubt help him to consider.” Ralph, with a child’s quick consciousness that something lay beneath these words which he did not altogether understand, glanced from one to the other in some perplexity. He saw that Sir Matthew was angry with the lawyer, and that the lawyer disapproved somehow of Sir Matthew. “I wish Mr. Marriott had been my godfather,” he thought to himself. “I like him twice as well. Sir Matthew orders one about as though he bossed the whole world.” And then, as often happens, he was forced to modify his rather severe criticism of his godfather, for Sir Matthew with a genuinely kind glance drew him nearer, and laying a hand on his shoulder, said in the most genial of voices: “Don’t you be afraid, my boy, I’ll see you through your trouble. Leave everything to me. We’ll have you a Wykehamist as I know your father wished, and then make a parson of you, eh?” “Oh no, thank you,” said Ralph, “I couldn’t be a clergyman, I don’t want to be that at all.” “Eh! What! you have already some other idea? Come tell me, for it’s a real help to know what a boy’s tastes are.” “I want to be an actor,” said Ralph quietly.