"He never did until a week ago," answered Patience coolly, "he used to be a total abstainer, but now--well, you can see for yourself." The long connection that had existed between this strange couple as master and servant, had developed between them a certain amount of familiarity. "I remember," said Garsworth musingly, "that in my last incarnation, I drank ale very much--it was in the reign of Elizabeth, and we drank confusion to the King of Spain--it resulted in confusion to myself. If I had not been a drunkard, I would not have been a pauper; it's a pity this young man should follow the same downward path." "It's his own fault," replied Patience in a stony manner, "he ought to stop when he finds it does him harm." "No doubt," returned the old man acidly, "but did you ever know a man deny himself anything if it did him harm?" "You did." "Yes, because I had an object to gain. The life I led in Town was very pleasant, but it would have left me a pauper for my next incarnation." It was no use trying to argue the old man out of his delusion, so Patience said nothing, but stood beside him in grim silence with folded arms. "I'll enjoy myself when I'm born again," pursued Garsworth exultingly. "I will have plenty of money and a new body. I will have youth once again. Oh, youth! youth! how short are your golden hours. Young men never know the treasure they possess in youth, and waste it in idleness and folly; there's that child you brought up, Reginald Blake----" "I did not bring him up." "Well, well," rejoined Garsworth testily. "You know what I mean, you were his nurse--but he has youth, good looks, health and talents--why doesn't he go to London with such advantages, instead of wasting his life in a dull village?" "He's got no money," retorted Patience icily; "all you mention go for nothing without money." "No doubt, no doubt," muttered Garsworth, his eyes gleaming; "money is a necessity--still he has talents, I hear." "What can talents do?" "Everything; a clever brain commands the world." "I dare say," retorted Patience ironically, "if it gets money to give it a start. Master Reginald has it in him to make a great name by his voice, but he needs help--the help of money--who will give him that help?" She eyed the old man keenly as she spoke. "Ah, who indeed?" he replied carelessly, "who indeed?" "Why not yourself?" said the housekeeper eagerly. "I?" he ejaculated in surprise. "Yes, you," she retorted vehemently. "I was as you say the nurse of that boy. I have loved him far more than his dead parents ever did; they left him to me, and I stood in his mother's place: it is my dearest wish that he should succeed--with money he can do so. I have served you long and faithfully and asked no favour, but now that you have mentioned his name, I ask this first and last favour of you, give him money and help him to succeed."