“I have already learned to live within my means, and so has my mother; so I think we shall contrive to get along without any absolute suffering. On seventy thousand a year we ought to be fairly comfortable. But I wonder how those poor people who have only twenty or thirty thousand a year contrive to get along. Do they go hungry and out at the elbows?” “I suppose they do, metaphorically at least. They have to live on their fat as I do.” “They don’t all have it to live on.” “They grub along somehow; and you who have enough to keep you out of the almshouse ought to be kind and charitable when you meet a poor fellow with only twenty thousand a year. But we wander. A million is enough for you; and in view of the fact that you are confronting some difficulty in spending even half of your income, my responsibility as trustee is becoming very serious.” “I am sorry for you, my dear trustee, and I am sure I shall make your duties come easier upon you by and by; but I hope this heavy burden will not cause you to lose any of your flesh,” laughed Louis. “I am willing to sacrifice half of my fat in any good cause, such as saving you from the disaster of becoming a double millionaire, or even worse than that. Buy a yacht? Certainly! Purchase half a dozen of them rather than have your fortune increased. That would compel me to make additional investments for you, and I should be overworked,” said the good man, puffing as though he were already suffering from his financial exertions. “I don’t want a high-flyer yacht like the Blanche. I have my own ideas of yachting; and I am afraid I shall not be able to do a great deal in getting rid of the income; but I will exert myself in that direction.” “That’s right, Sir Louis; do the best you can for me,” added Uncle Moses, fanning himself with a newspaper, as though wrestling with the young man’s income had unduly heated his corpulent frame. “I am afraid I am not competent to scatter a very large income; but I will do the best I can. I was not brought up to that occupation.” “I suppose you have your eye on a yacht that will suit you?” “No, sir; not my eye, but my mind is on one. I was talking with a gentleman at the hotel to-day about yachting, and he did me the honor to say that I had the right ideas on the subject.” “What are your ideas, Sir Louis?” “I do not desire an expensive yacht; an ordinary schooner that will not cost over five thousand dollars, with not over six men, will satisfy me. I want to go from port to port, and enjoy myself in a quiet way, and take my mother with me.” “That sounds very sensible for a young knight-errant,” added the squire. “You insist upon setting me down as a sort of Don Quixote who wants to be tilting at windmills and wine-sacks all the time; but I don’t believe I am that sort of a fellow at all,” said Louis seriously.