sixpence or a shilling." 

 "Only sixpence or a shilling! As if they were one and the same thing! You talk like a millionaire, Henry, and it pains me to hear you, after the conversation we have had." 

 Harry wilfully observed that he never had been able to study the shillings, and his uncle stood shocked on the threshold, as indeed he was meant to be. 

 "Then it's about time," said he, "that you did learn to study them—and the sixpences—and the pence. You were smoking a pipe when I came. I confess I was surprised, not merely because the habit is a vile one, for it is unhappily the rule rather than the exception, but because it is also an extravagant habit. You may say—I have heard young men say—that it only costs you a few pence a week. Then, pray, study those few pence—and save them. It is your duty. And as for what you say you got for nothing, the ostrich eggs and so forth, take them and sell them at the nearest shop! That also is your bounden duty, unless you wish to be a burden to your mother in her poverty; and I am very sorry that you should compel me to tell you so by talking of not 'studying' the shillings." 

 He towered in the doorway, a funereal monument of righteous horror; and once more Harry held out his hand, and let his elder go with the last word. The lad realised, in the first place, that he had just heard one or two things which were perfectly true; and yet, in the second, he was certain that he could not have replied without insolence—after his own prior and virtuous resolve to sell the curios himself. Now he never would sell them—so he felt for the moment; and he found himself closing the door as though there were illness in the flat, in his anxiety to keep from banging it as he desired. 

 "I fear your Uncle Spencer has been vexing you too," his mother said; "and yet I know that he will do his best to secure you a post." 

 "Oh, that's all right, mother; he was kind enough; it's only his way," said Harry, for he could see that his mother was sufficiently put out as it was. 

 "It's a way that makes me miserable," said poor Mrs. Ringrose, with a tear in her voice. "Did you hear what he said to me? He said what I never shall forgive." 

 "Not about those rotten verses?" 

 "No—about Mr. Lowndes. Your uncle said he didn't think him an honest man." 

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