tongue out of the side of his mouth, like a
schoolboy over a writing lesson.

"No, there," observed the solicitors, pettishly,
almost guiding his hand to the place, and looking
as it they pitied his clumsiness.

"Had I better sign it in full?" asked Mr.
Dove.

"As you're called in the deed," they said,
pushing that document towards him. "John
Henry Dove. The matter's very simple."

"I think I ought to count the money—the
five hundred pounds?" said Mr. Dove, still
hesitating.

"It's all right, and in my possession,"
returned Mr. Dusky, peremptorily.

"I ought to count it," persisted Mr. Dove;
"we always do so down in the shop."

The two solicitors looked at Mr. Lilyseed.

"Let him count it," said Mr. Lilyseed; "it's
only five notes of a hundred each."

The money was handed over to Our Mr. Dove,
who seemed to be getting very nervous. He
counted it tremulously, and then signed the back
of the promissory note in a hurried style of
handwriting. After he had done this, he
crumpled up the bank-notes and the promissory
note, and put them in his trousers-pocket, while
he rolled up the bill of sale, and grasped it like
a stick.

"What are you doing?" shouted Mr. Lilyseed
and the two solicitors.

"I don't know, I'm sure," returned Mr. Dove,
exhibiting a tendency to collapse; "I hope I
haven't got into trouble. I ought to have
consulted my mother."

"Don't be a fool," said Mr. Lilyseed,
authoritatively; "give the deed, the money, and
the promissory note to Mr. Dusky, and go down
to business."

"Oh, I can't do that, sir, to-day; indeed I
can't," replied Our Mr. Dove, excitedly. "I
feel quite ill. I must take a turn round the
houses, or I won't answer for the consequences."

Mr. Dove was evidently very much worked
upon by the occurrence of the morning, and
every attempt to deal with him rationally, either
on the part of Mr. Lilyseed or the two solicitors,
was utterly hopeless. He was left, at last, in
the hands of his employer, simply because no
other practicable course presented itself. He
persisted in retaining the money and papers;
and, what was his in theory, became his in
practice.

During the few weeks left to Mr. Lilyseed to
prepare the decks for his intended insolvency,
the relations of master and servant between him
and his head shopman were not disturbed. Mr.
Dove attended to his duties the same as usual,
while Mr. Lilyseed, as a measure of security,
instructed and paid another young man in the
establishment to watch him closely, for fear he
should dissipate or run away with the five hundred
pounds. Mr. Dove, to his credit be it
said, showed not the slightest disposition to
behave in such an ungrateful manner. He was
soft and timid, but he was not dishonest.

The fourth of that particular January arrived
at last, and melted very quickly into the fifth.
Every bill that bore Mr. Lilyseed's name was
sent back unpaid from his banker's, for the very
sufficient reason that there was no money lodged
to discharge them with. Towards evening a
number of London creditors arrived at Mr. Lilyseed's
establishment with consternation depicted
on their countenances. The next day and the
next brought up the provincial and principal
creditors, who were equally alarmed at the
prospect of heavy bad debts.

They had always been remarkably placid and
ready to renew their confidence in Mr. Lilyseed
when it was the Happy-go-Lucky Insurance
Office that was made to suffer. Any suspicions
they may have had about sharp dealing on the
part of their customer never seemed to shake
their faith, for were they not always paid with
tolerable regularity, and did not the destructive
ravages of the devouring element always produce
a fresh demand for merchandise? Now it had
come to their turn to lose a stake they did not
seem to relish it.

Mr. Lilyseed was not to be seen—he was too
unwell to meet his trading connexions—and Mr.
Dove was put forward to answer all necessary
questions. Mr. Lilyseed's affairs were in the
hands of his solicitor, Mr. Darky, and Messrs.
Nought and Carryone, the distinguished
accountants, had received instructions to prepare
a balance-sheet.

This never-varying answer, while it damped
the spirits, served to satisfy the inquiries of the
larger creditors, but not of the small ones,
especially of one of the small ones. Small
creditors are always inclined to shy in harness,
and so was this one. The withdrawal of Mr.
Lilyseed was an act of bankruptcy, according to
law, and this particular small creditor availed
himself of the act of Parliament. Without
pausing to consider whether he was not playing
into the hands of his debtor by forcing him
before the humane and lenient tribunal of
Bankruptcy, and, much to the disgust of the large
creditors, he obtained sufficient co-operation
amongst claimants of his own class to carry the
point on which he had determined. Before a
week had passed, the following notice appeared
in the Gazette:

"LILYSEED, ABRAHAM, Downy-road, linendraper,
January 19th, at half-past twelve, and March 6th, at
eleven, at the Bankruptcy Court; solicitor, Mr.
Darky, Burglarsbury; official assignee, Mr. Loteus,
Sackinghall-street."

The balance-sheet that Messrs. Nought and
Carryone prepared, was a masterpiece of figurative
art. The materials, it is true, had been
supplied by Mr. Lilyseed, or rather Mr. Lilyseed's
well-preserved books; but what skill they
had shown in grouping these materials! The
liberal fee that was paid to them over and above
the court allowance, was money well laid out
to produce a desired result.

Everything was fully accounted for. Mr.
Lilyseed had been more unfortunate than