suppose," he said. "I know your name very
well. Step in."

And he led the way into his private room—a
mere den some ten feet square, as cheerful and
luxurious as a condemned cell.

"I must beg your pardon, Mr. Behrens, for
introducing myself to you in this abrupt way,"
said Saxon, when they were both seated.

"Not at all, sir," replied the other, bluntly.
"I am glad to have the opportunity of seeing
you. You were a nine days' wonder here in the
City, some months ago."

"Not for any good deeds of my own, I fear!"
laughed Saxon.

"Why, no; but for what the world values
above good deeds now-a-days—the gifts of
fortune. We don't all get our money so easily as
yourself, sir."

"And a fortunate thing too. Those who work
for their money are happier than those who only
inherit it. I had far rather have worked for
mine, if I could have chosen."

Mr. Behrens' rugged face lighted up with
approbation.

"I am glad to hear you say so," said he. "It
is a very proper feeling, and, as a statement,
quite true to fact. I know what work is—no
man better. I began life as a factory-boy, and I
have made my way up from the bottom of the
ladder. I had no help, no education, no capital
—nothing in the world to trust to but my head
and my hands. I have known what it is to sleep
under a haystack, and dine upon a raw turnip;
and yet I say I had rather have suffered what I
did suffer, than have dawdled through life with
my hands in my pockets and an empty title
tacked to my name."

"I hope you do not think that I have dawdled
through life, or ever mean to dawdle through it,"
said Saxon. "I am nothing but a Swiss farmer.
I have driven the plough and hunted the chamois
ever since I was old enough to do either."

"Ay; but now you're a fine gentleman!"

"Not a bit of it! I am just what I have
always been, and I am going home before long to
my own work, and my own people. I intend to
live and die a citizen-farmer of the Swiss
Republic."

"Then, upon my soul, Mr. Saxon Trefalden,
you are the most sensible young man I ever met
in my life," exclaimed the woolstapler,
admiringly. "I could not have believed that any
young man would be so unspoiled by the sudden
acquisition of wealth. Shake hands, sir. I am
proud to know you."

And the self-made man put out his great brown
hand, and fraternised with Saxon across the
table.

"I know your cousin very well," he added.
"In fact, I have just been round to Chancery-
lane to call on him; but they tell me he is gone
abroad for six weeks. Rather unusual for him
to take so long a holiday, isn't it?"

"Very unusual, I think," stammered Saxon,
turning suddenly red and hot.

"It is especially inconvenient to me, too, just
at this time," continued Mr. Behrens, "for I
have important business on hand, and
Keckwitch, though a clever fellow, is not Mr. Trefalden.
Your cousin is a remarkably clear-headed,
intelligent man of business, sir."

"Yes. He has great abilities."

"He has acted as my solicitor for several
years," said Mr. Behrens.

And then he leaned back in his chair, and
looked as if he wondered what Saxon's visit was
about.

"I—I wanted to ask you a question, Mr.
Behrens, if I may take the liberty," said Saxon,
observing the look.

"Surely, sir. Surely."

"It is about the Castletowers estate."

Mr. Behrens' brow clouded over at this
announcement.

"About the Castletowers estate?" he repeated.

"Lord Castletowers," said Saxon, beating
somewhat about the bush in his reluctance to
approach the main question, "is—is my intimate
friend."

"Humph!"

"And—and his means, I fear, are very
inadequate to his position."

"If you mean that he is a drone in the hive,
and wants more honey than his fair share, Mr.
Trefalden, let him do what you and I were talking
of just now—work for it."

"I believe he would gladly do so, Mr. Behrens,
if he had the opportunity," replied Saxon; "but
that is not it."

"Of course not. That never is it," said the
man of the people.

"What I mean is, that he has been cruelly
hampered by the debts with which his father
encumbered the estates, and . . . ."

"And he has persuaded you to come here and
intercede for more time! It is the story of every
poor gentleman who cannot pay up his mortgage-
money when it falls due. I can't listen to it any
longer. I can do no more for Lord Castletowers
than I have done already. The money was due
on the second of this month, and to-day is the
seventeenth. I consented to wait one week
overtime, and on the ninth your cousin came to
me imploring one week more. Lord Castletowers,
he said, was abroad, but expected home
daily. Money was promised, but had not yet
come in. In short, one additional week was to
put everything straight. I am no friend to
coronets, as your cousin knows; but I would
not desire to be harsh to any man, whether he
were a lord or a crossing-sweeper—so I let your
friend have the one week more. It expired
yesterday. I expected Mr. Trefalden all the
afternoon, and he never made his appearance. I
have called at his office this morning, and I hear
that he has left town for six weeks. I am sorry
for it, because I must now employ a stranger,
which makes it, of course, more unpleasant for
Lord Castletowers. But I can't help myself; I
must have the money, and I must foreclose.
That is my last word on the matter."

And having said this, Mr. Behrens thrust his