"My good fellow, so am I."

"You!" returned Tom. "You are the
picture of independence. Mr. Harthouse, I
am in a horrible mess. You have no idea
what a state I have got myself into—what
a state my sister might have got me out of,
if she would only have done it."

He took to biting the rose-buds now, and
tearing them away from his teeth with a hand
that trembled like an infirm old man's.
After one exceedingly observant look at him,
his companion relapsed into his lightest air.

"Tom, you are inconsiderate: you expect
too much of your sister. You have had
money of her, you dog, you know you have."

"Well, Mr. Harthouse, I know I have.
How else was I to get it? Here's Old
Bounderby always boasting that at my age he
lived upon two-pence a month, or something
of that sort. Here's my father drawing what
he calls a line, and tying me down to it from
a baby, neck and heels. Here's my mother
who never has anything of her own, except
her complaints. What is a fellow to do for
money, and where am I to look for it, if not
to my sister!"

He was almost crying, and scattered the
buds about by dozens. Mr. Harthouse took
him persuasively by the coat.

"But, my dear Tom, if your sister has not
got it—"

"Not got it, Mr. Harthouse ?  I don't say
she has got it. I may have wanted more
than she was likely to have got. But then
she ought to get it. She could get it. It's
of no use pretending to make a secret of
matters now, after what I have told you
already; you know she didn't marry old
Bounderby for her own sake, or for his sake,
but for my sake. Then why doesn't she get
what I want, out of him, for my sake ? She
is not obliged to say what she is going to do
with it; she is sharp enough; she could
manage to coax it out of him, if she chose.
Then why doesn't she choose, when I tell her
of what consequence it is ? But no. There
she sits in his company like a stone, instead
of making herself agreeable and getting it
easily. I don't know what you may call this,
but I call it unnatural conduct."

There was a piece of ornamental water
immediately below the parapet, on the other
side, into which Mr. James Harthouse had a
very strong inclination to pitch Mr. Thomas
Gradgrind Junior, as the injured men of
Coketown threatened to pitch their property
into the Atlantic. But he preserved his easy
attitude; and nothing more solid went over
the stone balustrades than the accumulated
rosebuds now floating about, a little surface-
island.

"My dear Tom," said Harthouse, " let me
try to be your banker."

"For God's sake," replied Tom, suddenly,
"don't talk about bankers! " And very
white he looked, in contrast with the roses.
Very white.

Mr. Harthouse, as a thoroughly well bred
man, accustomed to the best society, was not
to be surprised—he could as soon have been
affected—but he raised his eyelids a little
more, as if they were lifted by a feeble touch
of wonder. Albeit it was as much against
the precepts of his school to wonder, as it
was against the doctrines of the Gradgrind
College.

"What is the present need, Tom? Three
figures ? Out with them. Say what they
are."

"Mr. Harthouse," returned Tom, now
actually crying; and his tears were better than
his injuries, however pitiful a figure he made;
"it's too late; the money is of no use to me
at present. I should have had it before, to
be of use to me. But I am very much obliged
to you; you're a true friend."

A true friend! " Whelp, whelp! " thought
Mr. Harthouse, lazily; " what an Ass you
are!"

"And I take your offer as a great
kindness," said Tom, grasping his hand. " As a
great kindness, Mr. Harthouse."

"Well," returned the other, "it may be of
more use by and by. And, my good fellow,
if you will open your bedevilments to me
when they come thick upon you, I may
show you better ways out of them than you
can find for yourself."

"Thank you," said Tom, shaking his head
dismally, and chewing rosebuds. "I wish I
had known you sooner, Mr. Harthouse."

"Now, you see, Tom," said Mr. Harthouse
in conclusion; himself tossing over a rose
or two, as a contribution to the island, which
was always drifting to the wall as if it wanted
to become a part of the mainland; " every
man is selfish in everything he does, and I am
exactly like the rest of my fellow creatures.
I am desperately intent; " the languor of his
desperation being quite tropical; " on your
softening towards your sister—which you
ought to do; and on your being a more loving
and agreeable sort of brother which you
ought to be."

"I will be, Mr. Harthouse."

"No time like the present, Tom. Begin at
once."

"Certainly I will. And my sister Loo
shall say so."

"Having made which bargain, Tom," said
Harthouse, clapping him on the shoulder
again, with an air which left him at liberty
to infer—as he did, poor fool—that this
condition was imposed upon him in mere careless
good nature, to lessen his sense of obligation,
"we will tear ourselves asunder until dinnertime."

When Tom appeared before dinner, though
his mind seemed heavy enough, his body was
on the alert; and he appeared before Mr.
Bounderby came in. " I didn't mean to be
cross, Loo," he said, giving her his hand, and
kissing her. " I know you are fond of me,
and you know I am fond of you."