page 9

come and play billiards, and have a smoke, and get out of all this. I'm about tired of it, ain't you?"

"Fine manners, I must say," growled Sir Thomas, eyeing his son with intense disgust.

But Tom Ridly was the only one of the family who was not a bit afraid of Sir Thomas. He was, in fact, independent of him, the property being strictly entailed on the eldest son, and, as Tom was the only one, he knew his father could not injure him.

In one of their many quarrels, Sir Thomas, enraged beyond endurance, had declared he would no longer put up with the extravagance of his son.

"I have the remedy in my own hands, then, you know, sir," said Tom. "I can borrow money on the estate."

"Do you mean," cried Sir Thomas, "do you mean you unnatural, ungrateful scamp, that you will raise money reckoning on the event of my death?"

"You leave me no option," replied Tom. "If you won't give me money now, what can I do?"

Sir Thomas gave Tom the money he asked for after that; but he never forgave him. He, indeed, hated his son—the son who was waiting for his death. The vain pompous old man could not get over that; and perhaps his feelings on the subject were not so very unnatural after all.

His wife and daughters were, of course, in a different position. Sir Thomas had saved, or inherited, a large sum of ready money which was entirely at his own disposal, and they, therefore, respected and honoured him accordingly, and were in constant fear of giving him any serious offence.

"What an old bear he is," said Tom to me that evening, alluding to his father, as we went up to the smoking-room together, "and how he bullies everyone. By Jove! what will he say when he hears of my little girl?"