He took him to Barkington, bag and baggage; and his good Christian wife received the old man with delight; she had prayed day and night for this reconciliation. Finding his son so warm, and being himself as cool, Richard Hardie entrapped Alfred into an agreement, to board and lodge him, and pay him a guinea every Saturday at noon; in return for this Alfred was to manage Richard's property, and pocket the profits, if any. Alfred assented: the old man chuckled at his son's simplicity, and made him sign a formal agreement to that effect.
This done he used so sit brooding and miserable nearly all the week till guinea time came; and then brightened up a bit. One day Alfred sent for an accountant to look after his father's papers, and see if matters were really desperate.
The accountant was not long at work, and told Alfred the accounts were perfectly clear, and kept in the most, admirable order. “The cash balance is L. 60,000,” said he, “and many of the rents are due. It is an agent you want, not an accountant.”
“What are you talking about? A balance of L. 60,000?” Alfred was stupefied.
The accountant, however, soon convinced him by the figures it was so.
Alfred went with the good news to his father.
His father went into a passion. “That is one side of the account, ye fool,” said he; “think of the rates, the taxes, the outgoings. You want to go from your bargain, and turn me on the world; but I have got you in black and white, tight, tight.”
Then Alfred saw the truth, and wondered at his past obtuseness.
His father was a monomaniac.
He consulted Sampson, and Sampson told him to increase the old man's comforts on the sly, and pay him his guinea a week. “It's all you can do for him.”