"Mr. Warde! the arrogant cad—it is not about him I am bothered. Sneak! to complain of me to my uncle. Why did he not say it to me? It is only that fellow Browne, the head clerk, has a spite at me!" This was an old story. In days gone by, Raymond's bad school reports had always been "the result of spite." "But, Salome," he went on, "you know I did not like to be for ever begging of poor mother, so hard up as I know she is, so I borrowed some money of a fellow, who said I need not think of paying him for ever so long; and now he is turned rusty, and we have had a blow-up, and he says if I don't pay him to-day, he shall come here to my mother, or to my uncle, for he will have the money by hook or by crook."
"O Raymond!" Salome exclaimed; "how much is it?"
"A mere trifle; only my term's allowance at Eton—five and twenty pounds. Do you think, Salome, you could get it for me in any way? You never wear that gold thing with emeralds mother gave you that belonged to grandmamma. Could you let me have it to raise money on it?"
"I don't know. I don't think it would be right. The necklet is in mother's dressing-case. I never have kept it myself. Of course, it is mine, as grannie left it to me, or it would have been sold. Still I don't think it would be right. O Raymond, I wish I could ask some one about it."
"If you do that you will ruin me. If I can get the money quietly, I will promise not to borrow again."
"Did you use it for—for that ulster and pin, and—" Salome was alarmed at her own boldness; and Raymond answered,—
"No; I did not."
"And you are in debt for those things also?"
"Yes; but that does not matter—tradesmen will wait. It's this fellow Percival."
"Oh, is it Percival, the brother of Reg's friend? Digby knows him; he is very good and nice. I thought you despised him."