"Well," Hazel said gravely, "on that occasion you made it impossible for me to accept it for myself; but since then you have been so kind, so—so courteous that—Uncle Percival, will you give me five pounds?"
"What for?" Mr. Desborough asked bluntly, but with interest.
"Well," Hazel replied. "I should have liked to keep that a secret if I could; but it is quite impossible, because as soon as I have got it, I must go out, and you will want to know where I am going."
"Certainly," her uncle assented, "and you must have the carriage." He was looking amused now. "Shopping, I suppose?"
"No," Hazel said; "I want to leave it at Teddie's lodging."
"Whew," whistled Uncle Percival. "Sits the wind in that quarter? Is the boy out of pocket-money?"
"It is much more serious than that," Hazel told him gravely. "He has no money to pay his rent with, and the landlady is beginning to—to kick, he says."
Mr. Desborough raised his hand and coughed, to hide a smile. "How has he got himself into this mess?" he asked. "I thought he had a rise lately."
"He was given a rise," Hazel admitted, "but he says that from that time his difficulties began. You see," she went on confidentially, "he treated five friends to a champagne lunch, and a theatre or two—I suspect stalls; I did not want to worry him by asking; but Teddie is so generous."
"The young jackanapes," ejaculated Mr. Desborough.