"Well, uncle," said the broker, bitterly, "the game's up. I have been ruined, stock and fluke, by letting my wife have her own way, and to-morrow I shall be a bankrupt."
"No you won't," said uncle Richard.
"Yes I shall," said the broker, angrily. "And Julia, abandoned by her lover, will be broken hearted."
"No she won't," said uncle Richard.
"Who's to prevent it?" asked the broker.
"Uncle Richard," replied that personage. "What's the use of a friend, unless he's a friend in need. I've got plenty of money, and neither chick nor child in the world. I'll meet your liabilities with cash. Young Merton loves Julia in spite of her temporary alienation—he will gladly take her back. The rogues will get their deserts. Your wife, sick and ashamed of her fashionable follies, will gladly gin' up this house and the servants. You'll buy a little country seat on the Hudson, and I'll come and live with you."
As every thing turned out exactly as uncle Richard promised and predicted, we have no occasion to enlarge on the fortunate subsiding of this "sea of troubles."