“Well,” said Chris, laughing, “I don’t want to raise money, and I do come to you.”
“What for, sir?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Chris, speaking on the spur of the moment, for an idea had occurred to him. “But suppose we drop the ‘sir’-ing. It doesn’t seem to fit after having known me all these years.”
“Go on. I’m not well. Say what you want briefly. I’m going out.”
“I won’t keep you long, but it may be for your benefit. Look here, guardian, you know what I have a year?”
“Perfectly—two hundred and fifty, if you haven’t been mortgaging.”
“Well, I haven’t been mortgaging. It is not one of my pastimes. But it has occurred to me that I lead a very idle life.”
“Bless my soul!” cried Gartram sarcastically. “When did you discover that?”
“And,” continued Chris, “it seems to me that, as you are growing older—”
Gartram’s face twitched.