“Thanks, no, George; give it to the sea-anemone. I don’t like raw winkle.”
“But you said that money was yours?”
“Yes; a deposit; all in new crisp Bank of England notes, Harry. Taking care of it for me till I got a fresh investment.”
“You surprise me, Luke.”
“Always did. Surprised you more if Margaret had had five hundred pounds to invest, eh?”
“Then the loss will fall upon you, uncle,” said Louise sympathetically, as she took the old man’s hand.
“Yes, my dear. But better have the loss fall upon me than Crampton’s heavy ebony ruler, eh, Harry?”
The young man looked once more in the searching malicious eyes, and nodded.
“Bad job though, Louie. I’d left poor Harry that money in my will.”
“Oh, uncle!” cried Louise, holding his hand to her cheek.