“Then I should advise you to lose the key, Mr Pradelle,” chuckled the old man, “or you may be tempted to spend it.”
“You’re playing with us, uncle,” cried Harry. “Look here, will you lend me a hundred? I promise you faithfully I’ll pay it to you back.”
“Oh! of course, of course, my dear boy.”
“Then you’ll lend it to me.”
“Lend you a hundred? My dear boy, I haven’t a hundred pounds to lend you. And see how happy I am without!”
“Well, then, fifty, uncle. I’ll make that do.”
“Come, I like that, Harry,” cried the old man, fixing Pradelle with his eye, “There’s something frank and generous about it. It’s brave, too; isn’t it, sir?”
“Yes, sir. Harry’s as frank and good-hearted a lad as ever stepped.”
“Thank you, Mr Pradelle. It’s very good of you to say so.”
“Come along, Vic,” said Harry.