“Well, I don’t want you to get into trouble, father,” he said at last. “You don’t open out to me frankly, but I can see as far into a millstone as most people. I’m not quite a fool.”
“No, my boy, no,” said James Brandon eagerly. “I’m delighted to find what a sharp man of business you are growing.”
“But you never made yourself hoarse by telling me so, dad,” said Sam, with a grin.
“Because I did not want to make you conceited, my dear boy,” cried the father. “Then you will help me?”
“The money’s no temptation to me, father,” said Sam loftily.
“But it will be very useful to you by and by, my boy. Surely you don’t want that ill-conditioned cub to inherit it.”
“Of course I don’t,” said Sam. “There, all right, I’ll go and get them for you somehow, but if there’s any rumpus afterward you’ll have to stand the racket, for I shan’t. I shall say you sent me.”
“Of course, my boy, of course. But you are too clever to make any mistake over the business, and—and you are beginning to be a great help to me, Sam. The time’s getting on now towards when we must begin to think of your being a junior partner. Only about three or four years, Sam.—Then you will go down at once?”
“You leave that to me,” said Sam importantly. “But I must have some money.”
“Yes, my boy, of course. Half-a-sovereign will be plenty, I suppose?”