"Why, brother," said Ramsay, looking very serious now indeed, "you are terribly down to leeward—awfully out of pocket!"
"Ah! never mind, Ramsay. One can't keep ahead of the times now-a-days, you know, without spending a little."
"Spending a little! Where are your other books? Mr. Walton and I will have a look through them to-night, if you don't mind."
"Not a bit, brother, not a bit. We're going to give a dance to-morrow night to the servants, so if you like to bother with the book-work I'll attend to the terpsichorean kick up."
Mr. Walton and Uncle Ramsay had a snack in the office that evening instead of coming up to supper, and when Mrs. Broadbent looked in to say good-night she found them both quiet and hard at work.
"I say, Walton," said Uncle Ramsay some time after, "this is serious. Draw near the fire and let us have a talk."
"It is sad as well as serious," said Walton.
"Had you any idea of it?"
"Not the slightest. In fact I'm to blame, I think, for not seeing to the books before. But the Squire——"
Walton hesitated.