"You're getting to be as miserly as the old man," said Tremlett. "What's your name, boy?"
"My name is Benjamin Bradford."
"I suppose we are cousins, or something of that sort. Come out and take a drink."
"No, thank you. I never drink."
"You don't? What a prig you must be! Good-bye, Brief."
The heir left the office, and Mr. Brief turned to Ben.
"What do you think of your uncle's heir?" he inquired.
"I think he is going to ruin rapidly," answered Ben.
"You are right. The grub has become a butterfly, and the sober clerk has developed into a gay spendthrift. He was your uncle's clerk and distant relative. It would make the old man turn in his coffin if he knew how quickly his money is likely to melt away."
"Can't you check him?" asked Ben.