"What do you want of me?" he asked. "Remember that I am waited for. I am quite ready to serve you—for the sake of 'auld lang syne!'"
"Yes," answered the Major, with a sneer; "it's so pleasant to remember 'auld lang syne!'"
"Well," asked Mr. Dunbar, impatiently, "what is it you want of me?"
"A bottle of Burgundy—the best you have in your cellar—something to eat, and—that which a poor man generally asks of his rich friends—his fortunate friends—MONEY!"
"You shall not find me illiberal towards you. I'll come back by-and-by, and write you a cheque."
"You'll make it a thumping one?"
"I'll make it as much as you want."
"That's the sort of thing. There always was something princely and magnificent about you, Mr. Dunbar."
"You shall not have any reason to complain," answered the banker, very coldly.
"You'll send me the lunch?"