"Well, brother," he began, in his usual ungracious tones, "what business brings you here?"
"I came to ask of you a favor," said Algernon, seating himself, and drawing the little Anthony between his knees; "one which I hope that you will not refuse to grant."
"Humph!" said Mark. "I must tell you, without mincing the matter brother Algernon, that I never grant favors in any shape. That I never ask favors of any one. That I never lend money, or borrow money. That I never require security for myself of others, or give my name as security to them. If such is your errand to me you may expect, what you will find—disappointment."
"Fortunately my visit to you has nothing to do with money. Nor do I think that the favor I am about to ask will cause you to make the least sacrifice. Will you give me this boy?"
The novel request created some surprise, it was so different from the one the miser expected. He looked from the ragged child to his fashionably-dressed brother, then to the child again, as if doubtful what answer to return. The living brown skeleton, Pike, slipped softly across the room to his side; and a glance of peculiar meaning shot from his rat-like eyes, into the dark, deep-set, searching orbs of the miser.
"What do you think of it, Pike? Hey!"
"It is too good an offer to be refused," whispered the avaricious satellite, who always looked upon himself as the miser's heir. "Take him at his word."
"What do you want with the child?" said Mark, turning to his brother. "Have you not a son of your own?"
"I have—a handsome clever little fellow. This nephew of mine greatly resembles him."
"He cannot be more like you than this child is, whom his mother dared to call mine. For my own part I never have, nor ever shall, consider him as such."