"Now, Tony, I was somewhat discouraged by this ungracious answer; however as I knew the man, I wrote to him again and did pay the post; I took no notice of the tenor of his letter, but merely informed him that I had put you to school, and that you were growing a fine clever lad. Here is his reply:—
'To Algernon Hurdlestone, Esq.
'Next to receiving impertinent letters, I detest the trouble of answering them. I have no money to fling away upon fools and foolscap.
'Marcus Hurdlestone.'
"Now, my dear boy, although so far my applications to him on your behalf have been unsuccessful, I think it only right and prudent in you to write to him yourself, and remind this affectionate father that you are still in the land of the living."
"And that you wish him," said Godfrey, popping his head in at the door, where he had been an attentive listener for the last five minutes, "well out of it."
Without heeding his cousin's nonsense, Anthony answered his uncle with great simplicity, "Dear uncle, what can I say to him?"
"Faith, my dear boy, that's more than I can tell you; just anything, the best you can. Tell him that you wish to see him, that you are grown nearly into a man; that you wish him to name what profession he wishes you to pursue, as you are about to go to college. But mark me, Tony say not one word about love, filial affection, and so forth; he'll not believe you. The more you attempt to court or conciliate such spirits as his—spirits, did I say? the man's all earth, hard unyielding clay—the more they suspect you of sinister motives. The honest bluntness of indignant truth is more likely to succeed."
"I believe you, uncle, and without exercising any great mental ingenuity, my letter, I fear, will be a sad hypocritical affair."
"Doubtless," said Godfrey, roaring with laughter, "I wish, Tony, we could change fathers."