"Bootle has promised to dine here tomorrow," said Philip. "This evening I dine with him at the Rose and Crown." He left his seat and went to the window. The disagreeable moment could be put off no longer. Going behind Lady Cleeve's chair, he leaned over and kissed her. "Mother, I am going to ask you to do a most preposterous thing," he said.
"Not many times in your life, dear, have you done that," she answered. "But what is it?"
"I want you to give me twenty-five pounds."
"Twenty-five pounds is a large sum, Philip--that is, a large sum for me. But I suppose you would not ask me for it unless you really need it."
"Certainly not, mother. I need it for a very special purpose indeed."
"Can you tell me for what?"
"No," said Philip, in a low tone. "It--it is for some one," he rather lamely added.
"You are going to lend it! Well, Philip, if it is for some worthy friend who is in want, I will say nothing," said Lady Cleeve, who had implicit confidence in her son. "You shall have the money."
Philip's face was burning. He turned to the window again.
"Do you know that next Tuesday will be your birthday, Philip?" asked his mother. "You will be twenty-two. How the years fly as we grow old! Your asking for this money brings to my mind something which I did not intend to mention to you till your birthday was actually here; but, there is no reason why I should not tell you now. Can you guess, my dear boy, what amount I have saved up, and safely put away for you in Nullington Bank? But how should it be possible for you to guess?"--Philip had turned by this time, and was staring at his mother.