"One hundred pounds," repeated Sir Percival, languidly.
"But Tom Moore is my friend."
"Ah!" said the baronet, "in that case one hundred and one pounds."
Farrell laughed a little.
"Very well, Sir Percival," said he, "I will undertake to earn the sum you mention. I must admit the airs and graces with which Moore sees fit to conduct himself are extremely offensive to me. His manner is one of extreme condescension, and more than once I have felt myself to be upon the verge of resenting it."
"Then," said the baronet, "it is agreed?"
Farrell nodded pleasantly.
"How will you do it?"
"Easily, Sir Percival. You leave the affair to me and I 'll fix it so Bessie Dyke will never look at Tom Moore again."
"If you succeed, I 'll make it one hundred and fifty."