“Possibly: I can’t tell, until I’ve seen it.”

“No, of course—Waldo, you know I don’t want it, but what the dooce do you—Oh!” He broke off, laughing, and said mischievously: “I’ll swear I know, but I won’t tell George—word of a Lindeth!”

“Tell me?” said George, with a scornful snort. “Do you take me for a flat, young sauce-box? He wants it for another Orphan Asylum, of course!”

“An Orphan Asylum!” Laurence jerked himself to his feet, staring at Sir Waldo with narrowed, glittering eyes. “So that’s it, is it? What ought to be mine is to be squandered on the scaff and raff of the back-slums! You don’t want it yourself, but you’d rather by far benefit a set of dirty, worthless brats than your own kith and kin!”

“I don’t think you are concerned with any of my kith and kin other than yourself, Laurie,” replied Sir Waldo. “That being so—yes, I would.”

“You—you—By God, you make me sick!” Laurence said, trembling with fury.

“Well, take yourself off!” recommended Julian, as flushed as Laurence was pale. “You only came here to nose out what you might, and you’ve done that! And if you think you’re at liberty to insult Waldo under any roof of mine I’ll have you know you’re much mistaken!”

“Make yourself easy: I’m going, toad-eater!” Laurence flung at him. “And you need not put yourself to the trouble of escorting me downstairs! Ma’am, your very obedient servant!”

“Tragedy Jack!” remarked George, as the door slammed behind the outraged dandy. “Well-done, young ’un!” he added, with a grin that suddenly lightened his rather heavy countenance: “You and your roofs! Try telling me I came to nose out what I might—and see what I’ll do to you!”

Julian laughed, relaxing. “Well, you did, but that’s different! You don’t grudge Cousin Joseph’s property to Waldo any more than I do!”

“No, but that ain’t to say I don’t grudge it to those curst brats of his!” said George frankly.