“I must go,” said Mr. Kemp.  “I’ve spent over eleven pounds cabling to-day; but it’s all no good.”

“But you’re coming back?” said Mr. Hills.

“O’ course I am,” was the reply.  “George is the only relation I’ve got, and I’ve got to look after him, I suppose.  After all, blood is thicker than water.”

“Hear, hear!” said Mrs. Bradshaw, piously.

“And there’s you and Bella,” continued Mr. Kemp; “two of the best that ever breathed.”

The ladies looked down.

“And Charlie Hills; I don’t know—­I don’t know when I’ve took such a fancy to anybody as I have to ’im.  If I was a young gal—­a single young gal—­he’s—­the other half,” he said, slowly, as he paused—­“just the one I should fancy.  He’s a good-’arted, good-looking——­”

“Draw it mild,” interrupted the blushing Mr. Hills as Mr. Wright bestowed a ferocious glance upon the speaker.

“Clever, lively young fellow,” concluded Mr. Kemp.  “George!”

“Yes,” said Mr. Wright.

“I’m going now.  I’ve got to catch the train for Southampton, but I don’t want you to come with me.  I prefer to be alone.  You stay here and cheer them up.  Oh, and before I forget it, lend me a couple o’ pounds out o’ that fifty I gave you last night.  I’ve given all my small change away.”

He looked up and met Mr. Wright’s eye; the latter, too affected to speak, took out the money and passed it over.

“We never know what may happen to us,” said the old man, solemnly, as he rose and buttoned his coat.  “I’m an old man and I like to have things ship-shape.  I’ve spent nearly the whole day with my lawyer, and if anything ’appens to my old carcass it won’t make any difference.  I have left half my money to George; half of all I have is to be his.”

In the midst of an awed silence he went round and shook hands.

“The other half,” with his hand on the door—­“the other half and my best gold watch and chain I have left to my dear young pal, Charlie Hills.  Good-bye, Georgie!”