But before he went, and when he had already put on his great-coat in the hall, Mr. Prosper called him back to ask him one farther question; and for that purpose he shut the door carefully, and uttered his words in a whisper.  Did Mr. Barry know anything of the life and recent adventures of Mr. Henry Annesley?  Mr. Barry knew nothing; but he thought that his partner, Mr. Grey, knew something.  He had heard Mr. Grey mention the name of Mr. Henry Annesley.  Then as he stood there, enveloped in his great-coat, with his horse standing in the cold, Mr. Prosper told him much of the story of Harry Annesley, and asked him to induce Mr, Grey to write and tell him what he thought of Harry’s conduct.

CHAPTER XLIV.

MR. PROSPER’S TROUBLES.

As Mr. Prosper sunk into his arm-chair after the fatigue of the interview with his lawyer, he reflected that, when all was considered, Harry Annesley was an ungrateful pig,—­it was thus he called him,—­and that Miss Thoroughbung had many attractions.  Miss Thoroughbung had probably done well to kiss him, though the enterprise had not been without its peculiar dangers.  He often thought of it when alone, and, as “distance lent enchantment to the view,” he longed to have the experiment repeated.  Perhaps she had been right.  And it would be a good thing, certainly, to have dear little children of his own.  Miss Thoroughbung felt very certain on the subject, and it would be foolish for him to doubt.  Then he thought of the difference between a pretty fair haired little boy and that ungrateful pig, Harry Annesley.  He told himself that he was very fond of children.  The girls over at the parsonage would not have said so, but they probably did not know his character.

When Harry had come back with his fellowship, his uncle had for a few weeks been very proud of him,—­had declared that he should never be called upon to earn his bread, and had allowed him two hundred and fifty pounds a year to begin with:  but no return had been made to this favor.  Harry had walked in and out of the Hall as though it had already belonged to him,—­as many a father delights to see his eldest son doing.  But the uncle in this instance had not taken any delight in seeing it.  An uncle is different from a father,—­an uncle who has never had a child of his own.  He wanted deference,—­what he would have called respect; while Harry was at first prepared to give him a familiar affection based on equality,—­on an equality in money matters and worldly interests,—­though I fear that Harry allowed to be seen his own intellectual superiority.  Mr. Prosper, though an ignorant man, and by no means clever, was not such a fool as not to see all this.  Then had come the persistent refusal to hear the sermons, and Mr. Prosper had sorrowfully declared to himself that his heir was not the young man that he should have been.