“That person is truly rich,” continued Mr. Whedell, “rich beyond expression, who brings pure love and exalted virtues into the married state.”

“Generous father-in-law!” thought Chiffield.  “He knows that I am ruined.  Yet how nobly he treats me!  I may cast away all reserve now.”

“It would be an affectation, sir,” said Chiffield, aloud, “to pretend that I do not understand to whom you refer, my dear father-in-law.”

“The glorious fellow!” thought Mr. Whedell.  “He guesses what I am about to disclose, and yet calls me a dear father-in-law.”

Chiffield continued:  “To save any further circumlocution, sir, and in order that we may fully understand each other, I will say at once, that we are completely—­ruined!”

“Ha!  What!  Who ruined?”

“The house of Upjack, Chiffield & Co.  I—­I thought you knew it.”

“Ruined, sir!” cried Mr. Whedell, livid with horror.  He choked for further utterance.

“Yes, sir,” said Chiffield, who, being a fat man, was happily calm; “totally ruined.”

“You impudent scoundrel! out of this house!” shrieked Mr. Whedell, rising from his chair, and glaring like a wildcat at his son-in-law.

“Be calm,” said that phlegmatic individual.  “I respect your age.”

“Curse your impudence! what do you mean by my age?” (approaching Chiffield in a threatening manner).  “I’ll let you know, sir, that I am young enough to kick a swindler like you into the street.”

“Pray compose yourself, sir,” returned the bland Chiffield.  “Your surprise and excitement are natural, and therefore pardonable.  But my affairs are, after all, not quite as bad as they might be.  I have a sure prospective fortune, if not a present one.”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Mr. Whedell, not quite so savage as before.

“That I have talents, energy, a large business acquaintance,” said the cheerful Chiffield.

“Humbug!” roared Mr. Whedell.  “What is all that stuff good for, without money?”

“Not much, I admit,” was the conciliatory reply.  “There fore, sir, to come to the point at once, advance me ten thousand dollars to start in business again, and I will make a fortune in three years.  It was the outside speculations of my partners that ruined me.  Perhaps you don’t know that dry goods are going up, sir?  Now’s the time to buy.”

“This man will drive me mad!” shrieked Mr. Whedell, combing his hair wildly with his hands.

“Regard it in the light of a family investment,” suggested the soothing Chiffield.

“You diabolical scoundrel!” yelled Mr. Whedell, in a partial asphyxia of rage; “if I had a million dollars to-day, I wouldn’t give you a cent.  You should starve first.  But I want to tell you—­and hang me if it isn’t a pleasure, too—­that I am a beggar, sir—­a beggar, sir—­a beggar, sir!  By noon to-day I shall be turned out of this house.  And, by Jove!  I’m glad of it, for then I shall get rid of you.”  During this adagio passage, the speaker shook his fist within a few inches of Chiffield’s nose.