“You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?” said Will.

“Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that.  But letters of credit—­why need we trouble over such matters?  These English are but babes.  Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we’ll need no letters of credit, Will.  Look at your purse, boy—­since you are the thrifty cashier of our firm!”

“I like not this sort of gold,” said Will Law, setting his lips judicially.

“Yet it seems to purchase well as any,” said the other, indifferently.  “At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of some fifty sovereigns—­some little apparel which I have ordered.  For, look you, Will, I must be clothed proper.  In these days, as I may tell you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer—­my Lord Keeper Somers—­Sir Isaac Newton—­Mr. John Locke—­gentry of that sort.  It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have brought with us.”

“You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this new madness of which you speak?”

“No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have named to you.  But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother.  For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all.  As for you, you had never confidence in me, nor in yourself.  Gad!  Will, hadst but the courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old town!”

“I want none of such days, Jack,” said Will Law, soberly.  “I care most to see you settled in some decent way of living.  What will your mother say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden quarrel—­as this which has already sprung up—­with no given aim in life, with nothing certain for an ambition—­”

“Now, Will,” began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, “pray go not too hard with me at the start.  I thought I had done fairly well, to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London.  ’Tis not every young man gets so far as that.  Come, now, Will!”

“But after all, there must be serious purpose.”

“Know then,” cried the elder man, suddenly, “that I have found such serious purpose!”

The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across the roofs of London.  There had now fallen from his face all trace of levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of his speech.  Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each other.

“And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?” said Will Law.

“If I must tell you, it is simply this:  I am resolved to marry the girl we met at Sadler’s Wells.”

“How—­what—?”

“Yes, how—­what—?” repeated his brother, mockingly.