been happier if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred
and twenty pounds a year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr

Edward Hugh Bloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome
allowance and a great deal of advice, couched in language that

would probably have been judged intemperate on board a pirate
ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figure quite peculiar to the

days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for the lack of an
accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired years

without experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics
those noisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more

accustomed to connect with Toryism in its severe and senile
aspects. To the opinions of Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the

temper and the sympathies of that extinct animal, the Squire; he
admired pugilism, he carried a formidable oaken staff, he was a

reverent churchman, and it was hard to know which would have more
volcanically stirred his choler--a person who should have

defended the established church, or one who should have neglected
to attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling

catchwords, justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he
could not go so far as to declare a step un-English, he might

still (and with hardly less effect) denounce it as unpractical.
It was under the ban of this lesser excommunication that Gideon

had fallen. His views on the study of law had been pronounced
unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, in a vociferous

interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he must either
take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live on

his own money.
No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to

modify his present habits; but he would not stand on that, since
the recall of Mr Bloomfield's allowance would revolutionize them

still more radically. He had not the least desire to acquaint
himself with law; he had looked into it already, and it seemed

not to repay attention; but upon this also he was ready to give
way. In fact, he would go as far as he could to meet the views of

his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one part of the
programme that appeared independent of his will. How to get a

brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse.
Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man?

Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly
illuminated van was backed against the kerb; from its open stern,

half resting on the street, half supported by some glistening
athletes, the end of the largest packing-case in the county of

Middlesex might have been seen protruding; while, on the steps of
the house, the burly person of the driver and the slim figure of

a young girl stood as upon a stage, disputing.
'It is not for us,' the girl was saying. 'I beg you to take it

away; it couldn't get into the house, even if you managed to get
it out of the van.'

'I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can
arrange with the Vestry as he likes,' said the vanman.

'But I am not M. Finsbury,' expostulated the girl.
'It doesn't matter who you are,' said the vanman.

'You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,' said Gideon,
putting out his hand.

Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. 'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried,
'I am so glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which

can only have come here by mistake, into the house. The man says
we'll have to take off the door, or knock two of our windows into

one, or be fined by the Vestry or Custom House or something for
leaving our parcels on the pavement.'

The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the
van, had plumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning

against it, or gazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical
distress and mentalembarrassment. The windows of the whole

street had filled, as if by magic, with interested and
entertained spectators.

With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could
assume, Gideon measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia

entered his observations in a drawing-book. He then measured the
box, and, upon comparing his data, found that there was just

enough space for it to enter. Next, throwing off his coat and
waistcoat, he assisted the men to take the door from its hinges.

And lastly, all bystanders being pressed into the service, the
packing-case mounted the steps upon some fifteen pairs of

wavering legs--scraped, loudly grinding, through the doorway--and
was deposited at length, with a formidableconvulsion, in the far

end of the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of this
victory smiled upon each other as the dust subsided. It was true

they had smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the wall into deep
ruts; but, at least, they were no longer one of the public

spectacles of London.
'Well, sir,' said the vanman, 'I never see such a job.'

Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by
pressing a couple of sovereigns in the man's hand.

'Make it three, sir, and I'll stand Sam to everybody here!' cried
the latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of

volunteer porters swarmed into the van, which drove off in the
direction of the nearest reliable public-house. Gideon closed the

door on their departure, and turned to Julia; their eyes met; the
most uncontrollable mirth seized upon them both, and they made

the house ring with their laughter. Then curiosity awoke in
Julia's mind, and she went and examined the box, and more

especially the label.
'This is the strangest thing that ever happened,' she said, with

another burst of laughter. 'It is certainly Morris's handwriting,
and I had a letter from him only this morning, telling me to

expect a barrel. Is there a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr
Forsyth?'

"'Statuary with Care, Fragile,'" read Gideon aloud from the
painted warning on the box. 'Then you were told nothing about

this?'
'No,' responded Julia. 'O, Mr Forsyth, don't you think we might

take a peep at it?'
'Yes, indeed,' cried Gideon. 'Just let me have a hammer.'

'Come down, and I'll show you where it is,' cried Julia. 'The
shelf is too high for me to reach'; and, opening the door of the

kitchen stair, she bade Gideon follow her. They found both the
hammer and a chisel; but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a

servant. He also discovered that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty
little foot and ankle; and the discovery embarrassed him so much

that he was glad to fall at once upon the packing-case.
He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the

precision of a blacksmith; Julia the while standingsilently by
his side, and regarding rather the workman than the work. He was

a handsome fellow; she told herself she had never seen such
beautiful arms. And suddenly, as though he had overheard these

thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to her. She, too, smiled and
coloured; and the double change became her so prettily that

Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the hammer
with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With

admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and
substituted the harmlesscomment, 'Butter fingers!' But the pain

was sharp, his nerve was shaken, and after an abortive trial he
found he must desist from further operations.

In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back