Part 52 (2/2)
inquired Mr. Brief.
”I starved on eight hundred dollars a year.”
”Then it seems to me you aught to live comfortably now on five thousand.”
”My circ.u.mstances are changed.”
”At this rate you'll run through the property in ten years.”
”Oh, I'll pull up after awhile,” said the heir carelessly. ”So just give me a couple of hundreds, old fellow!”
”I will hand you a hundred,” said Mr. Brief reluctantly. ”Hereafter you must keep within your allowance.”
”You're getting to be as miserly as the old man,” said Tremlett.
”What's your name, boy?”
”My name is Benjamin Bradford.”
”I suppose we are cousins, or something of that sort. Come out and take a drink.”
”No, thank you. I never drink.”
”You don't? What a prig you must be! Good-bye, Brief.”
The heir left the office, and Mr. Brief turned to Ben.
”What do you think of your uncle's heir?” he inquired.
”I think he is going to ruin rapidly,” answered Ben.
”You are right. The grub has become a b.u.t.terfly, and the sober clerk has developed into a gay spendthrift. He was your uncle's clerk and distant relative. It would make the old man turn in his coffin if he knew how quickly his money is likely to melt away.”
”Can't you check him?” asked Ben.
”For twelve months I can. After that I am powerless. I wish he were more like you.”
”Thank you,” said Ben, surprised at the compliment.
”My bark is worse that my bite,” said the lawyer. ”About this claim against your aunt I will do what I can for you, but try to find the letter you refer to. The sum is a small one.”
”It is large to us.”
”Just so; but my client would squander it in a week. Let me hear from you after you have returned and inst.i.tuted a further search.”
”Thank you, sir, I will write.”
Ben left the office, judging Mr. Brief more favorably than at first.
With John Tremlett, he was disgusted.
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