When my cousin--I shall call him cousin henceforth in this record, lest
it might seem to any unkind person who might hereafter read it that I
wished to taunt Rupert St. Leger with his somewhat obscure position, in
reiterating his real distance in kinship with my family--when my cousin,
Rupert St. Leger, wished to commit a certain idiotic act of financial
folly, he approached my father on the subject, arriving at our estate,
Humcroft, at an inconvenient time, without permission, not having had
even the decent courtesy to say he was coming. I was then a little chap
of six years old, but I could not help noticing his mean appearance. He
was all dusty and dishevelled. When my father saw him--I came into the
study with him--he said in a horrified voice:

"Good God!" He was further shocked when the boy brusquely acknowledged,
in reply to my father's greeting, that he had travelled third class. Of
course, none of my family ever go anything but first class; even the
servants go second. My father was really angry when he said he had
walked up from the station. "A nice spectacle for my tenants and my tradesmen! To see my--my--a
kinsman of my house, howsoever remote, trudging like a tramp on the road
to my estate! Why, my avenue is two miles and a perch! No wonder you
are filthy and insolent!" Rupert--really, I cannot call him cousin
here--was exceedingly impertinent to my father. "I walked, sir, because I had no money; but I assure you I did not mean
to be insolent. I simply came here because I wished to ask your advice
and assistance, not because you are an important person, and have a long
avenue--as I know to my cost--but simply because you are one of my
trustees." "_Your_ trustees, sirrah!" said my father, interrupting him. "Your
trustees?" "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, quite quietly. "I meant the trustees
of my dear mother's will." "And what, may I ask you," said father, "do you want in the way of advice
from one of the trustees of your dear mother's will?" Rupert got very
red, and was going to say something rude--I knew it from his look--but he
stopped, and said in the same gentle way:

"I want your advice, sir, as to the best way of doing something which I
wish to do, and, as I am under age, cannot do myself. It must be done
through the trustees of my mother's will." "And the assistance for which you wish?" said father, putting his hand in
his pocket. I know what that action means when I am talking to him. "The assistance I want," said Rupert, getting redder than ever, "is from
my--the trustee also. To carry out what I want to do." "And what may that be?" asked my father. "I would like, sir, to make
over to my Aunt Janet--"  My father interrupted him by asking--he had
evidently remembered my jest:

"Miss MacSkelpie?" Rupert got still redder, and I turned away; I didn't
quite wish that he should see me laughing. He went on quietly:

"_MacKelpie_, sir! Miss Janet MacKelpie, my aunt, who has always been so
kind to me, and whom my mother loved--I want to have made over to her the
money which my dear mother left to me." Father doubtless wished to have
the matter take a less serious turn, for Rupert's eyes were all shiny
with tears which had not fallen; so after a little pause he said, with
indignation, which I knew was simulated:

"Have you forgotten your mother so soon, Rupert, that you wish to give
away the very last gift which she bestowed on you?" Rupert was sitting,
but he jumped up and stood opposite my father with his fist clenched. He
was quite pale now, and his eyes looked so fierce that I thought he would
do my father an injury. He spoke in a voice which did not seem like his
own, it was so strong and deep. "Sir!" he roared out. I suppose, if I was a writer, which, thank God, I
am not--I have no need to follow a menial occupation--I would call it
"thundered." "Thundered" is a longer word than "roared," and would, of
course, help to gain the penny which a writer gets for a line. Father
got pale too, and stood quite still. Rupert looked at him steadily for
quite half a minute--it seemed longer at the time--and suddenly smiled
and said, as he sat down again:

"Sorry. But, of course, you don't understand such things." Then he went
on talking before father had time to say a word. "Let us get back to business. As you do not seem to follow me, let me
explain that it is _because_ I do not forget that I wish to do this. I
remember my dear mother's wish to make Aunt Janet happy, and would like
to do as she did." "_Aunt_ Janet?" said father, very properly sneering at his ignorance. "She is not your aunt. Why, even her sister, who was married to your
uncle, was only your aunt by courtesy." I could not help feeling that
Rupert meant to be rude to my father, though his words were quite polite. If I had been as much bigger than him as he was than me, I should have
flown at him; but he was a very big boy for his age. I am myself rather
thin. Mother says thinness is an "appanage of birth." "My Aunt Janet, sir, is an aunt by love. Courtesy is a small word to use
in connection with such devotion as she has given to us. But I needn't
trouble you with such things, sir. I take it that my relations on the
side of my own house do not affect you. I am a Sent Leger!" Father
looked quite taken aback. He sat quite still before he spoke. "Well, Mr. St. Leger, I shall think over the matter for a while, and
shall presently let you know my decision. In the meantime, would you
like something to eat? I take it that as you must have started very
early, you have not had any breakfast?" Rupert smiled quite genially:

"That is true, sir. I haven't broken bread since dinner last night, and
I am ravenously hungry." Father rang the bell, and told the footman who
answered it to send the housekeeper. When she came, father said to her:

"Mrs. Martindale, take this boy to your room and give him some
breakfast." Rupert stood very still for some seconds. His face had got
red again after his paleness. Then he bowed to my father, and followed
Mrs. Martindale, who had moved to the door. Nearly an hour afterwards my father sent a servant to tell him to come to
the study. My mother was there, too, and I had gone back with her. The
man came back and said:

"Mrs. Martindale, sir, wishes to know, with her respectful service, if
she may have a word with you." Before father could reply mother told him
to bring her. The housekeeper could not have been far off--that kind are
generally near a keyhole--for she came at once. When she came in, she
stood at the door curtseying and looking pale. Father said:

"Well?" "I thought, sir and ma'am, that I had better come and tell you about
Master Sent Leger. I would have come at once, but I feared to disturb
you." "Well?" Father had a stern way with servants. When I'm head of the
family I'll tread them under my feet. That's the way to get real
devotion from servants!