But for this unfortunate occurrence, John Massingbird would have already departed from Verner’s Pride.  The great bane of the two Massingbirds was, that they had been brought up to be idle men.  A sum of money had become theirs when Frederick came of age—­which sum you will call large or small, as it may please you.  It would be as a drop of water to the millionaire; it would be as a countless fortune to one in the depths of poverty:  we estimate things by comparison.  The sum was five thousand pounds each—­Mrs. Massingbird, by her second marriage with Mr. Verner, having forfeited all right in it.  With this sum the young Massingbirds appeared to think that they could live as gentlemen, and need not seek to add to it.

Thrown into the luxurious home of Verner’s Pride—­again we must speak by comparison:  Verner’s Pride was luxurious compared to the moderate home they had been reared in—­John and Frederick Massingbird suffered that worst complaint of all complaints, indolence, to overtake them and become their master.  John, careless, free, unsteady in many ways, set on to spend his portion as fast as he could; Frederick, more cold, more cautious, did not squander as his brother did, but he had managed to get rid of a considerable amount of his own share in unfortunate speculations.  While losses do not affect our personal convenience they are scarcely felt.  And so it was with the Massingbirds.  Mr. Verner was an easy man in regard to money matters; he was also a man who was particularly sensitive to the feelings of other people, and he had never breathed a word to his wife about the inexpediency of her keeping her sons at home in idleness.  He feared his motives might be misconstrued—­that it might be thought he grudged the expense.  He had spoken once or twice of the desirability of his step-sons pursuing some calling in life, and intimated that he should be ready to further their views by pecuniary help; but the advice was not taken.  He offered to purchase a commission for one or both of them; he hinted that the bar afforded a stepping-stone to fame.  No; John and Frederick Massingbird were conveniently deaf; they had grown addicted to field-sports, to a life of leisure, and they did not feel inclined to quit it for one of obligation or of labour.  So they had stayed on at Verner’s Pride in the enjoyment of their comfortable quarters, of the well-spread table, of their horses, their dogs.  All these sources of expense were provided without any cost or concern of theirs, their own private expenditure alone coming out of their private purses.  How it was with their clothes, they and Mrs. Verner best knew; Mr. Verner did not.  Whether these were furnished at their own cost, or whether their mother allowed them to draw for such on her, or, indeed, whether they were scoring up long bills on account, Mr. Verner made it no concern of his to inquire.