The lawyer smiled at him benignly.  ‘You may believe one thing,’ said he.  ’Whatever else I do, I am not going to gratify any of your curiosity.  You see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last interview upon the subject.’

‘Our last interview!’ cried Morris.

‘The stirrup-cup, dear boy,’ returned Michael.  ’I can’t have my business hours encroached upon.  And, by the by, have you no business of your own?  Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?’

‘I believe it to be malice,’ repeated Morris doggedly.  ’You always hated and despised me from a boy.’

‘No, no—­not hated,’ returned Michael soothingly.  ’I rather like you than otherwise; there’s such a permanent surprise about you, you look so dark and attractive from a distance.  Do you know that to the naked eye you look romantic?—­like what they call a man with a history?  And indeed, from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is full of incident.’

‘Yes,’ said Morris, disregarding these remarks, ’it’s no use coming here.  I shall see your father.’

‘O no, you won’t,’ said Michael.  ‘Nobody shall see my father.’

‘I should like to know why,’ cried his cousin.

‘I never make any secret of that,’ replied the lawyer.  ‘He is too ill.’

‘If he is as ill as you say,’ cried the other, ’the more reason for accepting my proposal.  I will see him.’

‘Will you?’ said Michael, and he rose and rang for his clerk.

It was now time, according to Sir Faraday Bond, the medical baronet whose name is so familiar at the foot of bulletins, that Joseph (the poor Golden Goose) should be removed into the purer air of Bournemouth; and for that uncharted wilderness of villas the family now shook off the dust of Bloomsbury; Julia delighted, because at Bournemouth she sometimes made acquaintances; John in despair, for he was a man of city tastes; Joseph indifferent where he was, so long as there was pen and ink and daily papers, and he could avoid martyrdom at the office; Morris himself, perhaps, not displeased to pretermit these visits to the city, and have a quiet time for thought.  He was prepared for any sacrifice; all he desired was to get his money again and clear his feet of leather; and it would be strange, since he was so modest in his desires, and the pool amounted to upward of a hundred and sixteen thousand pounds—­it would be strange indeed if he could find no way of influencing Michael.  ‘If I could only guess his reason,’ he repeated to himself; and by day, as he walked in Branksome Woods, and by night, as he turned upon his bed, and at meal-times, when he forgot to eat, and in the bathing machine, when he forgot to dress himself, that problem was constantly before him:  Why had Michael refused?

At last, one night, he burst into his brother’s room and woke him.

‘What’s all this?’ asked John.

‘Julia leaves this place tomorrow,’ replied Morris.  ’She must go up to town and get the house ready, and find servants.  We shall all follow in three days.’