going to roll them up without seeming to think of their value. But this did not suit Mr Featherstone, who was eying him intently.
"Come, don't you think it worth your while to count 'em? You take money like a lord; I suppose you lose it like one."
"I thought I was not to look a gift-horse in the mouth, sir. But I shall be very happy to count them."
Fred was not so happy, however, after he had counted them. For they actually presented the absurdity of being less than his hopefulness had decided that they must be. What can the fitness of things mean, if not their fitness to a man's expectations? Failing this, absurdity and atheism gape behind him. The collapse for Fred was severe when he found that he held no more than five twenties, and his share in the higher education of this country did not seem to help him. Nevertheless he said, with rapid changes in his fair complexion—
"It is very handsome of you, sir."
"I should think it is," said Mr Featherstone, locking his box and replacing it, then taking off his spectacles deliberately, and at length, as if his inward meditation had more deeply convinced him, repeating, "I should think it is handsome."
