to her property in Scotland.  Is that true?—­It is?—­I congratulate you with all my heart.  Why are you visiting here, instead of looking after your house and lands?  Oh! it’s only three-and-twenty miles from this; and you’re going to look after it to-day, by the next train?  Quite right.  And—­what? what?—­coming back again the day after to-morrow?  Why should you come back?  Some special attraction here, I suppose?  I hope it’s the right sort of attraction.  You’re very young—­you’re exposed to all sorts of temptations.  Have you got a solid foundation of good sense at the bottom of you?  It is not inherited from your poor father, if you have.  You must have been a mere boy when he ruined his children’s prospects.  How have you lived from that time to this?  What were you doing when your aunt’s will made an idle man of you for life?”

The question was a searching one.  Arnold answered it, without the slightest hesitation; speaking with an unaffected modesty and simplicity which at once won Sir Patrick’s heart.

“I was a boy at Eton, Sir,” he said, “when my father’s losses ruined him.  I had to leave school, and get my own living; and I have got it, in a roughish way, from that time to this.  In plain English, I have followed the sea—­in the merchant-service.”

“In plainer English still, you met adversity like a brave lad, and you have fairly earned the good luck that has fallen to you,” rejoined Sir Patrick.  “Give me your hand—­I have taken a liking to you.  You’re not like the other young fellows of the present time.  I shall call you ‘Arnold.’  You mus’n’t return the compliment and call me ‘Patrick,’ mind—­I’m too old to be treated in that way.  Well, and how do you get on here?  What sort of a woman is my sister-in-law? and what sort of a house is this?”

Arnold burst out laughing.

“Those are extraordinary questions for you to put to me,” he said.  “You talk, Sir, as if you were a stranger here!”

Sir Patrick touched a spring in the knob of his ivory cane.  A little gold lid flew up, and disclosed the snuff-box hidden inside.  He took a pinch, and chuckled satirically over some passing thought, which he did not think it necessary to communicate to his young friend.

“I talk as if I was a stranger here, do I?” he resumed.  “That’s exactly what I am.  Lady Lundie and I correspond on excellent terms; but we run in different grooves, and we see each other as seldom as possible.  My story,” continued the pleasant old man, with a charming frankness which leveled all differences of age and rank between Arnold and himself, “is not entirely unlike yours; though I am old enough to be your grandfather.  I was getting my living, in my way (as a crusty old Scotch lawyer), when my brother married again.  His death, without leaving a son by either of his wives, gave me a lift in the world, like you.  Here I am (to my own sincere regret) the present baronet.  Yes, to my sincere regret!  All sorts of responsibilities which I never bargained for are thrust on my shoulders.  I am the head of the family; I am my niece’s guardian; I am compelled to appear at this lawn-party—­and (between ourselves) I am as completely out of my element as a man can be.  Not a single familiar face meets me among all these fine people.  Do you know any body here?”