Stafford nodded.

"He's--he's kindness itself," he said, in a very low voice and not

turning his head. "I didn't know that he was like--this. I didn't know

he cared--"

"It's evident he cares very much!" said Howard, gravely. "If you were

the Prodigal Son he couldn't have felt it more."

"And yet they say--that bagman said--" muttered Stafford with

smouldering rage and indignation.

"There are few things in my life that I regret, my dear Staff; but till

my dying day I shall regret that I did not turn and rend that bagman!

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He's a splendid fellow--splendid! Now I've seen him I don't wonder at

his success. Envy is not one of my numerous vices, Staff; but frankly I

envy you your father! Wake up, old man! We mustn't keep him waiting!

What quarters!" He looked round the room as he moved to go. "Fit for a

prince! But you _are_ a prince! Why, dash it, I feel like a prince

myself! How are you, Measom? Got down all right, then?--I'll give you a

knock when I'm ready, Stafford!"

Stafford dressed quickly, thinking all the while of his father; of his

good looks, his deep, pleasant voice, his affectionate welcome; and

thrusting from him the unfavourable impression which the ornate

splendour of the place had made.

Howard knocked presently and the two men went down. Sir Stephen was

waiting in the hall; and Stafford, with a little thrill of pride,

noticed that he looked still more distinguished in his evening-dress,

which was strikingly plain; a single pearl--but it was priceless

one--was its only ornament.

"By George, you have been quick!" said Sir Stephen, with his genial

smile.

"That's one for yourself, sir," said Stafford.

"Oh, I? I can dress in five minutes," responded Sir Stephen, linking

his arm in Stafford's. "I'm almost as good as a 'quick-change artist.'"

He drew aside to let Howard follow the butler between the two footmen

drawn up beside the door, and they entered the dining-room.

It was of choice American walnut, and lit by rose-shaded electric

lights, in which the plate and the glass, the flowers and the napery

glowed softly: an ideal room which must have filled the famous

decorator who had designed it with just pride and elation. The table

had been reduced to a small oval; and the servants proceeded to serve a

dinner which told Howard that Sir Stephen had become possessed of a

_chef_ who was a _cordon bleu_. The wines were as choice as the _menu_;

but Sir Stephen watered his Chateau claret, and ate but little,

excusing himself in the middle of a sentence with: "I'm setting you a bad example. But there's always a skeleton at my

feast--a rather common one nowadays; they call him Gout. And so you

drove down? That must have been pleasant! It's a pretty country--so I'm

told. I didn't see much of it from the train. But the lake--ah, well,

it's indescribable, isn't it! After all one sees, one is bound to admit

that there is nothing to beat English scenery; of course I include

Irish. We've a strain of Irish blood in us, Mr. Howard, and I always

stand up for the ould counthry. Things are looking up there lately;

we're beginning to appreciated. Give us a year or two, and we'll have

all the world and his wife scampering over it. I've a little Irish

scheme of my own--but I mustn't bore you the first night. Mr. Howard,

if that wine is too thin--"




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