“Are the Dedlocks down here, Lawrence?” said my guardian as we drove along and Mr. Boythorn trotted on the green turf by the roadside.

“Sir Arrogant Numskull is here,” replied Mr. Boythorn.  “Ha ha ha!  Sir Arrogant is here, and I am glad to say, has been laid by the heels here.  My Lady,” in naming whom he always made a courtly gesture as if particularly to exclude her from any part in the quarrel, “is expected, I believe, daily.  I am not in the least surprised that she postpones her appearance as long as possible.  Whatever can have induced that transcendent woman to marry that effigy and figure-head of a baronet is one of the most impenetrable mysteries that ever baffled human inquiry.  Ha ha ha ha!”

“I suppose,” said my guardian, laughing, “We may set foot in the park while we are here?  The prohibition does not extend to us, does it?”

“I can lay no prohibition on my guests,” he said, bending his head to Ada and me with the smiling politeness which sat so gracefully upon him, “except in the matter of their departure.  I am only sorry that I cannot have the happiness of being their escort about Chesney Wold, which is a very fine place!  But by the light of this summer day, Jarndyce, if you call upon the owner while you stay with me, you are likely to have but a cool reception.  He carries himself like an eight-day clock at all times, like one of a race of eight-day clocks in gorgeous cases that never go and never went—­Ha ha ha!—­but he will have some extra stiffness, I can promise you, for the friends of his friend and neighbour Boythorn!”

“I shall not put him to the proof,” said my guardian.  “He is as indifferent to the honour of knowing me, I dare say, as I am to the honour of knowing him.  The air of the grounds and perhaps such a view of the house as any other sightseer might get are quite enough for me.”

“Well!” said Mr. Boythorn.  “I am glad of it on the whole.  It’s in better keeping.  I am looked upon about here as a second Ajax defying the lightning.  Ha ha ha ha!  When I go into our little church on a Sunday, a considerable part of the inconsiderable congregation expect to see me drop, scorched and withered, on the pavement under the Dedlock displeasure.  Ha ha ha ha!  I have no doubt he is surprised that I don’t.  For he is, by heaven, the most self-satisfied, and the shallowest, and the most coxcombical and utterly brainless ass!”

Our coming to the ridge of a hill we had been ascending enabled our friend to point out Chesney Wold itself to us and diverted his attention from its master.