“Charming old pigeon-hole it is,” said its owner, “I have not seen it since I went into the Guards.  Campbell says it’s a shame of me, and so it is one, I suppose; but how beautiful you have made the garden look!”

“Lucia is very fond of gardening,” said Elsley, who was very fond of it also, and had great taste therein; but he was afraid to confess any such tastes before a man who, he thought, would not understand him.

“And that fine old wood—­full of cocks it used to be—­I hope you worked it well last year.”

Elsley did not shoot; but he had heard there was plenty of game there.

“Plenty of cocks,” said his guest, correcting him; “but for game, the less we say about that the better.  I really wonder you do not shoot; it fills up time so in the winter.”

“There is really no winter to fill up here, thanks to this delicious climate; and I have my books.”

“Ah!  I wish I had.  I wish heartily,” said he, in a confidential tone, “you, or Campbell, or some of your clever men, would sell me a little of their book-learning; as Valencia says to me, ’brains are so common in the world, I wonder how none fell to your share.’”

“I do not think that they are an article which is for sale, if Solomon is to be believed.”

“And if they were, I couldn’t afford to buy, with this Irish Encumbered Estates’ Bill.  But now, this is one thing I wanted to say.  Is everything here just as you would wish?  Of course no one could wish a better tenant; but any repairs, you know, or improvements which I ought to do of course?  Only tell me what you think should be done; for, of course, you know more about these things than I do—­can’t know less.”

“Nothing, I assure you, Lord Scoutbush.  I have always left those matters to Mr. Tardrew.”

“Ah, my dear fellow, you shouldn’t do that.  He is such a screw, as all honest stewards are.  Screws me, I know, and I dare say has screwed you too.”

“Never, I assure you.  I never gave him the opportunity, and he has been most civil.”

“Well, in future, just order him to do what you like, and just as if you were landlord, in fact; and if the old man haggles, write to me, and I’ll blow him up.  Delighted to have a man of taste like you here, who can improve the place for me.”

“I assure you, Lord Scoutbush, I need nothing, nor does the place.  I am a man of very few wants.”

“I wish I were,” sighed Scoutbush, pulling out another of Hudson’s highest-priced cigars.

“And I am bound to say”—­(and here Elsley choked a little; but the Viscount’s frankness and humility had softened him, and he determined to be very magnanimous)—­“I am bound in honour, after owing to your kindness such an exquisite retreat—­all that either I or Lucia could have fancied for ourselves, and more—­not to trouble you by asking for little matters which we really do not need.”

And so Elsley, instead of simply asking to have the house-drains set right, which Lord Scoutbush would have done upon the spot, chose to be lofty-minded, at the risk of killing his wife and children.