“Tobias, be a little more respectful to my uncle, if you please.”

“Why, zor, yue knaw en well enough,” said the man in the same surly fashion.  “And I’ll tell yue this, Maaester Harry, if yue be after dinner with en, and he has a bottle o’ poort wine that he puts on the mantelpiece, and he says to yue to let that aloaen, vor ’tis a medicine-zart o’ wine, don’t yue heed en, but have that wine.  ’Tis the real old poort wine, zor, that yuer vather gied en—­the dahmned old pagan!”

The young man burst out laughing, instead of reprimanding Tobias, who maintained his sulky impassiveness of face.

“Why, zor, I be gardener now, too:  yaaes I be, to save the wages.  And he’s gone clean mazed about that garden—­yaaes, I think.  Would yue believe this, Maaester Harry, that he killed every one o’ the blessed strawberries last year with a lot o’ wrack from the bache, because he said it wued be as good for them as for the ’sparagus?”

“Well, but the old chap finds amusement in pottering about the garden—­” said Master Harry.

“The old fule!” repeated Tobias, in an under tone.

“And the theory is sound about the seaweed and the strawberries; just as his old notion of getting a green rose by pouring sulphate of copper in at the roots.”

“Yaaes, that were another pretty thing, Maaester Harry, and he had the tin labels all printed out in French, and he waited and waited, and there bain’t a fairly guede rose left in the garden.  And his violet glass for the cucumbers:  he burned en up to once, although ’twere fine to hear’n talk about the sunlight and the rays and such nonsenses.  He be a strange mahn, zor, and a dahmned close’n with his penny-pieces, Christian and all as he calls his-sen.  There’s Miss Juliott, zor, she’s go-in’ to get married, I suppose; and when she goes no one ’ll dare spake to ’n.  Be yue going to stop long this time, Maaester Harry?”

“Not at the Hollies, Tobias.  I shall go down to the Queen’s to-morrow:  I’ve got rooms there.”

“So much the better—­so much the better,” said the frank but inhospitable retainer; and presently the jogtrot old animal between the shafts was pulled up in front of a certain square old-fashioned building of gray stone which was prettily surrounded with trees.  They had arrived at the Rev. Mr. Penaluna’s house, and there was a young lady standing in the light of the hall, she having opened the door very softly as she heard the carriage drive up.

“So here you are, Harry; and you’ll stay with us the whole fortnight, won’t you?  Come in to the dining-room—­I have some supper ready for you.  Papa’s gone to bed, and he desired me to give you his excuses, and he hopes you’ll make yourself quite at home, as you always do, Harry.”

He did make himself quite at home, for, having kissed his cousin and flung his topcoat down in the hall, he went into the dining-room and took possession of an easy-chair.