“Anderbury-on-the-Mount,” said the baron, “was the name of the place mentioned to me; but I understood it was a little place.”

“Oh! sir, that is quite a mistake; who told you so?  It’s the largest place about here; there are a matter of twenty-seven rooms in it, and it stands altogether upon three hundred acres of ground.”

“And have you the assurance,” said the baron, “to call that anything but a cottage, when the castle of the Stolmuyers, at Saltzburgh, has one suite of reception rooms thirty in number, opening into each other, and the total number of apartments in the and whole building is two hundred and sixty, it is surrounded by eight miles of territory.”

“The devil!” said the landlord.  “I beg your pardon, sir, but when I am astonished, I generally say the devil.  They want eight hundred pounds a year for Anderbury-on-the-Mount.”

“A mere trifle.  I will sleep here to-night, and in the morning I will go and look at the place.  It is near the sea?”

“Half a mile, sir, exactly, from the beach; and one of the most curious circumstances of all connected with it is, that there is a subterranean passage from the grounds leading right away down to the sea-coast.  A most curious place, sir, partly cut out of the cliff, with cellars in it for wine, and other matters, that in the height of summer are kept as cool as in the deep winter time.  It’s more for curiosity than use, such a place; and the old couple, that now take care of the house, make a pretty penny, I’ll be bound, though they won’t own it, by showing that part of the place.”

“It may suit me, but I shall be able to give a decisive answer when I see it on the morrow.  You will let my attendants have what they require, and see that my horses be well looked to.”

“Certainly, oh! certainly, sir, of course; you might go far, indeed, sir, before you found an inn where everything would be done as things are done here.  Is there anything in particular, sir, you would like for dinner?”

“How can I tell that, idiot, until the dinner time arrives?”

“Well, but, sir, in that case, you know, we scarcely know what to do, because you see, sir, you understand—­”

“It is very strange to me that you can neither see nor understand your duty.  I am accustomed to having the dinner tables spread with all that money can procure; then I choose, but not before, what it suits me to partake of.”

“Wil, sir, that is a very good way, and perhaps we ain’t quite so used to that sort of thing as we ought to be in these parts; but another time, sir, we shall know better what we are about, without a doubt, and I only hope, sir, that we shall have you in the neighbourhood for a long time; and so, sir, putting one thing to another, and then drawing a conclusion from both of them, you see, sir, you will be able to understand.”

“Peace! begone! what is the use of all this bellowing to me—­I want it not—­I care not for it.”