The butler laid a special emphasis on the personal pronoun.  Julius turned to his brother.  The change for the better in the state of Lord Holchester’s health made Geoffrey’s position, at that moment, an embarrassing one.  He had been positively forbidden to enter the house.  His one excuse for setting that prohibitory sentence at defiance rested on the assumption that his father was actually dying.  As matters now stood, Lord Holchester’s order remained in full force.  The under-servants in the hall (charged to obey that order as they valued their places) looked from “Mr. Geoffrey” to the butler, The butler looked from “Mr. Geoffrey” to “Mr. Julius.”  Julius looked at his brother.  There was an awkward pause.  The position of the second son was the position of a wild beast in the house—­a creature to be got rid of, without risk to yourself, if you only knew how.

Geoffrey spoke, and solved the problem

“Open the door, one of you fellows,” he said to the footmen.  “I’m off.”

“Wait a minute,” interposed his brother.  “It will be a sad disappointment to my mother to know that you have been here, and gone away again without seeing her.  These are no ordinary circumstances, Geoffrey.  Come up stairs with me—­I’ll take it on myself.”

“I’m blessed if I take it on myself!” returned Geoffrey.  “Open the door!”

“Wait here, at any rate,” pleaded Julius, “till I can send you down a message.”

“Send your message to Nagle’s Hotel.  I’m at home at Nagle’s—­I’m not at home here.”

At that point the discussion was interrupted by the appearance of a little terrier in the hall.  Seeing strangers, the dog began to bark.  Perfect tranquillity in the house had been absolutely insisted on by the doctors; and the servants, all trying together to catch the animal and quiet him, simply aggravated the noise he was making.  Geoffrey solved this problem also in his own decisive way.  He swung round as the dog was passing him, and kicked it with his heavy boot.  The little creature fell on the spot, whining piteously.  “My lady’s pet dog!” exclaimed the butler.  “You’ve broken its ribs, Sir.”  “I’ve broken it of barking, you mean,” retorted Geoffrey.  “Ribs be hanged!” He turned to his brother.  “That settles it,” he said, jocosely.  “I’d better defer the pleasure of calling on dear mamma till the next opportunity.  Ta-ta, Julius.  You know where to find me.  Come, and dine.  We’ll give you a steak at Nagle’s that will make a man of you.”

He went out.  The tall footmen eyed his lordship’s second son with unaffected respect.  They had seen him, in public, at the annual festival of the Christian-Pugilistic-Association, with “the gloves” on.  He could have beaten the biggest man in the hall within an inch of his life in three minutes.  The porter bowed as he threw open the door.  The whole interest and attention of the domestic establishment then present was concentrated on Geoffrey.  Julius went up stairs to his mother without attracting the slightest notice.