“Perfectly true, as you will see,” she replied.

“But what could put such a ridiculous absurdity into his head?”

“Because he thought of the name before the house was built, and he got it built simply to suit the name.  ‘There is no use,’ said he, ’in calling it Cockle Hall unless it resembles a cockle;’ and, indeed, when you see it, you will admit the resemblance.”

“Egad,” said her son, “I never dreamed that fate was likely to cramp me in a cockleshell.  I dare say there is a touch of sublimity about it.  The associations are in favor of it.”

“No,” replied his mother, “but it has plenty of comfort and convenience about, it.  The plan was his own, and he contrived to make it, notwithstanding its ludicrous shape, one of the most agreeable residences in the country.  He is a blunt humorist, who drinks a good deal, and instead of feeling offence at his manner, which is rather rough, you will please him best by answering him exactly in his own spirit.”

“I am glad you gave me this hint,” said her son; “I like that sort of thing, and it will go hard if I don’t give him as good as he brings.”

“In that case,” replied the mother, “the chances will be ten to one in your favor.  Seem, above all things, to like his manner, because the old fool is vain of it, and nothing gratifies him so much.”

“But about the niece?  What is the cue there, mother?”

“The cue of a gentleman, Harry—­of a well-bred and respectful gentleman.  You may humor the old fellow to the top of his bent; but when you become the gentleman with her, she will not misinterpret your manner with her uncle, but will look upon the transition as a mark of deference to herself.  And now you have your instructions:  be careful and act upon them.  Miss Riddle is a girl of sense, and, they say, of feeling; and it is on this account, I believe, that she is so critical in scrutinizing the conduct and intellect of her lovers.  So there is my last hint.”

“Many thanks, my dear mother; it will, I think, be my own fault if I fail with either uncle or niece, supported as I shall be by your eloquent advocacy.”

On arriving at Cockle Hall, Harry, on looking out of the carriage window, took it for granted that his mother had been absolutely bantering him.  “Cockle Hall!” he exclaimed:  “why, curse the hall I see here, good, bad, or indifferent.  What did you mean, mother?  Were you only jesting?”

“Keep quiet,” she replied, “and above all things don’t seem surprised at the appearance of the place.  Look precisely as if you had been in it ever since it was built.”