“Mrs. Lindsay,” said he, as they were preparing to go, “I hope, after all, that this clever son of yours is not a fortune-hunter.”

“He need not be so, my lord,” replied his mother, “and neither is he.  He himself will have a handsome property.”

“Will have.  I would rather you wouldn’t speak in the future tense, though.  Woodward,” he added, addressing that gentleman, “remember that I told you that I sleep with one eye open.”

“If you have any doubts, my lord, on this subject,” replied Woodward, “you may imitate me:  sleep with both open.”

“Ay, as the hares do, and devil a bit they’re the better for it; but, in the meantime, what property have you, or will you have?  There is nothing like coming to the point.”

“My lord,” replied Woodward, “I respect Miss Riddle too much to enter upon such a topic in her presence.  You must excuse me, then, for the present; but if you wish for precise information on the subject, I refer you to my mother, who will, upon a future occasion—­and I trust it will be soon—­afford you every satisfaction on this matter.”

“Well,” replied his lordship, “that is fair enough—­a little vague, indeed—­but no matter, your mother and I will talk about it.  In the meantime you are a devilish clever fellow, and, as I said, I like you; but still I will suffer no fortune-hunter to saddle himself upon my property.  I repeat it, I sleep with one eye open.  I will be happy to see you soon, Mr. Woodward; but remember I will be determined on this subject altogether by the feelings of my niece Tom here.”

“I have already said, my lord,” replied Woodward, “that, except as a rational element in domestic happiness, I am indifferent to the consideration or influence of property.  The prevailing motives with me are the personal charms; the character, and the well-known virtues of your niece.  It is painful to me to say even this in her presence, but your lordship has forced it from me.  However, I trust that Miss Riddle understands and will pardon me.”

“Mr. Woodward,” she observed, “you have said nothing unbecoming a gentleman; nothing certainly but that which you could not avoid saying.”

After the usual forms of salutation at parting, Harry and his mother entered the old carriage and proceeded on their way home.

“Well, Harry,” said his mother, “what do you think?”

“A hit,” he replied; “a hit with both, but especially with the niece, who certainly is a fine girl.  If there is to be any opposition, it will be with that comical old buffoon, her uncle.  He says he sleeps with one eye open, and I believe it.  You told me it could not be determined whether he was more fool or knave; but, from all I have seen of him, the devil a bit of fool I can perceive, but, on the contrary, a great deal of the knave.  Take my word for it, old Cockle-town is not to be imposed upon.”

“Is there no likelihood of that wretch, Alice Goodwin, dying?” said his mother.