‘Doesn’t it look nice, and grand, and patriarchal?’ said Beatrice, turning to her neighbour.

‘Patriarchal, certainly,’ said Mr Oriel.  ’I should grow one myself if I had not the fear of the archbishop before my eyes.’

What was next said to him was in a whisper, audible only to himself.

’Doctor, did you know Wildman of the Ninth.  He was left as surgeon at Scutari for two years.  Why, my beard to his is only a little down.’

‘A little way down, you mean,’ said Mr Gazebee.

‘Yes,’ said Frank, resolutely set against laughing at Mr Gazebee’s pun.  ’Why, his beard descends to his ankles, and he is obliged to tie it in a bag at night, because his feet get entangled in it when he is asleep!’

‘Oh, Frank!’ said one of the girls.

This was all very well for the squire, and Lady Arabella, and the girls.  They were all delighted to praise Frank, and talk about him.  Neither did it come amiss to Mr Oriel and the doctor, who had both a personal interest in the young hero.  But Sir Louis did not like it at all.  He was the only baronet in the room, and yet nobody took any notice of him.  He was seated in the post of honour, next to Lady Arabella; but even Lady Arabella seemed to think more of her own son than of him.  Seeing he was ill-used, he meditated revenge; but not the less did it behove him to make some effort to attract attention.

‘Was your ladyship in London, this season?’

Lady Arabella had not been in London at all this year, and it was a sore subject with her.  ‘No,’ said she, very graciously; ’circumstances have kept us at home.’

’Ah, indeed!  I am very sorry for that; that must be very distressing to a person like your ladyship.  But things are mending, perhaps?’

Lady Arabella did not in the least understand him.  ‘Mending!’ she said, in her peculiar tone of aristocratic indifference; and then turned to Mr Gazebee, who was on the other side of her.

Sir Louis was not going to stand this.  He was the first man in the room, and he knew his own importance.  It was not to be borne that Lady Arabella should turn to talk to a dirty attorney, and leave him, a baronet, to eat his dinner without notice.  If nothing else would move her, he would let her know who was the real owner of the Greshamsbury title-deeds.

‘I think I saw your ladyship out to-day, taking a ride,’ Lady Arabella had driven through the village in her pony-chair.

‘I never ride,’ said she, turning her head for one moment from Mr Gazebee.

’In the one-horse carriage, I mean, my lady.  I was delighted with the way you whipped him up round the corner.’

Whipped him up round the corner!  Lady Arabella could make no answer to this; so she went on talking to Mr Gazebee.  Sir Louis, repulsed, but not vanquished—­resolved not to be vanquished by any Lady Arabella—­turned his attention to his plate for a minute or two, and then recommenced.