‘There’s no fear, no fear,’ said the doctor, who was almost put out of countenance by the orator’s intense gaze.  The countess looked colder and more angry, and muttered something to herself about a bear-garden.

’Gardez Gresham; eh?  Harry! mind that when you’re sticking in a gap I’m coming after you.  Well, I am sure I am very obliged to you for the honour you have all done me, especially the ladies who don’t do this sort of things on ordinary occasions.  I wish they did; don’t you, doctor?  And talking of the ladies, my aunty and cousins have come all the way from London to hear me take this speech which certainly is not worth the trouble; but, all the same I am very much obliged to them.’  And he looked round and made a little bow at the countess.  ’And so I am to Mr and Mrs Jackson, and Mr and Mrs and Miss Bateson, and Mr Baker—­I’m not at all obliged to you, Harry—­and to Mr Oriel and Miss Oriel, and to Mr Umbleby, and to Dr Thorne, and to Mary—­I beg her pardon, I mean Miss Thorne.’  And then he sat down, amid the loud plaudits of the company, and a string of blessings which came from the servants behind him.

After this the ladies rose and departed.  As she went, Lady Arabella, kissed her son’s forehead, and then his sisters kissed him, and one or two of his lady-cousins; and then Miss Bateson shook him by the hand.  ‘Oh, Miss Bateson,’ said he, ‘I thought the kissing was to go all round.’  So Miss Bateson laughed and went her way; and Patience Oriel nodded at him, but Mary Thorne, as she quietly left the room, almost hidden among the extensive draperies of the grander ladies, hardly allowed her eyes to meet his.

He got up to hold the door for them as the passed; and as they went, he managed to take Patience by the hand; he took her hand and pressed it for a moment, but dropped it quickly, in order that he might go through the same ceremony with Mary, but Mary was too quick for him.

‘Frank,’ said Mr Gresham, as soon as the door was closed, ’bring your glass here, my boy;’ and the father made room for his son close beside himself.  ’The ceremony is now over, so you may have your place of dignity.’  Frank sat himself down where he was told, and Mr Gresham put his hand on his son’s shoulder and half caressed him, while the tears stood in his eyes.  ’I think the doctor is right, Baker, I think he’ll never make us ashamed of him.’

‘I am sure he never will,’ said Baker.

‘I don’t think he ever will,’ said Dr Thorne.

The tones of the men’s voices were very different.  Mr Baker did not care a straw about it; why should he?  He had an heir of his own as well as the squire; one also who was the apple of his eye.  But the doctor,—­he did care; he had a niece, to be sure, whom he loved, perhaps as well as these men loved their sons; but there was room in his heart also for young Frank Gresham.

After this small expose of feeling they sat silent for a moment or two.  But silence was not dear to the heart of the Honourable John, and so he took up the running.