In a few moments Frampton returned.  ’Yes, my Lord, a girl named Blackett was once engaged to help in the scullery, but was discharged for dishonesty at the end of a month.’

‘Did not Frampton know that that related to me?’ said Louis, sotto voce, to his aunt.  ’Did he not trust that he was reducing me from a sea anemone to a lump of quaking jelly?’

So far from this consummation, Lord Fitzjocelyn looked as triumphant as Don Quixote liberating Gines de Pasamonte.  He and his father might have sat for illustrations of

’Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care,’

as they occupied the two ends of the dinner-table; the Earl concealing anxiety and vexation, under more than ordinary punctilious politeness; the Viscount doing his share of the honours with easy, winning grace and attention, and rattling on in an under-tone of lively conversation with Aunt Catharine.  Mary was silently amazed at her encouraging him; but perhaps she could not help spoiling him the more, because there was a storm impending.  At least, as soon as she was in the drawing-room, she became restless and nervous, and said that she wished his father could see that speaking sternly to him never did any good; besides, it was mere inconsiderateness, the excess of chivalrous compassion.

Mrs. Ponsonby said she thought young men’s ardour more apt to be against than for the poacher.

‘I must confess,’ said Aunt Catherine, with all the reluctance of a high-spirited Dynevor,—­’I must confess that Louis is no sportsman!  He was eager about it once, till he had become a good shot; and then it lost all zest for him, and he prefers his own vagaries.  He never takes a gun unless James drives him out; and, oddly enough, his father is quite vexed at his indifference, as if it were not manly.  If his father would only understand him!’

The specimen of that day had almost made Mrs. Ponsonby fear that there was nothing to understand, and that only dear Aunt Kitty’s affection could perceive anything but amiable folly, and it was not much better when the young gentleman reappeared, looking very debonnaire, and, sitting down beside Mrs. Frost, said, in a voice meant for her alone—­’Henry IV; Part II., the insult to Chief Justice Gascoigne.  My father will presently enter and address you: 

                         ’O that it could be proved
      That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
      In cradle-cloths our children as they lay,—­
      Call’d yours Fitzjocelyn—­mine, Frost Dynevor!’

’For shame, Louis!  I shall have to call you Fitzjocelyn!  You are behaving very ill.’

‘Insulting the English constitution in the person of seven squires.’

’Don’t, my dear!  It was the very thing to vex your father that you should have put yourself in such a position.’

’Bearding the Northwold bench with a groundsel plume and a knitting-needle: