“I daresay it was,” said Johnny;—­“Or perhaps the flies.”

“Flies!” said the earl, angrily.  “Do you suppose he isn’t used to flies?  Come away.  I ordered dinner at seven, and it’s past six now.  My brother-in-law, Colonel Dale, is up in town, and he dines with us.”  So he took Johnny’s arm, and led him off through the show, calling his attention as he went to several beasts which were inferior to his own.

And then they walked down through Portman Square and Grosvenor Square, and across Piccadilly to Jermyn Street.  John Eames acknowledged to himself that it was odd that he should have an earl leaning on his arm as he passed along through the streets.  At home, in his own life, his daily companions were Cradell and Amelia Roper, Mrs Lupex and Mrs Roper.  The difference was very great, and yet he found it quite as easy to talk to the earl as to Mrs Lupex.

“You know the Dales down at Allington, of course,” said the earl.

“Oh, yes, I know them.”

“But, perhaps, you never met the colonel.”

“I don’t think I ever did.”

“He’s a queer sort of fellow;—­very well in his way, but he never does anything.  He and my sister live at Torquay, and as far as I can find out, they neither of them have any occupation of any sort.  He’s come up to town now because we both had to meet our family lawyers and sign some papers, but he looks on the journey as a great hardship.  As for me, I’m a year older than he is, but I wouldn’t mind going up and down from Guestwick every day.”

“It’s looking after the bull that does it,” said Eames.

“By George! you’re right, Master Johnny.  My sister and Crofts may tell me what they like, but when a man’s out in the open air for eight or nine hours every day, it doesn’t much matter where he goes to sleep after that.  This is Pawkins’s—­capital good house, but not so good as it used to be while old Pawkins was alive.  Show Mr Eames up into a bedroom to wash his hands.”

Colonel Dale was much like his brother in face, but was taller, even thinner, and apparently older.  When Eames went into the sitting-room, the colonel was there alone, and had to take upon himself the trouble of introducing himself.  He did not get up from his arm-chair, but nodded gently at the young man.  “Mr Eames, I believe?  I knew your father at Guestwick, a great many years ago;” then he turned his face back towards the fire and sighed.

“It’s got very cold this afternoon,” said Johnny, trying to make conversation.

“It’s always cold in London,” said the colonel.

“If you had to be here in August you wouldn’t say so.”

“God forbid,” said the colonel, and he sighed again, with his eyes fixed upon the fire.  Eames had heard of the very gallant way in which Orlando Dale had persisted in running away with Lord De Guest’s sister, in opposition to very terrible obstacles, and as he now looked at the intrepid lover, he thought that there must have been a great change since those days.  After that nothing more was said till the earl came down.