the mode of his somersault.  But be it always remembered that there are two modes in which a young man may be free and easy with his elder and superior,—­the mode pleasant and the mode offensive.  Had it been in Johnny’s nature to try the latter, the earl’s back would soon have been up, and the play would have been over.  But it was not in Johnny’s nature to do so, and therefore it was that the earl liked him.

At last came the hour of dinner on Tuesday, or at least the hour at which the squire had been asked to show himself at the Manor House.  Eames, as by agreement with his patron, did not come down so as to show himself till after the interview.  Lady Julia, who had been present at their discussions, had agreed to receive the squire; and then a servant was to ask him to step into the earl’s own room.  It was pretty to see the way in which the three conspired together, planning and plotting with an eagerness that was beautifully green and fresh.

“He can be as cross as an old stick when he likes it,” said the earl, speaking of the squire, “and we must take care not to rub him the wrong way.”

“I shan’t know what to say to him when I come down,” said Johnny.

“Just shake hands with him and don’t say anything,” said Lady Julia.

“I’ll give him some port wine that ought to soften his heart,” said the earl, “and then we’ll see how he is in the evening.”

Eames heard the wheels of the squire’s little open carriage and trembled.  The squire, unconscious of all schemes, soon found himself with Lady Julia, and within two minutes of his entrance was walked off to the earl’s private room.  “Certainly,” he said, “certainly”; and followed the man-servant.  The earl, as he entered, was standing in the middle of the room, and his round rosy face was a picture of good-humour.

“I’m very glad you’ve come, Dale,” said he.  “I’ve something I want to say to you.”

Mr Dale, who neither in heart nor in manner was so light a man as the earl, took the proffered hand of his host, and bowed his head slightly, signifying that he was willing to listen to anything.

“I think I told you,” continued the earl, “that young John Eames is down here; but he goes back to-morrow, as they can’t spare him at his office.  He’s a very good fellow,—­as far as I am able to judge, an uncommonly good young man.  I’ve taken a great fancy to him myself.”

In answer to this Mr Dale did not say much.  He sat down, and in some general terms expressed his good-will towards all the Eames family.

“As you know, Dale, I’m a very bad hand at talking, and therefore I won’t beat about the bush in what I’ve got to say at present.  Of course we’ve all heard of that scoundrel Crosbie, and the way he has treated your niece Lilian.”

“He is a scoundrel,—­an unmixed scoundrel.  But the less we say about that the better.  It is ill mentioning a girl’s name in such a matter as that.”