“Supper is insupportably late,” says she; with a yawn, and rings the hand-bell.  “Scipio,” she cries, “why are we not served?”

I took a stride forward.  But my uncle raised a restraining hand.

“Caroline, remember that this is not our house,” says he, reprovingly.

There fell a deep silence; the log cracking; and just then the door swung on its hinges, and Mr. Starkie entered with the great bunch of keys in his hand.

“The buildings are all secure; Mr. Richard,” he said.

“Very good, Starkie,” I replied.  I turned to Scipio, standing by the low-boy, his teeth, going like a castanet.

“You may serve at the usual hour, Scipio,” said I.

Supper began stiff as a state banquet.  My uncle was conciliatory, with the manners of a Crichton.  My aunt, not having come from generations of silver and self-control, flatly in a bad humour.  Mr. Allen talked from force of habit, being used to pay in such kind for his meals.  But presently the madeira, warmed these two into a better spirit.  I felt that I had victory on my side, and was nothing loth to join them at whist, Philip and I against the rector and my aunt, and won something like two pounds apiece from them.  Grafton made it a rule never to play.

The next morning, when I returned from my inspection, I found the rector and Philip had decamped with two of our choice horses, and that my uncle and aunt had commanded the barge, and gone to Mr. Lloyd’s.  I sent for Scipio.

“Fore de Lawd, Marse Richard,” he wailed, “’twan’t Scipio’s fault.  Marse Grafton is dry fambly!” This was Scipio’s strongest argument.  “I jes’ can’t refuse one of de fambly, Marse Dick; and old Marse he say he too old now for quarrellin’.”

I saw that resistance was useless.  There was nothing for it but to bide any time.  And I busied myself with bills of cargo until I heard the horses on the drive.  Mr. Allen and Philip came swaggering in, flushed with the exercise, and calling for punch, and I met them in the hall.

“A word with you, Mr. Allen!” I called out.

“A thousand, Mr. Richard, if you like,” he said gayly, “as soon as this thirst of mine be quenched.”

I waited while he drained two glasses, when he followed me into the library, closing the door behind him.

“Now, sir,” I began, “though by a chance you are my mental and spiritual adviser, I intend speaking plain.  For I know you to be one of the greatest rogues in the colony.”

I watched him narrowly the while, for I had some notion he might run me through.  But I had misjudged him.

“Speak plain, by all means,” he replied; “but first let me ask for some tobacco.”

He filled the bowl of his pipe, and sat him down by the window.  For the moment I was silent with sheer surprise.

“You know I can’t call you out,” he went on, surrounding himself with clouds of smoke, “a lad of eighteen or so.  And even if I could, I doubt whether I should.  I like you, Richard,” said he.  “You are straight-spoken and commanding.  In brief, sir, you are the kind of lad I should have been had not fate pushed me into a corner, and made me squirm for life’s luxuries.  I hate squirming as much as another.  This is prime tobacco, Richard.”