So soon as Philip had said how-do-you-do to Maria and Hilda, giving to
each a gentle pressure of the hand, George greeted him with warmth.

"How are you, Philip? delighted to see you; how is my uncle? Bellamy
saw him this morning, and thought that he did not look well."

"I certainly did think, Mr. Philip," said the gentleman alluded to, a
very young-looking, apple-faced little man, with a timid manner, who
stood in the background nervously rubbing his dry hands together--"I
certainly did think that the squire looked aged when I saw him this
morning."

"Well, you see, Mr. Bellamy, eighty-two is a good age, is it not?"
said Philip, cheerfully.

"Yes, Mr. Philip, a good age, a very good age, for the _next heir_,"
and Mr. Bellamy chuckled softly somewhere down in his throat, and
retreated a little.

"He is getting facetious," broke in George, "that marriage has done
that for him. By the way, Philip, do you know Mrs. Bellamy? she has
only been down here a fortnight, you know. What, no! Then you have a
pleasure to come" (raising his voice so that it might be heard at the
other end of the room), "a very clever woman, and as handsome as she
is clever."

"Indeed! I must ask you to introduce me presently, Mr. Bellamy. I only
recently heard that you were married."