I looked at Ireton. To my astonishment he was pallid, the lines of his
countenance indicating fiercest wrath. He marched on in silence till we had
reached the field.

'The fellow took us for cheap-trippers, I suppose,' then burst from his
lips.

'Not very likely.'

'Then why the devil did he speak like that?'

The grave reproof had exasperated him; he was flushed and his hands
trembled. I observed him with the utmost interest, and it became clear from
the angry words he poured forth that he could not endure to be supposed
anything but a gentleman at large. Here was the old characteristic; it had
merely been dormant. I tried to laugh him out of his irritation, but soon
saw that the attempt was dangerous. On the way home he talked very little;
the encounter in the wood had thoroughly upset him.

Next morning he came into my room with a laugh that I did not like; he
seated himself stiffly, looked at me from beneath his knitted brows, and
said in an aggressive tone:

'I have got to know all about that impudent old fellow.'

'Indeed? Who is he?'

'A poverty-stricken squire, with an old house and a few acres--the remnants
of a large estate gambled away by his father. I know him by name, and I'm