boast of me as such, I will have you turned out neck and crop; but as
Mr. Richard Yorke, my guest, you will be welcome at Crompton, so long as
we two suit each other; only beware, young Sir, that you tell me no
lies. I shall soon get rid of you on these terms," continued the Squire,
with a chuckle; "for to speak truth must be as difficult to you,
considering the stock you come of, as dancing on the tight-rope. Your
mother, indeed, was a first-rate rope-dancer in that way, and I rarely
caught her tripping; but you--"

"Sir," interrupted the young man, passionately, "is this your
hospitality?"

"True, lad, true," answered the Squire, good-humoredly; "I had intended
to have forgotten Madam Yorke's existence. Well, Sir, what _are_
you?--what do you do, I mean, for a livelihood--beside 'night-watching?'"

"I am a landscape-painter, Sir."

"Umph!" grunted Carew, contemptuously; "you don't get fat on that
pasture, I reckon. Have you never done any thing else?"

For a single instant the young man hesitated to reply; then answered,
"Never."

"You are quite sure of that?" inquired the other, suspiciously.

"Quite sure."

"Good! Here, come with me."