I thanked him, commented on possible inconvenience to his
arrangements, was overruled, and went off with my friend the
lieutenant to the house. We imprisoned Aunt Elizabeth in the stables,
to her profound indignation, gave directions for lunch to be served to
her, and made our way to Mr. Chase's room.

"So you've met the professor before?" he said, hospitably laying out a
change of raiment for me--we were fortunately much of a height and
build.

"I have never spoken to him," I said. "We travelled down from London
in the same carriage."

"He's a dear old boy, if you rub him the right way. But--I'm telling
you this for your good and guidance; a man wants a chart in a strange
sea--he can cut up rough. And, when he does, he goes off like a four-
point-seven and the population for miles round climbs trees. I think,
if I were you, I shouldn't mention Sir Edward Carson at lunch."

I promised that I would try to avoid the temptation.

"In fact, you'd better keep off Ireland altogether. It's the safest
plan. Any other subject you like. Chatty remarks on Bimetallism would
meet with his earnest attention. A lecture on What to do with the Cold
Mutton would be welcomed. But not Ireland. Shall we do down?"

We got to know each other at lunch.

"Do you hunt hens," asked Tom Chase, who was mixing the salad--he was