The kindly old blue eyes flashed round on his companion's face.

"Do you know it?"

The peer thrust forward his chin and spoilt what small claims he had
to good looks.

"No; I've heard of it, though. I know of a wom--a lady, who has
large estates there--a Mrs. Harrington."

"The Honourable Mrs. Harrington is a sort of relation of my niece's,
Miss Challoner. I call her Miss Challoner, although she is my
niece, because she is above me."

His lordship glanced at the ceiling again.

"I mean she is a lady. And I'm going to Majorca to fetch her. At
least, I'm trying to get there, but I cannot somehow find out about
the boat. They're a bit irregular, it seems, and this stupid
jabbering of theirs does flurry me so. Now, what's this? Eh?
Pudding, is it? Well, it doesn't look like it. No, thank ye!"

The poor old man was soon upset by insignificant trifles, and after
he had given way to a little burst of petulance like this, he had a
strange, half pathetic way of staring straight in front of him for a
few seconds, as if collecting himself again.

It happened that Lord Seahampton was a good-natured young man, with
rather a soft heart, such as many horsey persons possess. Something