and they put a tail to his name."

Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a languid
composure that contrasted deliciously with Richard's heat in telling
the story his way (to be sure, Sir Charles had got Huntercombe and
Bassett, and it is easier to be philosophical on the right side of the
boundary hedge), and wound up with a sort of corollary: "Dick Bassett
suffers by his father's vices, and I profit by mine's virtues. Where's
the injustice?"

"Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the better."

Sir Charles demurred. "Oh, I don't want to quarrel with the fellow: but
he is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery estate, all
in broken patches. He shoots my pheasants in the unfairest way." Here
the landed proprietor showed real irritation, but only for a moment. He
concluded calmly, "The fact is, he is not quite a gentleman. Fancy his
coming and whining to you about our family affairs, and then telling
you a falsehood!"

"No, no; be did not mean. It was his way of looking at things. You can
afford to forgive him."

"Yes, but not if he sets you against me."

"But he cannot do that. The more any one was to speak against you, the
more I--of course."

This admission fired Sir Charles; he drew nearer, and, thanks to his
cousin's interference, spoke the language of love more warmly and