met, they succeeded at last in reaching the place they were in search
of.

There was an old and grey porter's lodge, and an old and grey gateway,
with two tall, moss-grown stone pillars, and an iron gate between them.
On the top of the pillars were crumbled stone shields, seemingly held in
place by a lion on each pillar.

"Is this Holmwood House?" asked Morris of the old and grey man who came
out of the porter's lodge.

"Yes, sir, it be," replied the man.

"Are visitors permitted to see the house and the grounds?"

"No, they be'ant," was the answer. "Visitors were allowed on Saturdays
in the old Squire's time, but since he died they tell me the estate is
in the courts, and we have orders from the London lawyers to let nobody
in."

"I can make it worth your while," said George, feeling in his vest
pocket; "this lady would like to see the house."

The old man shook his head, even although George showed him a gold piece
between his finger and thumb. Morris was astonished at this, for he had
the mistaken belief which all Americans have, that a tip in Europe, if
it is only large enough, will accomplish anything.

"I think perhaps I can get permission," said Katherine, "if you will let
me talk a while to the old man."