He could not bring himself positively to deny that he had debts and
difficulties; but he would by no means open the state of his affairs
to his son: "No father is called upon to do that," said he to himself;
"none but a fool would do it."

Lord Colambre, perceiving his father's embarrassment, withdrew his
eyes, respectfully refrained from all further inquiries, and simply
repeated the assurance he had made to his mother, that he would put
his family to no additional expense; and that, if it was necessary, he
would willingly give up half his allowance.

"Not at all, not at all, my dear boy," said his father: "I would
rather cramp myself than that you should be cramped, a thousand times
over. But it is all my Lady Clonbrony's nonsense. If people would but,
as they ought, stay in their own country, live on their own estates,
and kill their own mutton, money need never be wanting."

For killing their own mutton, Lord Colambre did not see the
indispensable necessity; but he rejoiced to hear his father assert
that people should reside in their own country.

"Ay," cried Lord Clonbrony, to strengthen his assertion, as he
always thought it necessary to do, by quoting some other person's
opinion--"so Sir Terence O'Fay always says, and that's the reason your
mother can't endure poor Terry--You don't know Terry? No, you have
only seen him; but, indeed, to see him is to know him; for he is the
most off-hand, good fellow in Europe."

"I don't pretend to know him yet," said Lord Colambre. "I am not so