Griff, in a man's way, had not been wont to give an over-careful regard to the looks of those who were constantly about him. Something in his mother's tone, however, a certain touch of helplessness that was foreign to her character, set him scrutinizing her face. She seemed older and more worn, he thought, than when he first returned home, a year ago. "You don't look quite yourself, old lady," he said tenderly. "Let's spend the afternoon in the garden, under that ridiculous lilac-tree which thinks it can grow at the edge of a moor." "It is a very fine lilac, Griff," snapped Mrs. Lomax. "Ah, I thought the fight wasn't all dead in you. Well, I won't abuse the lilac, and I'll even drink your home-made wine without a murmur, if only you will promise to amuse me this afternoon. I'm lazy, mother; don't let us go for a walk." "Which means that you think _me_ feebler than I was. Oh, yes, you do! I saw it in your face as you looked at me just now. I have a good mind to show you what I can do when I choose." By way of answer Griff threaded his arm through hers, led her into the garden, and set her down by main force in the shady seat under the lilac-bushes. "I have good news for you, mother," he said, breaking a long pause. "About Kate?" flashed the old lady, with a woman's perspective, and a mother's half-resentful pride where a grandchild is in question. But Griff missed her point utterly. "No; what good news could I bring of her except that she is just as much Kate as ever? It is about Laverack; you remember telling me father's relations with him?" "Yes, I remember well. Only--it is not a topic that pleases me, Griff." "Not if I tell you that I met him this morning, and made myself known to him, and called him a cad to his face?" Her keen old eyes brightened. "You did that, Griff? Yes, it _is_ good news. It may be unchristian, but I loathe that man. And if one is framed to love well, how can one help hating with a will, too?" "Mother, mother, I despair of you! You're a dreadful Pagan, like the rest of us," laughed the son, anxious to glance off to other topics, now that he had conveyed his piece of information. "Well, your father was a Pagan, right through to the core of him. I have had worse examples to follow, Griff." "Did you object to his poaching, I wonder?" said Griff, teasingly. "After he was married, I mean." "That, rude boy, is a question I don't choose to answer. It is unwise, though, they say, to deny a man his luxuries; but the pursuit is a discreditable one at best." "I've done with it, at any rate." An impatient half-sigh accompanied the words. "I am glad of it." "But, mother, you have no idea of the glorious rough-and-tumbles we used to have. Kate, though, has made me promise to keep a whole skin, and there's an end of it. Heigho! I'm glad the Squire and I made a decent finish to my career in that line." A rattling of the garden gate came to them round the corner of the house.