“Not you, Adrian,” said Nance with a smile. “But he will, though,” said Murray; “you don’t know him yet, auntie; I don’t know anyone who can be so, so——” “So what?” said Rowton. “Come here this minute, lad, and give your aunt an account of me; she won’t believe what I say of myself, but you have known me for years.” “Not so many years,” said Murray. “I am only eleven, and that is quite young, isn’t it?” “Well, speak, tell your aunt what you think of me.” The boy left his seat by Nancy’s side, went up to Rowton and leant against his knee. “You have a bold face, young ’un,” said the man, chucking him under the chin; “speak out, you are not afraid, are you?” “Afraid,” said the lad proudly, tossing back his head. “I don’t know what that means.” “That is right; you are a gay little bantam. Now tell that beautiful lady whom you have been impertinent enough to fall in love with exactly what you think of me, her husband.” “You know what I think of you,” said Murray, giving the man a very keen and intense glance. Something in his gaze, fixed and full as it was, caused Rowton to lower his own bold eyes. He caught the boy’s little wrist with a grip of iron, and turned him fiercely round. “Tell your aunt what you think of me, Murray,” he said. “I think you are a very fine man—yes, auntie, he is a very fine man indeed, very brave; about the bravest man in the world, I should say, but——” “No ‘buts,’ young sir, out with everything.” “Then I will tell the truth,” said Murray; “you are not good in one way.” “Ha! ha! Nancy,” said her husband, “listen with all your ears now; this youngster is about to lift the curtain and show you the sort of man you have deigned to marry.” “Perhaps you can make him good all round,” said the boy, suddenly fixing his bright eyes on Nancy’s soft face; “he is not good all round now—he is not good to _my mother_.” The boy stepped back two or three inches, and flung back his beautiful noble head. “Silence, this moment, sir,” said Rowton. His voice rose; it seemed to fill the big room. “Leave the room, Murray,” he said. “You have transgressed your limits; you have a certain tether and you have gone beyond it; leave the room.” “I will, but I am not frightened,” said the boy. He still stood upright with his head flung back, but Nancy saw that his delicate lips were trembling. “You are cruel to my mother, Uncle Adrian, and when I think of it, I—I _hate_ you.” He turned then and marched proudly away. It seemed a long time to the listeners up at the warmly-lighted part of the room, until they heard the last echo of his little footsteps, and the banging of the door in the dim distance as he walked away; then they both looked one at the other. Nancy’s face was white and troubled; tears were in her eyes; Adrian was looking full at her. “That little turkey cock must be quieted,” he said; “he takes too much on him; you are not to spoil him, Nancy, do you hear?”