"Yes! wait and see," laughed Sir Geoffrey; "Goodbye, little one! Next time, I suppose, daddy will have put my nose out of joint, and you won't have anything to say to me--eh?" She grew crimson to her ear-tips. "Never! never! never!" she cried, stamping her foot wilfully; "we's goin' to live together for everan'everan'--aye!" The bystanders laughed at her sudden passion, and Sir Geoffrey's thin, ruddy face actually flushed a still deeper red. "All right, little lady," he said half-sheepishly. "Never you fear! I'll keep my promise for ever an' never an'-naye!" CHAPTER VI The London footman was rolling out the dressing-gong as if he had been apprenticed to a bronze, when Ned Blackborough returned from his sick friend at the Seaview Hotel; but he took no heed to its warning, and turning down a side passage sought a room in the older part of the house where, as a rule, his uncle was to be found. And sure enough, there he was, seated at his so-called writing-table, and turning round a trifle startled, pen in hand, at the sound of the opening door. But Ned's quick eye detected neither paper nor ink. The pen, then, was a mere shelter against the unlooked-for visitor. It was a quaint room, full from floor to ceiling of the man and his immediate forbears, that succession of Sir Richards and Sir Geoffreys who had inherited the ever-lessening estate of Pentreath for the last two hundred years. Fishing-rods, guns, hunting-horns, and dueling-pistols testified to their amusements, a tin box labelled "Pentreath Estate Records," to their occupation, and a complete set of the _Annual Register_ and _Gentleman's Magazine_ to their literary tastes. There was a weighing-machine also, and in a glass case the sword presented to the then Sir Richard by Prince Charlie; for the Pentreaths were always on the losing side in everything. Yet they had always held their heads high in the past. But now Sir Geoffrey's haggard face looked as if it had been seeking refuge in the hands, one of which he held out in kindly greeting. "So it's you, Ned!--like old times. I'm glad to see you back again, my boy." "And I'm glad to be back, sir," he replied, paused, and then feeling there was no good in beating about the bush, made a plunge. "I've got something to say to you, sir. We are leaving to-morrow morning, and I may not have another opportunity----" he paused again. "Not much time before dinner," said Sir Geoffrey, consulting his watch. "But fire away. Going to get married?--eh?" "Perhaps," said Ned coolly, "but this is about the hotel." "Damn the hotel! What's up now?" Never was curse more heartily or more hopelessly given. "Well--go on." "I don't know who is responsible for installing the electric light, but it isn't safe. The wires are always fusing. They keep it very dark, but my friend--who is a bit of an electrical engineer himself--found out when he was awake last night----"