"Oh, the odious man who carried on so shamefully with that rich woman,--the grocer's widow!" said the old lady. "Well, wasn't it a grocer?--merchant, then, if you like,--something to do with the City and the West Indies, I know. Oh, a dreadful person!" "Charley Beresford's not a bad fellow, though," said Lyster. "Who did Sir Marmaduke say the other man was? Professor something." "Perhaps Major Stone knows him," chimed in Mrs. Townshend. "Who's the Professor that's coming down, Stone?" asked Lyster. "I _don't_ know. I only know two professors: Jackman the conjuror,--Jacquinto he calls himself,--and Holloway the ointment-man; and it's neither of them. This is some scientific or literary great gun that Sir Marmaduke was introduced to lately." "Oh, dear!" said Barbara, plaintively, "what a dreadful idea! Probably an old gentleman, with gold spectacles and a bald head, covered all over with the dust of the British Museum, and carrying dead beetles and things in his pockets!" "A professor!" said Miss Townshend; "we had one at Gimp House--a French one! I'm sure he'll take snuff and have silk pocket-handkerchiefs." "And choke at his meals," added Barbara. "This is too horrible." "I trust he won't come from any low neighbourhood," said Mrs. Vincent; "the small-pox is very bad in some districts in London." "The deuce! I hope he won't bring it down here," drawled Lyster. "There's not the slightest fear of infection, if you've been vaccinated," said Mr. Townshend. "Oh, but I haven't," replied Lyster. "I wouldn't be--at least without chloroform; it hurts one so." "What nonsense, Captain Lyster!" laughed Barbara. "Why, I was vaccinated, and it didn't hurt me the least." "Did it hurt as much as sitting for your photograph?" asked the Captain, rising. "Because I'll never sit for my photograph again, except under chloroform." "Well, small-pox or not, you'll see the old gentleman at dinner," said Stone; "and you mustn't chaff him, mind, Lyster; for he's a favourite of Sir Marmaduke's." And so the luncheon-party broke up. Old Miss Lexden and Miss Townshend drove out in a pony-phaeton, with the intention of falling in with the shooting party; Mrs. Vincent retired to her room, to allow the process of digestion to take place during her afternoon nap; Mr. Vincent walked leisurely across the fields to the neighbouring village, and had an interview with a fisherman's wife, who had a new method of dressing mackerel; Mr. Townshend took out a pamphlet on the Bank Charter, and, having placed it before him, went straight off to sleep; Major Stone mounted his sure-footed cob and rode round the farm, looking after broken fences, and dropping hints as to the expediency of all being ready with the Michaelmas rent; and Barbara and Captain Lyster wandered into the Paddock, with the intention of playing croquet. But they had played only very few strokes, when Lyster, leaning on his mallet, looked across at his companion, and said gravely,