“Ned Skene,” said Lord Worthington, taking her to mean the man below. “He has done so well in the colonies that he has indulged himself and his family with a trip to England. His arrival made quite a sensation in this country: last week he had a crowded benefit, at which he sparred with our mutual friend and knocked him about like a baby. Our mutual behaved very well on the occasion in letting himself be knocked about. You see he could have killed old Skene if he had tried in earnest.” “Is that Skene?” said Lydia, looking at him with an earnest interest that astonished Lord Worthington. “Ah! Now I recognize the man with him. He is one of my tenants at the Warren Lodge--I believe I am indebted to you for the introduction.” “Mellish the trainer?” said Lord Worthington, looking a little foolish. “So it is. What a lovely bay that lancer has!--the second from the far end.” But Lydia would not look at the lancer’s horse. “Paradise!” she heard Skene exclaim just then with scornful incredulity. “Ain’t it likely?” It occurred to her that if he was alluding to his own chance of arriving there, it was not likely. “Less likely things have happened,” said Mellish. “I won’t say that Cashel Byron is getting stale; but I will say that his luck is too good to last; and I know for a fact that he’s gone quite melancholy of late.” “Melancholy be blowed!” said Skene. “What should he go melancholy for?” “Oh, _I_ know,” said Mellish, reticently. “You know a lot,” retorted Skene with contempt. “I s’pose you mean the young ‘oman he’s always talking to my missis about.” “I mean a young woman that he ain’t likely to get. One of the biggest swells in England--a little un with a face like the inside of a oyster-shell, that he met down at Wiltstoken, where I trained him to fight the Flying Dutchman. He went right off his training after he met her--wouldn’t do anything I told him. I made so cock-sure that he’d be licked that I hedged every penny I had laid on him except twenty pound that I got a flat to bet agin him down at the fight after I had changed my mind. Curse that woman! I lost a hundred pound by her.” “And served you right, too, you old stupid. You was wrong then; and you’re wrong now, with your blessed Paradise.” “Paradise has never been licked yet.” “No more has my boy.” “Well, we’ll see.” “We’ll see! I tell you I’ve seed for myself. I’ve seed Billy Paradise spar; and it ain’t fighting, it’s ruffianing: that’s what it is. Ruffianing! Why, my old missis has more science.”