They took their seats in the cash-office, within the counter, to be seen by all, and see everything that went forward. If Davenport Dunn regarded the scene with a calm and unmoved indifference, his attention being, in fact, more engrossed by his newspaper than by what went on around, Lord Glengariff's quick eye and ear were engaged incessantly. He scanned the appearance of each new applicant as he came up to the table; he listened to his demand, noted its amount, and watched with piercing glance what effect it might produce on the cashier. Nor was he an unmoved spectator of the scene; for while he simply contented himself with an angry stare at the frieze-coated peasant, he actually scowled an insolent defiance when any of higher rank or more pretentious exterior presented himself, muttering in broken accents beneath his breath, “Too bad, too bad!” “Gross ingratitude!” “A perfect disgrace!” and so on. He was at the very climax of his indignation, when a voice from the crowd addressed him with “How d' ye do, my Lord? I was not aware you were in this part of the country.” He put up his double eyeglass, and speedily recognized the Mr. Barnard whom Dunn mentioned as so unworthily requiting all he had done for him. “No, sir,” said the Earl, haughtily; “and just as little did I expect to see you here on such an errand as this. In _my_ day, country gentlemen were the first to give the example of trust and confidence, and not foremost in propagating unworthy apprehensions.” “I'm not a partner in the Bank, my Lord, and know nothing of its solvency,” said the other, as he handed in two checks over the counter. “Eight thousand six hundred and forty-eight. Three thousand, twelve, nine, six,” said the clerk, mechanically. “How will you have it, sir?” “Bank of Ireland notes will do.” Dunn lifted his eyes from the paper, and then, raising his hat, saluted Mr. Barnard. “I trust you left Mrs. Barnard well?” said he, in a calm voice. “Yes, thank you--well--quite well,” said Barnard, in some confusion. “Will you remember to tell her that she shall have the acorns of the Italian pines next week? I have heard of their arrival at the Custom-house.” While Barnard muttered a very confused expression of thanks, the old Earl looked from one to the other of the speakers in a sort of bewilderment. Where was the angry indignation he had looked for from Dunn,--where the haughty denunciation of a black ingratitude? “Why, Dunn, I say,” whispered he, “isn't this Barnard the fellow you spoke of,--the man you returned to Parliament t' other day?” “The same, my Lord,” replied Dunn, in a low, cautious voice. “He is here exacting a right,--a just right,--and no more. It is not now, nor in this place, that I would remind him how ungraciously he has treated me. This day is _his_. _Mine_ will come yet.”