"Is it about me?" "Yes." "What's the matter, Mr. Lane? Is it anything serious?" "Very." "Nonsense!" said Claudia. "You really mustn't do it, Mr. Lane, or I can't stay for the cricket-match." "We shall be desolate. Stafford's going in a few days." But Claudia's face was entirely guileless as she replied: "Is he? I'm so sorry! But he's looking much stronger, isn't he?" With which she departed to join Sir Roderick, who had been spending the interval in extracting from Morewood an account of Stafford's behavior. "Hard hit, was he?" he concluded. "He looked it." "Wonder what he'll do! I'll give you five to four he asks her." "Done!" said Morewood; "in fives." CHAPTER VI. Father Stafford Keeps Vigil. Dinner that evening at the Manor was not a very brilliant affair. Stafford did not appear, pleading that it was a Friday, and a strict fast for him. Kate was distinctly out of temper, and treated the company in general, and Eugene in particular, with frigidity. Everybody felt that the situation was somewhat strained, and in consequence the pleasant flow of personal talk that marks parties of friends was dried up at its source. The discussion of general topics was found to be a relief. "The utter uselessness of such a class as Ayre represents," said Morewood emphatically, taking up a conversation that had started no one quite knew how, "must strike every sensible man." "At least they buy pictures," said Eugene. "On the contrary, they now sell old masters, and empty the pockets of would-be buyers." "They are very ornamental," remarked Claudia. "In some cases, undoubtedly," said Morewood. "If you mean a titled class," said Ayre, "I quite agree. I object to titles. They only confuse ranks. A sweep is made a lord, and outsiders think he's a gentlemen." "Come, you're a baronet yourself, you know," said Eugene. "It's true," admitted Ayre, with a sigh; "but it happened a long while ago, and we've nearly lived it down." "Take care they don't make you a peer!" "I have passed a busy life in avoiding it. After all, there's a chance. I'm not a brewer or a lawyer, or anything of that kind. But still, the fear of it has paralyzed my energies and compelled me to squander my fortune. They don't make poor men peers." "That ought to have been allowed to weigh in the balance in favor of Dives," suggested Eugene. "Not a bit," said Ayre. "Depend upon it, they kept it for him down below." "I hate cynicism!" said Claudia, suddenly and aggressively. Ayre put up his eyeglass. "_Après?_" "It's all affectation." "Really, Lady Claudia, you might be quite old, from the way you talk. That is one of the illusions of age, which, by the way, have not received enough attention." "That's very true," said Eugene. "Old people think the world better than it is because their faculties don't enable them to make such demands upon it." "My dear Eugene," said Mrs. Lane pertinently, "what can you know about it? As we grow old we grow charitable."