SQUIRE (heartily).--"Shake hands again on it, my boy. You don't want a friend, since my grandee of a half-brother has taken you up; but if ever you should, Hazeldean is not very far from Rood. Can't get on with your father at all, my lad--more's the pity, for I think I could have given him a hint or two as to the improvement of his property. If he would plant those ugly commons--larch and fir soon come into profit, sir; and there are some low lands about Rood that would take mighty kindly to draining." RANDAL.--"My poor father lives a life so retired, and you can not wonder at it. Fallen trees lie still, and so do fallen families." SQUIRE.--"Fallen families can get up again, which fallen trees can't." RANDAL.--"Ah, sir, it often takes the energy of generations to repair the thriftlessness and extravagance of a single owner." SQUIRE (his brow lowering).--"That's very true. Frank is d----d extravagant; treats me very coolly, too--not coming, near three o'clock. By-the-by, I suppose he told you where I was, otherwise how did you find me out?" RANDAL (reluctantly).--"Sir, he did; and, to speak frankly, I am not surprised that he has not yet appeared." SQUIRE.--"Eh?" RANDAL.--"We have grown very intimate." SQUIRE.--"So he writes me word--and I am glad of it. Our member, Sir John, tells me you are a very clever fellow, and a very steady one. And Frank says that he wishes he had your prudence, if he can't have your talents. He has a good heart, Frank," added the father, relentingly. "But, zounds, sir, you say you are not surprised he has not come to welcome his own father!" "My dear sir," said Randal, "you wrote word to Frank that you had heard from Sir John and others, of his goings-on, and that you were not satisfied with his replies to your letters." "Well." "And then you suddenly come up to town." "Well." "Well. And Frank is ashamed to meet you. For, as you say, he has been extravagant, and he has exceeded his allowance; and, knowing my respect for you, and my great affection for himself, he has asked me to prepare you to receive his confession and forgive him. I know I am taking a great liberty. I have no right to interfere between father and son; but pray--pray think I mean for the best." "Humph!" said the Squire, recovering himself very slowly, and showing evident pain. "I knew already that Frank had spent more than he ought; but I think he should not have employed a third person, to prepare me to forgive him. (Excuse me--no offense.) And if he wanted a third person, was not there his own mother? What the devil!--(firing up)--am I a tyrant--a bashaw--that my own son is afraid to speak to me? Gad, I'll give it him?"