"I dare say!" laughed the Captain. "The old ones always think the young ones have a lot to learn--and they have, sir, they have! But it's of another sort than we can teach them, I reckon." He pushed back his chair. "We'll smoke on the piazza, sir--the ladies don't object." As they passed out, a visitor was just ascending the steps. Miss Carrington gave a smothered exclamation and went forward. "How do you do, Miss Erskine!" she said. "How do you do, my dear!" returned Miss Erskine, "and Mrs. Carrington--and the dear Captain, too.--I'm charmed to find you all at home." She spoke with an affected drawl that would have been amusing in a handsome woman, but was absurdly ridiculous in one with her figure and unattractive face. She turned expectantly toward Croyden, and Miss Carrington presented him. "So this is the new owner of Clarendon," she gurgled with an 'a' so broad it impeded her speech. "You have kept us waiting a long time, Mr. Croyden. We began to think you a myth." "I'm afraid you will find me a very husky myth," Croyden answered. "'Husky' is scarcely the correct word, Mr. Croyden; _animated_ would be better, I think. We scholars, you know, do not like to hear a word used in a perverted sense." She waddled to a chair and settled into it. Croyden shot an amused glance toward Miss Carrington, and received one in reply. "No, I suppose not," he said, amiably. "But, then, you know, I am not a scholar." Miss Erskine smiled in a superior sort of way. "Very few of us are properly careful of our mode of speech," she answered. "And, oh! Mr. Croyden, I hope you intend to open Clarendon, so as to afford those of us who care for such things, the pleasure of studying the pictures, and the china, and the furniture. I am told it contains a Stuart and a Peale--and they should not be hidden from those who can appreciate them." "I assume you're talking of pictures," said Croyden. "I am, sir,--most assuredly!" the dame answered. "Well, I must confess ignorance, again," he replied. "I wouldn't know a Stuart from a--chromo." Miss Erskine gave a little shriek of horror. "I do not believe it, Mr. Croyden!--you're playing on my credulity. I shall have to give you some instructions. I will lecture on Stuart and Peale, and the painters of their period, for your especial delectation--and soon, very soon!" "I'm afraid it would all be wasted," said Croyden. "I'm not fond of art, I confess--except on the commercial side; and if I've any pictures, at Clarendon, worth money, I'll be for selling them." "Oh! Mrs. Carrington! Will you listen--did you ever hear such heresy?" she exclaimed. "I can't believe it of you, Mr. Croyden. Let me lend you an article on Stuart to read. I shall bring it out to Clarendon to-morrow morning--and you can let me look at all the dear treasures, while you peruse it." "Mr. Croyden has an appointment with me to-morrow, Amelia," said Carrington, quickly--and Croyden gave him a look of gratitude.