I threw myself into an arm-chair, thankful for the privilege of resting myself, and glanced languidly around the spacious room. In any other mood I should have found a great deal to admire; but I was so vexed and amazed by my reception in the avenue, and so irritated by the imbecile behaviour of the footman, that I could think of nothing else. However, I had scarcely been seated a minute when my uncle came in. “How are you? how are you?” he cried, grasping my hand. “Delighted to see you and to welcome you. Why didn’t you let us know the train you came by? We would have saved you a scorching walk.” “I wish I had,” I answered; “that hill near the station has nearly been the death of me.” “Ay, that road in summer is awful. But a glass of seltzer and brandy will soon set you right,” and he rang the bell. “How did you leave them at Grove End?” he inquired. “They are all very well.” “They’re a happy family, aren’t they? It always does me good to spend a day or two with Tom. He has the very best nature in the world.” Here my fat friend entered. How the fool stared at me! I thought there must be something extraordinary in my appearance, and under that impression, got up, after he had left the room, and looked at myself in the glass. “Oh, don’t mind being a little sunburnt,” called out my uncle, who mistook my object. “I like men well tanned.” “Indeed,” said I, “I was looking to see what there could be in my face to cause your man to stare at me.” “Did he? Pray don’t mind him. He’s an Irishman and a faithful fellow, though not a smart waiter. I keep him for his wit, which is sometimes first-rate. He came to me with a high character out of Lord Lavender’s family. Every Hibernian must be forgiven something. You know what Burke said: ‘All Irishmen carry a bit of potato in their heads.’” Just then the man returned. He fixed his little black eyes on me as he handed me the foaming draught, and for the life of me I couldn’t help bursting into a laugh when, on quitting the room, he stared at me intently, whilst he slowly closed the door. “That has refreshed you, hasn’t it?” said my uncle. “Yes, thank you. By the way, I must ask you not to be surprised or shocked if you catch me drinking more brandy than may seem good for me whilst I am with you. I don’t possess my father’s iron nerves, and have a foreboding that I shall stand in need of strong stimulants to sustain me.” “What now, Charlie?” “Did you hear a shot fired about ten minutes ago?” “A what?” “A shot.” “No.” “My life has been attempted,” said I. “Where? When? By whom?” cried my uncle, staring at me. “In your avenue, and by a tall lady in a tight-fitting dress, whom I have strong reasons for suspecting to be your daughter.” His face relaxed, and he burst out into one of his stunning roars of laughter. “Tell me what the minx did?” he shouted.