"That's young to manage a farm, child. But _you've_ had good training; you had an industrious mother"--indicating an old lady on the lawn in a big lace cap and green gown. "I can tell you what--when I let Frank Radcliffe have the lease, I took into consideration that you were coming here as well as he. Why!--who are these?" Two stylish-looking fellows were dashing up in a dog-cart; pipes in their mouths, and portmanteaus behind them. Shouting and calling indiscriminately about for Frank Radcliffe; for a man to take the horse and vehicle, that they had contrived to charter at the railway terminus; for a glass of bitter beer apiece, for they were confoundedly dry--there was no end of a commotion. They were the two visitors from London, Briarly and Pratt. Their tones moderated somewhat when they saw the company. Frank came out; and received a noisy greeting that might have been heard at York. One of them trod on Mr. Brandon's corns as he went in through the porch. Annet looked half frightened. "Come to stay here!--gentlemen from London!--Frank's former friends!" repeated old Brandon, listening to her explanation. "Fine friends, I should say! Frank Radcliffe,"--laying hold of him as he was coming back from giving directions to his servant--"how came you to bring those men down into your home?" "They came of their own accord, Mr. Brandon." "Friends of yours, I hear?" "Yes, I knew them in the old days." "Oh. Well--_I_ should not like to go shouting and thundering up to a decent house with more aboard me than I could carry. Those men have both been drinking." Frank was looking frightfully mortified. "I am afraid they have," he said. "The heat of the day and the dust on the journey must have caused them to take more than they were aware of. I'm very sorry. I assure you, Mr. Brandon, they are really quiet, good fellows." "May be. But the sooner you see their backs turned, the better, young man." From that day, the trouble set in. Will it be believed that Frank Radcliffe, after keeping himself straight for ever so much more than a year, fell away again? Those two visitors must have found their quarters at Pitchley's Farm agreeable, for they stayed on and on, and made no sign of going away. They were drinkers, hard and fast. They drank, themselves, and they seduced Frank to drink--though perhaps he did not require much seduction. Frank's ale was poured out like water. Dozens of port, ordered and paid for by Briarly, arrived from the wine-merchant's; Pratt procured cases of brandy. From morning till night liquor was under poor Frank's nose, tempting him to sin. _Their_ heads might be strong enough to stand the potions; Frank's was not. It was June when the new life set in; and on the first of September, when all three staggered in from a day's shooting, Frank was in a fever and curiously trembling from head to foot. By the end of the week he was strapped down in his bed, a raving madman; Duffham attending him, and two men keeping guard.