"What does this mean?" cried the old man. "Have you turned Socialist?" "I've turned nowt. But as a Christian man I warn you, Norman Gartram, that for all your fine house and your bags of money, and company and purple and fine linen, `the Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away.'" "You--" "There, I'm going to do my work honest, master, and earn my wages." "And blast that granite down with powder, sir." "I know my work," grumbled the man, and he backed out of the room without another word. Norman Gartram--the King of the Castle, as he was called at Danmouth-- stood listening to the man's footsteps, at first heavy and dull as they passed over the carpet, and then loud and echoing as he reached the granite paving outside, till they died away, and then, with his face still flushed, he laid his hand gently on his temples. "A little hot," he muttered. "A fit? Enough to give any man a fit to be spoken to like that by the canting scum. They're spoiled, that's what it is--spoiled. Claude is always fooling and petting them, and the more there is done for them the worse they work, and the more exacting they grow. I believe they think one's capital is to be sunk solely to benefit them. What the deuce do you want now?" This to the servant, who had timidly opened the door. "I beg your pardon, sir." "If it's some one from the quarry, tell him I'm engaged." "Mr Glyddyr, sir." "Why didn't you say so before? Where is he?" "In the drawing-room, sir." Norman Gartram sprung at once from his chair, hurriedly crossed the room, stepped out of the window on to the granite paving, which did duty in his garden for a gravel walk, carefully closed the French casement, and locked it with a small pass-key he carried in his pocket, and walked round to the verandah in front of the house, entering by the French window of the drawing-room, where a tall, handsome man of about thirty was leaning against a table, apparently admiring the brown leather shoes which formed part of his yachting costume. "Ah, Mr Glyddyr, glad to see you. Kept your word, then?" "Oh, yes; I always do that," said the visitor, shaking hands warmly. "Not come at an inconvenient time, have I--not too busy?" "Never too busy to receive friends," said Gartram. "Sit down, sit down." "Miss Gartram none the worse for her visit to the yacht?" "Oh, by no means; enjoyed it thoroughly." "I could see that little Miss Dillon did, but I thought Miss Gartram seemed rather bored." "Oh dear, no; nothing of the kind; but you'll have something?" "Eh? No, thanks. Too early." "A cigar?" "Cigar? Oh, come, I can't refuse that." "Come into my room, then. Obliged to obey the female tyranny of my household, Mr Glyddyr. I'm supposed to be master, but woman rules, sir, woman rules. My daughter does what she pleases with me." "Happy man!" "Eh?" "I say happy man, sir, to be ruled by such a queen." Norman Gartram gave him a keen look.