Mr. Bolt faltered. He did not like this lady who pointed every question. "An act of civility, my dear madam. I am staying a few days in this enchanting vicinity and hearing of your benevolent character was persuaded to pay my best respects." "My benevolent character! You are collecting for a charity? You are proposing to hand me a tract?" "No, indeed no. My visit is connected with this world and not the next. I was informed in the village that this house was to let." "You were misinformed." "Furnished--to let furnished. Yes." This was a happy thought and he followed it up closely. "I should consider myself indeed fortunate if you, dear lady, would conduct me round its various apartments." "The house is not to let under any consideration." "Dear, dear! How disappointing." "So if that is your only object in calling----" Her hand went out toward the bell. "I pray you will allow me to remain a moment and recover my breath. The heat of the walk, you know. I am not as young as I was." "No one is," replied Mrs. Barraclough uncompromisingly. "How very, very true," said Mr. Bolt with outward benevolence but inwardly with a powerful inclination toward violence. "Yes, very true, although it is bitter indeed to be taunted with lack of youth. In the words of the Gospel 'do unto others as you would be done by.'" "In what particular part of the Gospel does that phrase occur?" demanded Mrs. Barraclough shrewdly. But Alfred Bolt was not a man to be caught out in the first over. "I can only recommend you a closer attention to the Book," he replied. "Search its pages yourself, dear lady, and treasures of gladness shall be yours." It was a nimble evasion and he could not resist a smile of self-satisfaction, but to avoid further interrogation on Biblical derivations he hastened to lead the conversation into safer alleys and ones more relative to the object of his visit. "I am informed in the village that you are the fortunate possessor of a son." "I have a son," Mrs. Barraclough admitted. "A priceless gift, dear lady. I should like to shake him by the hand." "Why?" Really this woman was too trying and the directness of the question for an instant deprived Mr. Bolt of his sense of character. Before he had time to collect his thoughts he had rapped out the reply: "Needn't jump down a man's throat like that." His effort to recover and mask this piece of startled irritability with a vague platitude did not deceive his audience in the smallest degree. Doubt became conviction in Mrs. Barraclough's mind. She did not know in what way this man was connected with her son's affairs but none the less she was certain he represented a positive barrier between Anthony and success. To denounce him as a spy might, however, do more harm than good, accordingly she took up the bell and rang it, with the words: