The breakfast went on. Mr Elthorne placed a pair of spring folding glasses on his well-cut aquiline nose, and took up and frowned at a letter. "When's Neil coming down?" "He did not say, papa. He writes that poor Maria causes him a great deal of anxiety." "Poor Maria? I think she ought to be very glad and grateful. It is wonderful what is done for the poor in this country. Here is this girl, taken up to London free of expense, placed in a magnificent institution, and receives the attention of such an eminent man as--hah, not a bad cup of tea,"--a long breath drawn after a hearty draught--"as Sir Denton Hayle, without counting that of Neil. Is your aunt coming down to breakfast, or is she not?" "She will be down soon, papa. She--she rather overslept herself." "Rubbish! Idleness! Pure idleness! She knows how I hate to see an empty chair at the table. Professes to keep house, and is never in her place at proper time. Keep house, indeed! Eggs like leaden bullets; toasts and kidneys like leather; tea half cold and not fit to drink; and--" "Now, papa, dear, you said just now that it was not a bad cup of tea." "Eh? Did I? Humph--a _lapsus linguae_," said Mr Elthorne with a grim smile, for his breakfast was softening down his asperities. "Alison, ring that bell." The young man rose slowly and straddled to the fireplace after the fashion of men who are a good deal in the saddle, rang, and came back to the table. "Been in the stables this morning, Al?" "Yes." "How did The Don look?" "Oh, right enough, but I don't like him any better, sir." "Prejudice, Al, prejudice. Because I let someone else choose him instead of you. Wants an older man to judge a horse." "Dare say it does, sir. But I would not have given a hundred pounds for The Don--nor yet thirty," added the young man _sotto voce_. "Bah! Prejudice, boy. Sound wind and limb; well bred." "Granted, sir. He is all that you say, but he has a temper. You wanted a quieter animal--a nice weight-bearing, steady cob." "Indeed!" said Mr Elthorne, sarcastically, "or a donkey. I'm growing so old and feeble." "You rang, sir," said the quiet, staid looking butler. "Yes; send one of the maids up to ask Mrs Barnett--humph! Never mind." The butler held open the door for a rather stout, florid looking, middle-aged lady to enter, which she did in a hurried, bustling way, pressing her _pince-nez_ on to her nose. "Good-morning!" she exclaimed. "I am so sorry, Ralph. I hope I have not kept you waiting." "Oh, dear, no," began Mr Elthorne. "Oh, hang it all, Anne, do mind," he continued, as there was a click caused by the encountering of two pairs of spectacles, as the lady kissed him, and then bustled on to salute Alison with a similar kiss to that bestowed upon his father. "Morning, my dear. Good-morning once more, Isabel, my dear." "And how are you now you have come?" said Mr Elthorne gruffly.