“It's the men he'll have to look out for,” Hutchinson put in, with an experienced air. “There's them that'll want to borrow money, and them that'll want to drink and play cards and bet high. A green American lad'll be a fine pigeon for them to pluck. You may as well tell him, Ann; you know you came here to do it.” “Yes, I did,” she admitted. “I don't want you to seem not to know what people are up to and what they expect.” That little note of involuntary defense was a dangerous thing for Tembarom. He drew nearer. “You don't want them to take me for a fool, Little Ann. You're standing up for me; that's it.” “You can stand up for yourself, Mr. Temple Barholm, if you're not taken by surprise,” she said confidently. “If you understand things a bit, you won't be.” His feelings almost overpowered him. “God bless your dear little soul!” he broke out. “Say, if this goes on, that dog of your grandmother's wouldn't have a show, Ann. I should bite him before he could bite me.” “I won't go on if you can't be sensible, Mr. Temple Barholm. I shall just go away and not come back again. That's what I shall do.” Her tone was that of a young mother. He gave in incontinently. “Good Lord! no!” he exclaimed. “I'll do anything if you'll stay. I'll lie down on the mat and not open my mouth. Just sit here and tell me things. I know you won't let me hold your hand, but just let me hold a bit of your dress and look at you while you talk.” He took a bit of her brown frock between his fingers and held it, gazing at her with all his crude young soul in his eyes. “Now tell me,” he added. “There's only one or two things about the people who'll come to Temple Barholm. Grandmother's talked it over with me. She knew all about those that came in the late Mr. Temple Barholm's time. He used to hate most of them.” “Then why in thunder did he ask them to come?” “He didn't. They've got clever, polite ways of asking themselves sometimes. He couldn't bear the Countess of Mallowe. She'll come. Grandmother says you may be sure of that.” “What'll she come for?” Little Ann's pause and contemplation of him were fraught with thoughtfulness. “She'll come for you,” at last she said. “She's got a daughter she thinks ought to have been married eight years ago,” announced Hutchinson. Tembarom pulled at the bit of brown tweed he held as though it were a drowning man's straw. “Don't you drive me to drink, Ann,” he said. “I'm frightened. Your grandmother will have to lend ME the dog.” This was a flightiness which Little Ann did not encourage. “Lady Joan--that's her daughter--is very grand and haughty. She's a great beauty. You'll look at her, but perhaps she won't look at you. But it's not her I'm troubled about. I'm thinking of Captain Palliser and men like him.” “Who's he?” “He's one of those smooth, clever ones that's always getting up some company or other and selling the stock. He'll want you to know his friends and he'll try to lead you his way.”