Lady Augusta laughed; she supposed it was spoken in jest; and desired her son to open the door for her. Her gloves were new and delicate. “Had you chosen to remain at the dinner-table, as a gentleman ought, I should have told you some news, Mr. Roland,” said Lady Augusta. Roland was always ready for news. He opened his eyes and ears. “Tell it me now, good mother. Don’t bear malice.” “Your uncle Carrick is coming here on a visit.” “I am glad of that; that’s good!” cried Roland. “When does he come? I say, mother, don’t be in a hurry! When does he come?” But Lady Augusta apparently was in a hurry, for she did not wait to reply. Roland looked after her, and saw her shaking hands with a gentleman, who was about to enter. “Oh, he’s back, is he!” cried unceremonious Roland. “I thought he was dead and buried, and gone to heaven.” CHAPTER XXXIII. -- NO SENIORSHIP FOR TOM CHANNING. Shaking hands with Lady Augusta Yorke as she turned out of Mr. Galloway’s office, was Mr. Huntley. He had only just arrived at Helstonleigh; had not yet been home; but he explained that he wished to give at once a word of pleasant news to Constance Channing of her father and mother, and, on his way to the Boundaries, was calling on Mr. Galloway. “You will find Miss Channing at my house,” said Lady Augusta, after some warm inquiries touching Mr. and Mrs. Channing. “I would offer to go back there with you, but I am on my way to make some calls.” She turned towards the town as she spoke, and Mr. Huntley entered the office. “I thought you were never coming home again!” cried free Roland. “Why, you have been away three months, Mr. Huntley!” “Very nearly. Where is Mr. Galloway?” “In his skin,” said Roland. Jenkins looked up deprecatingly, as if he would apologize for the rudeness of Roland Yorke. “Mr. Galloway is out, sir. I dare say he will not be away more than half an hour.” “I cannot wait now,” said Mr. Huntley. “So you are one less in this office than you were when I left?” “The awfullest shame!” struck in Roland. “Have you heard that Galloway lost a bank-note out of a letter, sir?” “Yes. I have heard of it from Mr. Channing.” “And they accused Arthur Channing of taking it!” exclaimed Roland. “They took him up for it; he was had up twice to the town-hall, like any felon. You may be slow to believe it, Mr. Huntley, but it’s true.” “It was Butterby, sir,” interposed Jenkins. “He was rather too officious over it, and acted without Mr. Galloway’s orders.” “Don’t talk rubbish, Jenkins,” rebuked Roland. “You have defended Galloway all through the piece, but he is as much to blame as Butterby. Why did he turn off Channing?” “You do not think him guilty, Roland, I see,” said Mr. Huntley. “I should hope I don’t,” answered Roland. “Butterby pitched upon Arthur, because there happened to be nobody else at hand to pitch upon; just as he’d have pitched upon you, Mr. Huntley, had you happened to be in the office that afternoon.”