“Ah, ’e always knew them that were really fond of ’im,” said Miss Hewitt. “You couldn’t blind ’im, my lord, with pretences. I was kep’ back by my family, and thoughts of what the world might say; but ’e knew that Patty was the same stuff like, and ’e took to her the double of what ’e would have done on that account. Oh, your lordship, what a man ’e was! You’re too young to remember ’im at ’is best: ’andsome is as ’andsome does, folk say--but a gentleman like ’im can’t always act as ’e would like to. You must know that from yourself, my lord. Sometimes the ’eart don’t go where the ’and ’as to be given.” “Well, that is certainly sometimes the case,” said Lord Hartmore, with a subdued laugh, “though I don’t think I know it by myself.” “Aunt’s so full of her old times,” cried Patty. “If there was anything that was ever wanted for the little Osborne boy, Lord Hartmore, I should always be pleased to help. He got too much for my dear father-in-law latterly, being noisy, and such a spoiled little thing; but he was fond of him, and spoke of him at the very last.” “I can never forget that,” said Patty, putting her handkerchief lightly to her eyes. “And if there should be need of a little help for his education, or setting him out in life--but I should have a delicacy in saying so to Margaret Osborne, unless you’d be so good as to do it for me.” “Oh, you’re very kind, Mrs. Piercey,” said Lord Hartmore, confused. “Our dear Meg is rather a formidable person to approach with such a proposal.” “Yes, isn’t she formidable?” cried Patty, eagerly. “That’s just the word; one is frightened to offer to do her a good turn.” “Let us hope,” said Lord Hartmore, “that her good uncle has left her beyond the need of help.” “Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Patty, with a very serious face. “I feel sure of it,” said Lord Hartmore, with genial confidence. “He was far too good a man, and too kind an uncle. Mrs. Piercey, I see my friend Gerald looking this way, and Mr. Pownceby wriggling in his chair, as if----” He made a slight movement as if to rise--which perhaps was not the highest breeding in Lord Hartmore; but it was very slight and accompanied by a look of deference, suggesting a signal on her part. “Mr. Gerald Piercey is not master here, nor is Mr. Pownceby,” said Patty, with dignity. “They may look as they please, but in my own house it’s my part to say when people are to leave the table.” “She do have a spirit, Patty does,” Miss Hewitt murmured under her breath. Lord Hartmore settled himself in his chair again, abashed. “I beg your pardon,” he said; and then, in a subdued tone, “Most likely Pownceby has a train to catch.” “In that case I don’t mind stretching a point,” said the lady of the house, “though Mr. Pownceby is no more than a hired servant paid for his time, and it is no business of his to interfere.”