"Good-bye," repeated Sir Anthony, turning away. Several times as he went homeward Lord Glengall stooped to pat the shaggy coat of the terrier who still trotted by him. [Illustration: Pointing with his foot to the little heap of trinkets.] "You don't know poetry, old fellow," he said once aloud, "but there was a poet named Shakespeare who wrote something about people coming back 'to push us from our stools.' I am not good at remembering poetry; but that young gentleman we have just left has come back to push us from our stools--to push us from our stools." The dog, as if he understood, thrust a sympathetic nose into his companion's hand. When Lord Glengall reached Carrickmoyle, he went straight to Mr. Graydon's room. Mary was sitting by her father, stitching a piece of fine white stuff in the twilight. "Ah! Glengall," said the invalid briskly. "Have you come in to smoke a last pipe with me? Come and tell me what prices were like at the fair to-day. Run away, Molly child, and rest your eyes, and let Glengall have your seat." The two men lit up soberly, and smoked away for a while, discussing prices and cattle and crops in a desultory fashion. At last Lord Glengall knocked out the ashes from his stumpy clay against the top bar of the grate, and stuffed the pipe into his pocket. "I wanted to talk to you about Pam, Graydon," he said. "What about Pam?" "Only that I did the child an injustice in wanting to marry her. I am too old." "Does Pam say this? Are you speaking for her?" "Poor little Pam! There were some love-passages, Graydon, between her and your pupil Trevithick." "I guessed as much, but how far the thing went I have no idea. I don't believe in probing into those things, Glengall. It is better to let them die." "Had you any idea that the young fellow might possibly ask for her?" "I hoped so once, not because it would be a good marriage for Pam, or anything of that sort, but because I thought him a good lad, and I believed in his father's son. I was disappointed that he turned out so different from my expectations." "Would you be surprised to hear that he wrote to you about Pam immediately after he left, and that his mother intercepted the letter?" "His mother!" "Yes; she had other views for him." "I wonder why she came here, why she troubled our peace, and forced her hospitality on Pam, who didn't want it?" said Mr. Graydon musingly. "To make a parting between the lad and Pam more certain. She told Pam he was engaged to his cousin; and in other ways made the child's visit miserable." "My poor Pam! I remember she hated to go." "I am sorry the boy has such a mother." "Yet I remember her a very noble-looking girl. I don't think she was made for mean things." "Ah! well, we can let her be. She is sufficiently punished, poor woman, by her son's scorn. That must be a terrible thing to endure." "And she is a proud woman."