"Do you think so?" said Mr. Graydon, with a little surprise. "You see, we've known each other so long. Things and people change little in these out-of-the-way places." "I couldn't do it, if it was to save my life. Besides, the people where I come from wouldn't understand it." "Ah, I suppose not. We Irish are more of a large family--which is, perhaps, the reason why we wrangle sometimes." "I don't know how you recollect all their ailments, and the names and conditions of their families, and all the rest of it." "I am about through them so much. Your mother would understand. I daresay she plays the Lady Bountiful a good deal." The young man's lips parted over a range of beautifully white and strong teeth. "No," he said, a little grimly. "The mater isn't at all the district-visiting sort, I assure you, sir." With a feeling of having blundered, Mr. Graydon changed the subject. "I was glad to see your gun-case," he said. "There's any amount of game about here. The mountain yonder has no end of rabbits; and there's plenty of teal, woodcock, grouse, and partridge. Good fishing, too, in the Moyle--the sweetest salmon-trout that ever grilled over a clear fire; and a mile or two away there are big salmon for the taking." "Unpreserved?" cried the youth, with sparkling eyes. "Well, not very strictly preserved. That mountain yonder, Carrickduff, is part of my singularly unprofitable property, and the Moyle runs inside my walls." "If you don't keep me too close to work, sir, I foresee that I shall find Carrickmoyle a paradise." "There are worse places than Carrickmoyle," said Mr. Graydon, with a sparkle of pleasure in his eye. "Oh, I shan't overwork you. I believe in out-of-doors for young fellows. When I am busy--I daresay I shall be a little busy at times with a book which I have had in hand some years--the children will look after you." "You have children, then?" "Yes, three little girls. The eldest is, I'm afraid, becoming grown-up; but the others are quite children, and as wild as little hares." By this time they had passed the rickety gate and were approaching the house, the double doors of which stood hospitably open. Mr. Graydon drew up on the gravel-sweep opposite the door. "I must take Frisky round," he said, "and, meanwhile, will you go into the drawing-room? It is the first door on the left. I'll be back with you in a minute, as soon as I've found little Tim to take Frisky from me--likely as not he's playing marbles in the paddock." Sir Anthony did as he was directed. The big hall, when he had entered it, was full of sunlight, but otherwise bare as poverty. A big fireplace, where the brasses tarnished and the steel rusted; a great handsome box, intended for billets of wood, but now coldly empty; some dusty antlers and shields on the high wall--these were not cheerful.