"I'm glad of it, very glad," he snarled. "I told you so; and now you may pack up and be off, for I'm sick of you, and want to see your back." "But I'm not going," said Geoffrey, coolly. "I wouldn't move for the world. You do me so much good." "I do you good, puppy?" "To be sure you do. I get as bilious and acid, and put out with my ill-luck as can be, and then I come and take a dose of you, and it seems to put me right again." "You're--you're the most insolent, cool, impertinent puppy I ever met?" cried the old man; "and--and I wish you all the ill-luck you can get." "Thanky," said Geoffrey. "Well, good-by for the present. I'm going to take a walk down to the Cove." "Of course," snarled Uncle Paul. "Hi! here. Madge! Madge!" "Yes, uncle," she cried, running eagerly out of the porch, and across the grass-plot. "Yes, uncle," he snarled. "You jade. You were listening, and waiting for a chance for another look, or a word, with this puppy here." "Oh, uncle!" cried the girl, colouring up, for the old man had guessed the truth. "Pray don't protest, my dear Miss Mullion," said Geoffrey, coolly. "Say you were. There's no harm in it." "Harm in it?" cried the old man, fiercely, "harm? Why, you don't suppose I'm going to let you, a mining adventurer, flirt and play tricks with my brother's child, and then go off and never come back?" "Youth is the time for folly, Mr Paul." "Yes; but there shall be no follies here, sir. Look here, Madge, this fellow's not to be trusted. He's always going over to the Cove, to make eyes at handsome Bess Prawle; so don't you listen to him." Madge looked at Geoffrey inquiringly. "It's quite true, Miss Mullion," said Geoffrey, bowing assent to the old man's words, "I am going over to the Cove; and I dare say I shall see Miss Prawle the pretty. By the way, Mr Paul, are women any the better for being pretty?" "You--you impudent jackanapes! You, you--There, ha, ha, ha! Look at her!" he cried, chuckling at the effect of his words. "She's run indoors in a huff, and she'll cry as soon as you're gone." "Then I hope you feel happy, sir?" "I do," said the old man, rubbing the ivory top of his cane. "Look here, boy, do you mean any thing by being so civil to that girl?" "What girl, sir?" "Don't aggravate me, boy. Her--Madge--that smooth-faced, good-looking cat." "I don't mean any thing but to be civil." "Not marriage?" "Well, seeing that I can barely keep myself," said Geoffrey, laughing, "no." "Marry Miss Pavey, then," chuckled the old man, maliciously. "Sweet creature. False teeth, false hair, false ways, false voice--falsetto. Lovely woman. See what a dresser she is. What a useful piece of furniture for a house." "Marry her yourself," said Geoffrey; "you are an old bachelor." "Bah!" exclaimed the old man. "But look here, sir. My niece!" "Still harping on my daughter." "No, I'm not, Polonius Junior; but upon my niece. You say she don't go out to meet you." "No, she does not."