"Oh, you're there, are you," he said, stumping across the little passage. "What are you doing there, madam?" "Defending your curried lobster, most bravely, old gentleman," said Geoffrey, coming to the rescue, but asking himself how he could have been such an ass, and whether he had not caught the complaint so prevalent in Carnac. "How the devil did you know I had got curried lobster?" cried the old man. "Smelt it," said Geoffrey, curtly. "Is it good?" "No, it isn't good," cried the old man, "and I want to know why--why my niece can't let the girl wait upon you." "Why, you're jealous, old boy," cried Geoffrey. "Hang it all! are you to have all the good things, and best attention in the house? Let me have my sole in the next room, Miss Mullion. Your uncle's low-spirited this morning, and I'll go and keep him company. Come along, old fellow." To Madge's great relief, and Uncle Paul's utter astonishment, the result being a grateful look from the one and an angry snarl from the other, Geoffrey thrust his arm through that of the old man, marched him into his own room, and half forced him into his chair. "There, begin your breakfast," cried Geoffrey; "it's getting cold." "It's always getting cold, and how the devil am I to eat my lobster without salt? Every thing's forgotten now, so that you may get what you want." "Rubbish!" said Geoffrey, taking a chair. "It is not rubbish, sir. Didn't I see that jade exchanging glances with you just now? and she's always in your room." "Let the poor girl alone, and don't worry her into hysterics, at all events not until I have got my sole," cried Geoffrey; "and don't talk stuff about what you don't understand. What paper's that?" "_Times_. What I don't understand?" cried Uncle Paul, who was foaming with rage at being so unceremoniously treated. "Yes, what you don't understand. Thanks, Miss Mullion, that will do. But there's no salt." "I do forget so now," said poor Madge. "Yes, and what can you expect, if you stuff your brains full of other things?" snarled Uncle Paul, with the result that Madge beat a hasty retreat, and the maid came in with the salt and the rest of the breakfast. "Now look here, Uncle Paul," said Geoffrey, as the old man, after growling and snarling a little over his curry, took a liqueur of brandy in a very small cup of coffee, and seemed to calm down, "you are a shrewd old fellow." "Shrewd?" he cried, "I'm an old fool, a lunatic, an ass, or I should never have brought you up here." "Ah! we all do foolish things sometimes." "Yes, even to running after artful, coquetting jades of girls." "Well," said Geoffrey--"By George! what a capital sole, flaky and creamy as can be. Try a bit." "Curse your sole!" snarled the old man, with his mouth full of curry.