In Dum’s Ness itself there appeared to be no change at all. Except that Mr. Cardus had built a new orchid-house at the back—for as he grew older his mania for orchids increased rather than diminished—the place was exactly the same. Even the arrangement of the sitting-room was unchanged, and on its familiar bracket rested the case which Jeremy had made containing the witch’s head. The people in the house to all appearance had changed as little as the house itself. Jeremy confided to Ernest that Doll had grown rather “tubby,” which was his elegant way of indicating that she had developed a very pretty figure, and that Grice (the old housekeeper) was as skinny as a flayed weasel, and had eyes like the point of a knife. Ernest maliciously repeated these sayings to the two ladies concerned, with the result that they were both furious. Then he retreated, and left them to settle it with Jeremy. Old Atterleigh, too, was almost exactly the same, except that of late years his intellect seemed to have brightened a little. It was, however, difficult to make him understand that Ernest was blind, because the latter’s eyes looked all right. He retained some recollection of him, and brought him his notched stick to show him that, according to his (“hard-riding Atterleigh’s”) calculation, his time of service with the devil, otherwise Mr. Cardus, would expire in a few months. Dorothy read what the old man wrote upon his slate, and repeated it to Ernest; for, he being practically dumb and Ernest being blind, that was the only way in which they could communicate. “And what will you do then?” asked Ernest. “You will be wretched without any writs to fill up. Who will look after the lost souls, I should like to know?” The old man at once wrote vigorously on his slate: “I shall go out hunting on the big black horse you brought with you; he will carry my weight.” “I should advise you not to try,” said Ernest, laughing; “he does not like strange riders.” But the old man, at the mere thought of hunting, was striding up and down the room, clanking his spurs and waving his hunting crop with his uninjured arm. “Is your grandfather as much afraid of my uncle as ever, Doll?” “Oh yes, I think so; and do you know, Ernest, I don’t quite like the way he looks at him sometimes.” Ernest laughed. “I should think that the old boy is harmless enough,” he said. “I hope so,” said Dorothy. When first they came back to Dum’s Ness, Jeremy was at a great loss to know what to do with himself, and was haunted by the idea that Mr. Cardus would want him to resume that stool in his office which years before he had quitted to go in search of Ernest. A week or so after his arrival, however, his fears were very pleasantly set at rest. After breakfast, Mr. Cardus sent for him to come into his office.