He not only asked for it, but took it with marked pleasure. The footman in attendance returned to the servants' hall to state that the Old Devil (the domestic name for Derrington) had quite taken to the new young gentleman. Had the servants known who George was, they would have had a long gossip. As it was, they simply said that the Old Devil was always taking fancies and soon grew tired. Meanwhile, Brendon was seated in a comfortable chair, enjoying one of the best cigars he had ever placed between his lips. At his elbow smoked a cup of Mocha, and in the chair on the other side of a roaring fire of sea-timber smiled Lord Derrington. He looked a grim and determined old gentleman as he bent his shaggy brows on his grandson. He was becoming more and more delighted with the young man. "I shall have a prop for my old age at last," he thought. "Damme, he's a fine fellow! Ah, youth! youth!" George was very comfortable, and also felt grateful for the kindness which his grandfather was showing him. At the same time he felt as though he were acting wrongly in hobnobbing with a man who persistently blackened his mother's memory. But Brendon thought he saw signs of repentance in Derrington, and wished to improve the situation if he could. It was difficult for him to quite forgive the old rascal, but he was sorry for his loneliness and haggard looks. Besides, George was a Christian in more than merely going to church on Sunday. "I suppose you wondered when you received my invitation," said Derrington, in his hardest tone. "I did, sir. I wondered very much." "And you felt inclined to refuse." "I had almost made up my mind to." "Why did you change your mind?" George pondered, and looked again at his neat shoes. "Well, sir," said he, after a pause, "I thought that after a dinner we might come to understand each other better, and I am anxious for peace." "And for recognition of your birth." "Naturally. The one included the other." "Does that mean you will fight till you get what you want?" "Yes," said George curtly, and then closed his lips with a firm determination to give battle if necessary. At the same time he felt it was rather awkward after eating Derrington's food. A sudden impulse made him rise. "What's the matter now?" asked Derrington, not moving. "Well, sir," burst out Brendon with a candor unusual in him, "I have a feeling that we are going to quarrel, and in your own house, and after that very excellent dinner I don't want to behave rudely. It will be better to postpone this talk to some other time." "Not a bit of it," said Derrington, quietly; "we are relatives, and quarrels between relatives do not count. Sit down. I have something important to say to you." George sat down and prepared for the worst. "We'll leave the question of your birth alone for the present," said the elder in a hard tone. "At this moment I wish to talk of Mrs. Jersey's death." "Yes;" said Brendon, looking down. "Also about your father's death."