Walter took the hand in his own limp grasp. "Well, of course it is hard on a fellow," he answered in a rather whining manner, "but you and I got on well together, so I would rather it was you than another fellow. That Train friend of yours, for instance. He's such a cad!" "But a very good fellow for all that," said Brendon, dryly. "Oh, people always say that of a fellow who has nothing to recommend him," retorted Walter; "but as you are to be the head of the family I am glad you are not a bounder." "That's very kind of you," said George, dryly. "And very silly of Walter," growled the grandfather. "What do you mean, sir, by talking rubbish? Is it likely that any one of my blood would be what you call a bounder?" "No," said Walter, pacifying the old man. "I only mean----" "Never mind what you mean. It's sure to be something foolish. This," said Derrington, pointing with his cane to George, "is the future head of our family. Pay him all respect." "We'll get on capitally," said George, clapping Walter on the back. "And what about my income?" asked Walter. "You will have what you have now," said Derrington; "don't bother me about the matter. You and George can settle it between you." Considering how he had been ousted, Walter really took things very calmly. But he had not enough vigor to protest. He sighed. His grandfather had cowed him, and Walter profoundly admired his newly found cousin, who did not hesitate to stand up to the despot. He began to think it was a good thing that George had come into the family. He would at least save him--Walter--from constant bullying. This interesting family council was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Ward, as pert and pretty as ever. She had quite recovered her spirits, and knowing that Derrington would say nothing about the card-cheating or about the San Remo matter, she was prepared to be as insolent as she dared. But she was quite determined not to cross swords again with the old man. Like a burnt child she dreaded the fire. Derrington was altogether too much, even for her. As it was, she came sailing in with the prettiest air in the world, and held out both hands, her head on one side like a sick canary. "My dear Lord Derrington, how well you are looking! How"--here her astonished eyes fell on George. "You!" said Mrs. Ward, aghast. "Mr. Brendon! and here!" "Not Mr. Brendon," said Derrington enjoying her confusion, "but my grandson, George Vane." Dorothy, who had remained below to give some instructions to the footman, entered the room just in time to hear this announcement. She flew to her lover. "My dearest George, I am glad, glad, so glad," and before them all she kissed him. Mrs. Ward screamed: "Dorothy! What manners!" "Very good manners," said Derrington, coolly, "seeing that they are natural. Well, Mrs. Ward, George--my grandson, and heir," added the old man with emphasis, "has something to say to you." "Really. I shall be most happy to hear it."