“The fellow shall go to college,” he said to himself; “and I won't give my lady even a hint before I have him the finest gentleman and the best scholar in the county! He shall be both! I will teach him billiards myself! By Jove! it is more of a pleasure than at my years I had a right to expect! To think of an old sinner like me being blessed with such a victory over his worst enemy! It is more than I could deserve if I lived to the age of Mephistopheles! I shouldn't like to live so long--there's so little worth remembering! I wish forgetting things wiped them out! There are things I hardly know whether I did or only wanted to do!--Damn it, it may be all over Barset by this time, that the heir to sir Wilton's property has turned up!” He rang the bell, and ordered his carriage. “I must see the old fellow, the rascal's grandfather!” he kept on to himself. “I haven't exchanged a word with him for years! And now I think of it, I take poor Robina's father for a very decent sort of fellow! If he had but once hinted what he was, every soul in the parish would have known it! I _must_ find out whether he's in my secret! I can't _prove_ it yet, but perhaps he can!” Simon Armour was not astonished to see the Lestrange carriage stop at the smithy: he thought sir Wilton had come about the cheque. He went out, and stood in hairy arms and leather apron at the carriage door. “Well, Armour, how are you?” said the baronet. “Well and hearty, sir, I thank you,” answered Simon. “I want a word with you,” said sir Wilton. “Shall I tell the coachman to drive round to the cottage, sir?” “No; I'll get out and walk there with you.” Simon opened the carriage-door, and the baronet got out. “That grandson of yours--” he began, the moment they were in Simon's little parlour. Simon started. “The old wretch knows!” he said to himself. “--has been too much for me!” continued sir Wilton. “He got a cheque out of me whether I would or not!” “And got the money for it, sir!” answered the smith. “He seemed to think the money better than the cheque!” “I don't blame him, by Jove! There's decision in the fellow!--They say his father's a bookbinder in London!” “Yes, sir.” “You know better! I don't want humbug, Armour! I'm not fond of it!” “You told me people said his father was a bookbinder, and I said 'Yes, sir'!” “You know as well as I do it's a damned lie! The boy is mine. He belongs neither to bookbinder nor blacksmith!” “You'll allow me a small share in him, I hope! I've done more for him than you, sir.” “That's not my fault!” “Perhaps not; but I've done more for him than you ever will, sir!” “How do you make that out?” “I've made him as good a shoesmith as ever drove nail! I don't say he's up to his grandfather at the anvil yet, but--” “An accomplishment no doubt, but not exactly necessary to a gentleman!” “It's better than dicing or card-playing!” said the blacksmith.