There are those to whom the present cannot be good save as a mode of the infinite. In such their divine origin asserts itself. Once known for what it is, the poorest present is a phial holding the elixir of life. On their way Simon talked about the place they were going to see, and said its present owner was an elderly man, not very robust, with a second wife, who looked as if she had not a drop of warm blood, and yet as if she might live for ever. “That was their son that came with the little lady,” he said. “And the little lady was their daughter, I suppose!” rejoined Richard, with an odd quiver somewhere near his heart. “She's an Australian, they say,” answered his grandfather; “--no relation, I fancy.” “Is Mortgrange a grand place?” asked Richard. “It's a fine house and a great estate,” answered Simon. “More might be made of it, no doubt; and I hope one day more will be made of it.” “What do you mean by that, grandfather?” “That I hope the son will make a better landlord than the father.” They came to a great iron gate, standing open, without any lodge. “We're in luck!” said the blacksmith. “This will save us a long round! Somebody must have rode out, and been too lazy to shut it! We'd better leave it as we find it, though! Or say we bring the two halves together without snapping the locks! I know the locks; I put 'em both on myself.--See now what a piece of work that gate is! All done with the hand! None o' your beastly casting there! Up to _your_ work, that, I'm thinking, lad!” “Indeed it is! Those gates are worth reducing, for plates to stamp the covers of a right precious volume with!” Simon misunderstood, and was on the point of flaring up, but what Richard followed with quieted him. “I could almost give up bookbinding to work a pair of gates like those!” he said. “I believe you, my boy!” returned his grandfather. “Come and live with me, and you shall!” “But who would buy them when I had worked them?” “If nobody had the sense, we'd put 'em up before the cottage!” “Like a door-lock on a prayer-book!” “No matter! They would be worth the worth of themselves!” “You would have to make the wall so high, there would be no light in the house!” persisted Richard. “Tut, man! did you never hear of a joke? All I say is, that if you'll come and work with me--I don't need to slave more than I like; I've got a few pounds in the bank!--if you'll work, I'll teach you. Leave me to find a fit place for what comes of it! They do most things at the foundries now, but there's a market yet for hammer-work--if it be good enough, and not too dear; for them as knows a good thing when they sees it, ain't generally got much money to buy things. It's my opinion the only way to learn the worth of a thing, is to have to go without it.” “Few people fancy iron gates, I fear.” “More might fancy them if they were to be had good,” returned the old man.