"It was too far, my poy," said the old lady; "and I was tired. It's a long way, look you, from Caerwmlych, and I'm a very old woman now. Well, Lloyd--well, Chane, you're both looking older than when I was here last, close upon thirty years ago, and nursed you through two illnesses." "We are quite well," said Mrs Lloyd; "but didn't expect you here." "P'r'abs not, p'r'abs not," said the old lady; "put Polly here wrote to me to come, and I thought it was time, for she's peen telling me strange news, look you." Lloyd shuffled in his chair, Mrs Lloyd was silent, and Richard's brow knit as he glanced across the table at Pratt, while Humphrey busied himself in supplying the old lady's plate. "I cot Polly's letter, look you, and I teclare to cootness, if I'd been tead and perried, I think I should have cot up and t come, look you. And so you're married to Humphrey! Ah, well, he was a tisacreeable paby; but he's grown, look you, into a fine lad, and I wish you poth choy." The old lady took a glass of wine and ate a little, and then grew more garrulous than ever, while no one else seemed disposed to speak. "And I'm glad to see you again," said the old lady, looking at Richard. "I tidn't expect it when I left you at the railway place; and yet I seemed to know you again, look you. I felt I knew the face, and I teclare to cootness I couldn't tell where I'd seen it, but I rememper now." "Come, aunt, darling," said Polly, "make a good breakfast." "Tinner you mean, child," said the old lady. "Well, dinner, dear," said Polly, "because I want a long talk with you before we go." "You're coing away, then?" "Yes, aunt, for a month; but you'll stay till we come back?" "Well, I ton't know, look you," said the old lady, sturdily. "Chane Lloyd and I never tid get on well together; but if Mr Richard Trevor there isn't too prout to ask a poor old woman off the mountains--who nursed his poor mother, and tantled him in her arms when he was a paby-- I teclare to cootness I will stay." A dead silence fell upon the group at the table. Humphrey seemed uncomfortable, Polly clung to his arm, Mrs Lloyd looked white and downcast, and her husband glanced at the door, and motioned a servant who was entering to retire. Richard broke the silence, after giving a reassuring smile to Humphrey and his wife, by saying, gravely-- "I would ask you to stay with pleasure, Mrs Price, if I were master here, but you are mistaken. There sits Mr Humphrey Trevor; I am your own kith and kin, Richard Lloyd." "Chut!--chut!--chut!" exclaimed the old lady, starting up and speaking angrily, as she pointed at him with one finger. "Who ever saw a Lloyd or a Price with a nose like that? Ton't tell me! You're Mr Richard Trevor, your father's son, and as much like him, look you, as two peas." The Lloyds rose, Mrs Lloyd looking like ashes as she clung to her husband's arm; while Pratt left his place, and stood behind the chair of his friend.