They all met at Fairholme one afternoon, Harry appearing unexpectedly as the rest were at tea on the lawn. This was his first meeting with the Major. As he greeted that gentleman, even more when he shook hands with Bob, there was a touch of regality in his manner; the reserve was prominent, and his prerogative was claimed. Very soon he carried Janie off for a solitary walk in the shrubberies. Mina enjoyed her uncle's frown and chafed at Bob's self-effacement; he had been talking to Janie when Harry calmly took her away. The pair were gone half an hour, and conversation flagged. They reappeared, Janie looking rather excited, Harry almost insolently calm, and sat down side by side. The Major walked across and took a vacant seat on the other side of Janie. The slightest look of surprise showed on Harry Tristram's face. A duel began. Duplay had readiness, suavity, volubility, a trick of flattering deference; on Harry's side were a stronger suggestion of power and an assumption, rather attractive, that he must be listened to. Janie liked this air of his, even while she resented it; here, in his own county at least, a Tristram of Blent was somebody. Bob Broadley was listening to Iver's views on local affairs; he was not in the fight at all, but he was covertly watching it. Perhaps Iver watched too, but it was not easy to penetrate the thoughts of that astute man of business. The fortune of battle seemed to incline to Harry's side; the Major was left out of the talk for minutes together. More for fun than from any loyalty to her kinsman, Mina rose and walked over to Harry. "Do take me to see the greenhouses, Mr Tristram," she begged. "You're all right with uncle, aren't you, Janie?" Janie nodded rather nervously. After a pause of a full half-minute, Harry Tristram rose without a word and began to walk off; it was left for Mina to join him in a hurried little run. "Oh, wait for me, anyhow," she cried, with a laugh. They walked on some way in silence. "You're not very conversational, Mr Tristram, I suppose you're angry with me?" He turned and looked at her. Presently he began to smile, even more slowly, it seemed, than usual. "I must see that my poor uncle has fair play--what do you call it?--a fair show--mustn't I?" "Oh, that's what you meant, Madame Zabriska? It wasn't the pleasure of my company?" "Do you know, I think you rather exaggerate the pleasure--no, not the pleasure, I mean the honor--of your company? You were looking as if you couldn't understand how anybody could want to talk to uncle when you were there. But he's better-looking than you are, and much more amusing." "I don't set up for a beauty or a wit either," Harry observed, not at all put out by the Imp's premeditated candor. "No--and still she ought to want to talk to you! Why? Because you're Mr Tristram, I suppose?" Mina indulged in a very scornful demeanor. "It's very friendly of you to resent my behavior on Miss Iver's behalf."