‘All for their own honour and glory! The place is a testimony to the antiquity of the family of which they are a shoot run to seed--and very ugly seed too! It’s enough to break one’s heart to think of such a glorious old place in such hands. Did you ever see young Brotherton?’ ‘I knew him a little at college. He’s a good-looking fellow!’ ‘Would be if it weren’t for the bad blood in him. That comes out unmistakeably. He’s vulgar.’ ‘Have you seen much of him, then?’ ‘Quite enough. I never heard him say anything vulgar, or saw him do anything vulgar, but vulgar he is, and vulgar is every one of the family. A man who is always aware of how rich he will be, and how good-looking he is, and what a fine match he would make, would look vulgar lying in his coffin.’ ‘You are positively caustic, Miss Coningham.’ ‘If you saw their house in Cheshire! But blessings be on the place!--it’s the safety-valve for Moldwarp Hall. The natural Manchester passion for novelty and luxury finds a vent there, otherwise they could not keep their hands off it; and what was best would be sure to go first. Corchester House ought to be secured to the family by Act of Parliament.’ ‘Have you been to Corchester, then?’ ‘I was there for a week once.’ ‘And how did you like it?’ ‘Not at all. I was not comfortable. I was always feeling too well-bred. You never saw such colours in your life. Their drawing-rooms are quite a happy family of the most quarrelsome tints.’ ‘How ever did they come into this property?’ ‘They’re of the breed somehow--a long way off though. Shouldn’t I like to see a new claimant come up and oust them after all! They haven’t had it above five-and-twenty years or so. Wouldn’t you?’ ‘The old man was kind to me once.’ ‘How was that? I thought it was only through Mrs Wilson you knew anything of them.’ I told her the story of the apple. ‘Well, I do rather like old Sir Giles,’ she said, when I had done. ‘There’s a good deal of the rough country gentleman about him. He’s a better man than his son anyhow. Sons will succeed their fathers, though, unfortunately.’ ‘I don’t care who may succeed him, if only I could get back my sword. It’s too bad, with an armoury like that, to take my one little ewe-lamb from me.’ Here I had another story to tell. After many interruptions in the way of questions from my listener, I ended it with these words-- ‘And--will you believe me?--I saw the sword hanging in that armoury this afternoon--close by that splendid hilt I pointed out to you.’ ‘How could you tell it among so many?’ ‘Just as you could tell that white creature from this brown one. I know it, hilt and scabbard, as well as a human face.’ ‘As well as mine, for instance?’ ‘I am surer of it than I was of you this morning. It hasn’t changed like you.’