"I was away at that time," chattered Pope setting down his lantern, and producing a cheap cigarette. "Mother placed me in an office; but I could not stand so sordid a life," he added with an affected shudder. "It was not the life for a poet, so I came back, and here I can write glorious verse." "So you think," said Elspeth, who had read Pope's productions, and thought very little of them. "But you would be much better earning your own bread and butter, than living on your mother." "They have brought a genius into the world, and it is their glorious duty to support him," said Pope grandiloquently. "When I am Poet Laureate, I'll make it up to them." Elspeth shrugged her spare shoulders and went resignedly about her work. It was impossible to make Pope think himself any other but the most famous poet in the world, and his conceit amounted to a positive mania. Even as Elspeth moved away, the young man commenced to mouth one of his bombastic poems, devoid of grammar or sense, and Elspeth felt inclined to stop her ears, so vile was the rhythm. This she did not do, having a vivid recollection of having suffered at Pope's hands, when she had once betrayed disgust. The poet was mild enough usually, but when his vanity was touched he grew positively dangerous, and went--as the saying goes--baresark. Knowing his eccentricities, Elspeth, therefore, paid no attention to the verses, but worked on quietly, while Pope, fancying himself a Homer at the least, walked up and down declaiming turgid blank verse. Finally, finding that Elspeth did not applaud, he stopped and looked at her spitefully. "Genius is wasted on you, Elspeth." "Entirely," she answered coolly. "Why didn't you wipe your boots before you come in, Pope. They are covered with red mud. You have been to the creek at the back of the house." "Why shouldn't I have gone there?" asked Pope, with a snarl, and his freckled face grew red. "I don't think Mr. Herries would try to escape in that way." Pope cooled down, and re-lighted his cheap cigarette. "Well, he didn't go that way, although I hunted all along the banks," he said. "Have you any idea of where he has gone, Elspeth?" "If I had, I shouldn't tell you, Pope." "You must, you are only my mother's servant." "That is not true, Pope," said the girl, but her eyes flashed angrily as she turned on him sharply. "Mr. Gowrie brought me here a year ago, and as he could not pay for his board and lodging he left me in pawn, so to speak, to your mother. I have been a drudge ever since." "Well, and what is a drudge but a servant," snapped Pope, cowering over the fire to warm his lean hands. "Is Mr. Gowrie any relation to you, Elspeth?" "Yes," she replied with an averted face, "don't ask questions." "I want to know what your last name is?" "Then you won't." "Does my mother know?" "She does not. She knows me as Elspeth, and that must content her, and you together. Why do you wish to know about me?" Pope leered at her, and his eyes flashed.