hat was enough
to make him glower and to bring back something of the old-time look of
suspicion to his face. But the greater part of his attention was
engrossed by the second half of Southend's ill-advised bit of
jubilation.

"The name? The difficulty about the name?" he asked.

"If it had been a barony--well, hers would take precedence, of course.
With the higher degree yours will come first, and her barony be
merged--Viscount Blentmouth, eh, Harry?" He chuckled with glee.

"Viscount Blentmouth be hanged!" cried Harry. He mastered himself with
an effort. "I beg your pardon, Lady Evenswood; and I'm much obliged to
you, and to you too, Lord Southend, for--for screwing Mr Disney up. It's
not a thing I could or should have done or tried to do for myself." In
spite of his attempted calmness his voice grew a little louder. "I want
nothing but what's my own. If nothing's my own, well and good--I can
wait till I make it something."

"But, my dear Harry----!" began the discomfited Southend. Harry cut him
short, breaking again into impetuous speech.

"There's nothing between my cousin and me. There's no question of
marriage and never can be. And if there were----" He seemed to gather
himself up for a flight of scorn--"If there were, do you think I'm going
to save my own pride by saddling the family with a beastly new
viscounty?"

His tones rose in indignation on the last sentence, as he looked from
one to the other. "Viscount Blentmouth indeed!" he growled.

Southend's hands were out before him in signal of bewildered distress.
Lady Evenswood looked at Harry, then, with a quick forward inclination
of her body, past him; and she began to laugh.

"Thank you very much, but I've been Tristram of Blent," ended Harry,
now in a very fine fume, and feeling he had been much insulted.

Still looking past him, Lady Evenswood sat laughing quietly. Even on
Southend's face came an uneasy smile, as he too looked toward the door.
After a moment's furious staring at the two Harry faced round. The door
had been softly and noiselessly opened to the extent of a couple of
feet. A man stood in the doorway, tugging at a ragged beard and with
eyes twinkling under rugged brows. Who was he, and how did he come
there? Harry heard Lady Evenswood's laughter; he heard her murmur to
herself with an accent of pleasure, "A beastly new viscounty!" Then the
man in the doorway came a little farther in, saying:

"That's exactly what I think about it, Mr