what sort of a lad is he?"

Mr. Havisham drank a little of the glass of port he had poured out for
himself, and sat holding it in his hand.

"It is rather difficult to judge of the character of a child of seven,"
he said cautiously.

The Earl's prejudices were very intense. He looked up quickly and
uttered a rough word.

"A fool, is he?" he exclaimed. "Or a clumsy cub? His American blood
tells, does it?"

"I do not think it has injured him, my lord," replied the lawyer in
his dry, deliberate fashion. "I don't know much about children, but I
thought him rather a fine lad."

His manner of speech was always deliberate and unenthusiastic, but he
made it a trifle more so than usual. He had a shrewd fancy that it
would be better that the Earl should judge for himself, and be quite
unprepared for his first interview with his grandson.

"Healthy and well-grown?" asked my lord.

"Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown," replied the lawyer.

"Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?" demanded the Earl.

A very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham's thin lips. There rose up
before his mind's eye the picture he had left at Court Lodge,--the
beautiful, graceful child's body lying upon the tiger-skin in careless
comfort--the bright, tumbled hair spread on the rug--the bright, rosy
boy's face.

"Rather a handsome boy, I think, my lord, as boys go," he said, "though
I am scarcely a judge, perhaps. But you will find him somewhat different
from most English children, I dare say."

"I haven't a doubt of that," snarled the Earl, a twinge of gout seizing
him. "A lot of impudent little beggars, those American children; I've
heard that often enough."

"It is not exactly impudence in his case," said Mr. Havisham. "I can
scarcely describe what the difference is. He has lived more with older
people than with children, and the difference seems to be a mixture of
maturity and childishness."

"American impudence!" protested the Earl. "I've heard of it before. They
call it precocity and freedom. Beastly, impudent bad manners; that's
what it is!"

Mr. Havisham drank some more port. He seldom argued with his lordly
patron,--never when his lordly patron's noble leg was inflamed by gout.
At such times it was always better to leave him alone. So there was a
silence of a few moments. It was Mr. Havisham who broke it.

"I have a message to deliver from Mrs. Errol," he remarked.

"I don't want any of her messages!" growled his l