to injure what can only have been your property. I am
vastly concerned that it should have occurred."

Sir Charles stared with intolerant eyes at this impertinent apparition.
The other looked back in a laughable parody of his senior's manner. As
Ambrose had remarked after his inspection from the balcony, the two were
very alike, save that the younger was smaller, finer cut, and the more
nervously alive of the two.

"You are my nephew, Vereker Tregellis?" asked Sir Charles.

"Yours to command, sir."

"I hear bad reports of you from Oxford."

"Yes, sir, I understand that the reports _are_ bad."

"Nothing could be worse."

"So I have been told."

"Why are you here, sir?"

"That I might see my famous uncle."

"So you made a tumult in his street, forced his door, and beat his
footman?"

"Yes, sir."

"You had my letter?"

"Yes, sir."

"You were told that I was not receiving?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can remember no such exhibition of impertinence."

The young man smiled and rubbed his hands in satisfaction.

"There is an impertinence which is redeemed by wit," said Sir Charles,
severely. "There is another which is the mere boorishness of the
clodhopper. As you grow older and wiser you may discern the difference."

"You are very right, sir," said the young man, warmly. "The finer shades
of impertinence are infinitely subtle, and only experience and the
society of one who is a recognised master"--here he bowed to his
uncle--"can enable one to excel."

Sir Charles was notoriously touchy in temper for the first hour after his
morning chocolate. He allowed himself to show it.

"I cannot congratulate my brother upon his son," said he. "I had hoped
for something more worthy of our traditions."

"Perhaps, sir, upon a longer acquaintance--"

"The chance is too small to justify the very irksome experience. I must
ask you, sir, to bring to a close a visit which never should have been
made."

The young man smiled affably, but gave no sign of departure.

"May I ask, sir," said he, in an easy conversational fashion, "whether
you can recall Principal Munro, of my college?"

"No, sir, I cannot," his uncle answered, sharply.

"Naturally you would not burden your memory to such an extent, but he
still remembers you. In some conversation with him yesterday he did me
the honour to say that I brought you back to his recollection by what he
was pleased to call the mingled levity and obstinacy of my character.