ot bad--just what I expected, and I like to deal with
clever people. Did you put yourself on the whetstone before you came
here? I'll go bail you did."

"If I did not I would have little chance in dealing with your lordship,"
replied Mrs, Lindsay.

"Come, I like that, too;--well said, and nothing but the truth. In fact
it will be diamond cut diamond between us--eh?"

"Precisely, my lord. You will find me as sharp as your lordship, for the
life of you."

"Come, confound me, I like that best of all--a touch of my own
candor;--we're kindred spirits, Mrs. Lindsay."

"I think so, my lord. We should have been man and wife."

"Egad, if we had I shouldn't have played second fiddle, as I'm told poor
Lindsay does; however, no matter about that--even a good second is not
so bad. But now about the negotiations--come, give a specimen of your
talents. Let us come to the point."

"Well, then, I am here, my lord, to propose, in the name of my son
Woodward, for the hand of Miss Riddle, your niece."

"I see; no regard for the property she is to have, eh?"

"Do you think me a fool, my lord? Do you imagine that any one of common
sense would or should overlook such an element between parties who
propose to marry? Whatever my son may do--who is deeply attached to
Miss Riddle--I am sure I do not, nor will not, overlook it; you may rest
assured of that, my lord."

Old Cockletown looked keenly at her, and their eyes met; but, after a
long and steady gaze, the eyes of the old peer quailed, and he felt,
when put to an encounter with hers, that to which was attributed such
extraordinary influence. There sparkled in her steady black orb a
venomous exultation, mingled with a spirit of strong and contemptuous
derision, which made the eccentric old nobleman feel rather
uncomfortable. His eye fell, and, considering his age, it was decidedly
a keen one. He fidgeted upon the chair--he coughed, hemmed, then looked
about the room, and at length exclaimed, rather in a soliloquy,--

"Second fiddle! egad, I'm afraid had we been man and wife I should never
have got beyond it. Poor Lindsay! It's confoundedly odd, though."

"Well, Mrs. Lindsay--ahem--pray proceed, madam; let us come to the
property. How does your son stand in that respect?"

"He will have twelve hundred a year, my lord."

"I told you before, Mrs. Lindsay, that I--don't like the future
tense--the present for me. What has he?"

"It can scarcely be called the future tense, my lord