"

"Has he much property?"

"None to speak of."

"But he has means to travel."

I meditated. "He has not expected to travel far," I said at last. "You
know, he's in very poor health."

"Poor gentleman! So I supposed."

"But there's more of him to go on with than he thinks. He came here
because he wanted to see your place before he dies."

"Dear me--kind man!" And I imagined in the quiet eyes the hint of a
possible tear. "And he was going away without my seeing him?"

"He's very modest, you see."

"He's very much the gentleman."

I couldn't but smile. "He's ALL--"

At this moment we heard on the terrace a loud harsh cry. "It's the great
peacock!" said Miss Searle, stepping to the window and passing out while
I followed her. Below us, leaning on the parapet, stood our appreciative
friend with his arm round the neck of the setter. Before him on
the grand walk strutted the familiar fowl of gardens--a splendid
specimen--with ruffled neck and expanded tail. The other dog had
apparently indulged in a momentary attempt to abash the gorgeous biped,
but at Searle's summons had bounded back to the terrace and leaped upon
the ledge, where he now stood licking his new friend's face. The scene
had a beautiful old-time air: the peacock flaunting in the foreground
like the genius of stately places; the broad terrace, which flattered
an innate taste of mine for all deserted walks where people may have sat
after heavy dinners to drink coffee in old Sevres and where the stiff
brocade of women's dresses may have rustled over grass or gravel; and
far around us, with one leafy circle melting into another, the timbered
acres of the park. "The very beasts have made him welcome," I noted as
we rejoined our companion.

"The peacock has done for you, Mr. Searle," said his cousin, "what he
does only for very great people. A year ago there came here a great
person--a grand old lady--to see my brother. I don't think that since
then he has spread his tail as wide for any one else--not by a dozen
feathers."

"It's not alone the peacock," said Searle. "Just now there came slipping
across my path a little green lizard, the first I ever saw, the lizard
of literature! And if you've a ghost, broad daylight though it be,
I expect to see him here. Do you know the annals of your house, Miss
Searle?"

"Oh dear, no! You must ask my brother for all those things."

"You ought to have a collection of legends and traditions. You ought to
have l