Tinker, your accent is getting too good. The honest
English tongue was never made to speak French like a Frenchman. Let up
on it a little."

"Yes, sir," said Hildebrand Anne.

"But you ought to do something, don't you know?" said Lord Crosland.
"The child's very pretty, and nice, and sweet, and all that. It would
be no end of a shame if she came to grief with that bounder Courtnay."

"I won't stir a finger," said Sir Tancred firmly, "for two reasons.
One, Bumpkin Wigram helped my stepmother spoil my early life; two, if
this bounder Courtnay has got round Bumpkin words would be wasted.
Bumpkin is as dense and as obstinate as any clodhopper who ever chawed
bacon."

"But she's a pretty child and worth saving," said Lord Crosland. "What
do you think, Tinker?"

"I should think she was rather inexperienced," said Hildebrand Anne,
with admirable judgment.

"Solomon, va!" said Lord Crosland, clutching the boy's ribs, and
drawing from him a sudden yell.

"Well, come along; we have a hard day's work before us," said Sir
Tancred; and the two of them rose and strolled off towards the Temple
of Fortune.

They left Tinker sitting still and thoughtful, the prey of a case of
conscience. He knew the story of his father's marriage, his separation
from his wife by the action of Lady Beauleigh and Sir Everard. He had
been trained to detest them, and to believe any revenge on them a mere
act of justice. But his dead mother was but a shadowy figure to him,
and this girl was very charming, and sweet, and kind, for he had had a
long talk with her one evening, and she had shared a box of chocolates
with him. Did those chocolates constitute the tie of bread and salt
between them which his father had taught him was so binding? He wished
to help the girl, therefore he made up his mind that they did. With a
sigh of satisfaction he rose, sauntered up to the absorbed lovers, and
began to parade up and down before them. His nearness put something of
a check on the eloquence of Mr. Arthur Courtnay, and every time
Tinker's shadow fell on them he looked up and frowned.

At last he said, "Go away, my lad, and play somewhere else."

"I don't want any cheek from a hairdresser's assistant," said Tinker
with blithe readiness.

There is nothing so wounding as the truth, and Courtnay knew that he
was weak about the hair; he never could bring himself to keep it
properly cropped; it was so glossy. His florid face became quickly
florider