then into a series of snufflings, as the dogs followed
behind, sniffing at the visitor's heels.

"Do you really live here?" said Max, glancing up at the roofless
buildings.

"Live here? of course," replied Kenneth; "but we don't eat and sleep in
this part. We do that sort of thing out here."

As he spoke, he led his companion through the farther gateway, along the
groined crypt-like connecting passage, and at once into the handsome
hall of the modern part, where a feeling of warmth and comfort seemed to
strike upon Max Blande, as his eyes caught the trophies of arms and the
chase, ranged between the stained glass windows, and his wet feet
pressed the rugs and skins laid about the polished floor.

Kenneth noted the change, and, feeling as if it were time to do
something to make his guest welcome, he said,--

"We won't go in yet. Your wet feet won't hurt, and the dinner-gong
won't go for an hour yet. I'll take you round the place, and up in the
old tower. Can you climb?"

"Climb? Oh no. Not trees."

"I meant the old staircase. 'Tisn't very dangerous. But never mind
now. We'll go to-morrow. Come along."

Max thought it was to his room. But nothing was farther from Kenneth's
thoughts, as he started off at a sharp walk about the precincts of the
old place, talking rapidly the while.

"Why, the sea's all round us!" exclaimed Max, after they had been
walking, or rather climbing and descending the rocky paths of the
promontory on which the castle was built.

"To be sure it is, now. When the tide's down you can hop across the
rocks there to the mainland. You don't live in a place like this?"

"We live in Russell Square, my father and I."

"That's in London, isn't it? I've never been to town, and I don't want
to go."

"But isn't this very inconvenient? You are so far from the rail."

"Yes, thank goodness!"

Max stared.

"But you can't get a cab."

"Oh yes, you can--in Edinburgh and Glasgow."

"Then you keep a carriage?"

"Yes; you came in it--the boat," said Kenneth, laughing. "We used to
have a large yacht, but father gave it up last year. He said he
couldn't afford it now on account of the confounded lawyers."

Max winced a little, and then said, with quiet dignity,--

"My father is a lawyer."

"Is he? Beg pardon, then. But your father isn't one of the confounded
lawyers, or else you wouldn't be here."

Kenneth laughed, and Max seemed more thoughtful.

"S'pose you think we're r