ld lady. "Martha Lloyd came up to tell me, as
proud as a peacock, about her young master, talking about his fine this
and fine that, till she nearly made me sick. I should get rid of her
and her man if I was him."

"What, Lloyd, the butler?" said Mr Mervyn, smiling.

"Yes," said the old lady, grimly, "they're Welsh people; so's that young
farm-bailiff of his."

"You know the whole family?" said Mr Mervyn.

"Why, I was born here!" said the old lady, "and I ought to. We've been
here for generations. Ah! and so the young squire's coming back. Time
he did; going gadding off into foreign countries all this time. Why,
he's six or seven and twenty now. Ay, how time goes," continued the old
lady, who was off now on her hobby. "Why, it was like yesterday that
the Lloyds got Mrs Trevor to send for their sister from some place with
a dreadful name; and she did, and I believe it was her death, when she
might have had a good Cornish nurse; and the next thing we heard was
that there was a son, and the very next week there was a grand funeral,
and the poor squire was never the same man again. Ah! it was an artful
trick that--sending for the nurse because Mrs Lloyd wanted her too; and
young Humphrey Lloyd was born the same week. Ay, they were strange
times. It seemed directly after that we had the news about the squire,
who got reckless-like, always out in his yacht, a poor matchwood sort of
a thing, not like our boots, and it was blown on the Longships one
night, and there wasn't even a body came ashore."

"Rather a sad family history," said Mr Mervyn.

"Ay, sad enough," said the woman; "and now the young squire's coming
home at last from sea, but he'll never be such a man as his father."

"Think not?" said Mr Mervyn, musing.

"Sure not," said the old woman. "Why, he was petted and spoiled by
those Lloyds while he was a boy, and a pretty limb he was. Him and that
young Lloyd was always in some mischief. Pretty pranks they played me.
I've been out with the stick to 'em scores of times; but he was
generous--I will say that--and many's the conger and bass he's brought
me here, proud of 'em as could be, because he caught them himself."

"Well, Mrs Trelyan, we must say good morning," said Tiny, rising and
taking the old lady's hand. "Is there anything you would like--anything
we can bring you?"

"No, child, no," said the old lady; "I don't want anything. If you'd
any good tea, I'd use a pinch; but I'm not asking