'Not at all--not at all, my dear boy,' said his father; 'I would rather
cramp myself than that you should be cramped, a thousand times over.
But it is all my Lady Clonbrony's nonsense. If people would but, as they
ought, stay in their own country, live on their own estates, and kill
their own mutton, money need never be wanting.'

For killing their own mutton, Lord Colambre did not see the
indispensable necessity; but he rejoiced to hear his father assert that
people should reside in their own country.

'Ay,' cried Lord Clonbrony, to strengthen his assertion, as he always
thought it necessary to do, by quoting some other person's opinion. 'So
Sir Terence O'Fay always says, and that's the reason your mother can't
endure poor Terry. You don't know Terry? No, you have only seen him;
but, indeed, to see him is to know him; for he is the most off-hand,
good fellow in Europe.'

'I don't pretend to know him yet,' said Lord Colambre. 'I am not so
presumptuous as to form my opinion at first sight.'

'Oh, curse your modesty!' interrupted Lord Clonbrony; 'you mean, you
don't pretend to like him yet; but Terry will make you like him. I
defy you not. I'll introduce you to him--him to you, I mean--most
warn-hearted, generous dog upon earth--convivial--jovial--with wit and
humour enough, in his own way, to split you--split me if he has not. You
need not cast down your eyes, Colambre. What's your objection?'

'I have made none, sir; but, if you urge me, I can only say that, if
he has all these good qualities, it is to be regretted that he does not