degree, according to the amount of his knowledge, of relief.

Archelaus drew out a chair and partook of supper, talking little; but
that little was good, racy, at times too much so, full of shrewd
observations and little flashing gleams of knowledge of men and things.
Ishmael was not abashed and silenced by it as he had been on the night
of his birthday; he too, as he sat there with his "girl" and his wider
experiences, felt that the ground over which Archelaus roamed was not
altogether untrodden by himself. Annie, by the incursion of her eldest
born, was changed, as always, from an acrid acquiescence to definite
enmity towards Ishmael and his concerns. She became so rude to Blanche
that it seemed the temper of a veritable angel still to be able to smile
and answer with politeness. For her sake Ishmael also kept his temper,
though inwardly he was ragingly angry--not so much with Annie for being
rude as with Archelaus for behaving so unwontedly well through it
all--hushing his mother up instead of encouraging her, and speaking
respectfully to Blanche himself.

After supper the young people drifted out of doors, and before the
girls, wrapping themselves against the dew, joined them, Archelaus
drifted in his cat-like way--odd for so big a man--to Ishmael's side.

"Will I wish 'ee joy, Ishmael?" he asked. "'Tes easy to see where your
heart be set. Does the maid feel she can love 'ee and Cloom Manor?"

The last words and some indefinable quality in the tone jarred on
Ishmael, disturbing the satisfaction he had felt glowing over him at the
supper-table.

"If you mean have I proposed to Miss Grey?" he said a little pompously