"Indeed," smiled Barnabas, "the best of fathers are, after all, only
human."

"Aha!" cried his Lordship, "there speaks experience. And yet, sir,
these human fathers, one and all, believe in what I may term the
divine right of fathers to thwart, and bother, and annoy sons old
enough to be--ha--"

"To know their own minds," said Barnabas.

"Precisely," nodded his Lordship. "Consequently, my Roman father and
I fell out--my honored Roman and I frequently do fall out--but this
morning, sir, unfortunately 't was before breakfast." Here his
Lordship snatched a hasty bite of bread and meat with great appetite
and gusto, while Barnabas sat, dreamy of eye, staring away across
the valley.

"Pray," said he suddenly, yet with his gaze still far away,
"do you chance to be acquainted with a Sir Mortimer Carnaby?"

"Acquainted," cried his Lordship, speaking with his mouth full.
"Oh, Gad, sir, every one who _is_ any one is acquainted with Sir
Mortimer Carnaby."

"Ah!" said Barnabas musingly, "then you probably know him."

"He honors me with his friendship."

"Hum!" said Barnabas.