Now, look you," and here again the speaker's manner changed with his shifting mood, "if ever again you venture to address me as your father, or to boast of me as such, I will have you turned out neck and crop; but as Mr.Richard Yorke, my guest, you will be welcome at Crompton, so long as we two suit each other; only beware, young Sir, that you tell me no lies.

I shall soon get rid of you on these terms," continued the Squire, with a chuckle; "for to speak truth must be as difficult to you, considering the stock you come of, as dancing on the tight-rope.

Your mother, indeed, was a first-rate rope-dancer in that way, and I rarely caught her tripping; but you--" "Sir," interrupted the young man, passionately, "is this your hospitality ?" "True, lad, true," answered the Squire, good-humoredly; "I had intended to have forgotten Madam Yorke's existence.

Well, Sir, what _are_ you ?--what do you do, I mean, for a livelihood--beside 'night-watching ?'" "I am a landscape-painter, Sir." "Umph!" grunted Carew, contemptuously; "you don't get fat on that pasture, I reckon.

Have you never done any thing else ?" For a single instant the young man hesitated to reply; then answered, "Never." "You are quite sure of that ?" inquired the other, suspiciously.
"Quite sure." "Good! Here, come with me." His host led the way along an ample corridor, hung with tall pictures of their common ancestors, and opened the door of another bedroom.