At this moment Reginald Haggard entered the gallery.
"I hear, my lord," he said, as he shook hands with the old nobleman, "that you have hung the last long-sought treasure this morning. Is it really so?"
The old lord nodded.
"I suppose you will begin the weeding process now?" continued Haggard.
The old man drew himself up a little stiffly. "If you can indicate to me anything that is unworthy, you will confer an obligation; but I think you'll find it difficult. In my opinion, Haggard," he continued, "and in the opinion of others far better able to judge than I am, there is nothing here requiring weeding out."
Haggard slightly flushed.
"I can only plead my ignorance," he said; "it is what most connoisseurs do."
"Yes, there you're quite right; but most men begin collecting as the amusement of their old age. I began it sixty years ago, and I'm afraid my long life's labour is over, and that, useless old man that I am, I've lived too long already."
"You look upon things in a melancholy light, my lord."