“Faradeane,” supplied the squire.
“Thanks, yes. I don’t remember the name in the least, and, as you may be aware, I pride myself on never forgetting a name. Who and what is this Mr. Faradeane? One of the local magnates?”
“No,” replied the squire. “He has purchased a small house here—there it is, you can see the chimneys—and settled among us. I like him extremely.”
“I should like to meet him,” said the bishop, amiably. “I very seldom forget a face, and his seems familiar to me.”
“If you’ll come with me to his cottage, I’ll ask him to dine with us to-night. He is a most charming companion,” said the squire, eagerly.
The bishop inclined his head, and the two men walked toward The Dell. As they did so they saw Faradeane in the garden, pacing up and down the gravel walk, and the squire stopped at the gate, and called to him.
Faradeane walked toward them, but at sight of the bishop stopped suddenly. It was only for a moment, however, and he came and unlocked the gate.
“Good-afternoon,” said the squire. “Let me introduce you to the Bishop of Latham, Faradeane.”
Faradeane raised his hat, and the bishop followed suit, and smiled.
“We have met before, Mr. Faradeane, have we not?” he said, pleasantly.