“And here it is,” said Cashel, as he unlocked the wicket and flung it wide.
“Many thanks for your help, but you have a better reward than my gratitude, in eyes some five-and-thirty years younger,” said the old man, with the same half-testy voice as before. “Perhaps you 'd like to see the grounds here, yourself; come along. The place is small, but far better kept than the great demesne, I assure you; just as many an humble household is more orderly than many a proud retinue.”
Roland was rather pleased by the quaint oddity of his new companion, of whom he thought, but could not remember where, he had seen the features before.
“You are a stranger in these parts, I conclude?” said the old man.
“Yes. I only arrived here about an hour ago, and have seen nothing save the path from the Hall to this spot.”
“There 's little more worth the seeing on yonder side of the paling, sir. A great bleak expanse, with stunted trees and a tasteless mansion, full of, I take it, very dubious company; but perhaps you are one of them?”
“I confess as much,” said Roland, laughing; “but as I have not seen them, don't be afraid I 'll take up the cudgels for my associates.”
“Labor lost if you did,” said the other, bluntly. “I only know of them what the newspapers tell us; but their names are enough.”
“Are they all in the same category, then?” asked Cashel, smiling.
“Pigeons or hawks; dupes or swindlers,—an ugly alternative to choose from.”