"You never saw your father to remember, did you?"
"No, Sir Richard."
"Nor your mother?"
"Nor my mother."
"Poor boy—poor boy!"
"You knew my mother?"
"Yes, Peter, I knew your mother," said Sir Richard, staring very hard at the chair again, and I saw that his mouth had grown wonderfully tender. "Yours has been a very secluded life hitherto, Peter," he went on after a moment.
"Entirely so," said I, "with the exception of my never-to-be-forgotten visits to the Hall."
"Ah, yes, I taught you to ride, remember."
"You are associated with every boyish pleasure I ever knew," said I, laying my hand upon his arm. Sir Richard coughed and grew suddenly red in the face.