"Yes, sir—at your service."
"Well, Dumps, that's for yourself. Hush! not a word. It's not given to you as a constable, but as an honest man to whom I wish to offer an earnest of my future favour. And now come into the Hold, and take something to eat and drink."
The gratified Dumps, hardly knowing whether he stood on his head or his heels, and inwardly vowing eternal allegiance to the new Squire, stepped into the Hold, and was consigned to the hospitality of the lower regions. Mr. Chattaway groaned in agony when he heard the kindly orders echoing through the hall—to put before Mr. Dumps everything that was good to eat and drink. That is, he would have groaned, but for the questionable comfort of recollecting that the Hold and its contents no longer belonged to him.
As the Squire was turning round, he encountered Diana.
"I have been inquiring after my nephew's chamber. Is it an airy one?"
"Your nephew's?" repeated Miss Diana, not understanding. "Do you mean Christopher's?"
"I mean Rupert's. Let me see it."
He stepped up the stairs as he spoke, with the air of a man not born to contradiction. Miss Diana followed, wonderingly. The room she showed him was high up, and very small. The Squire threw his head back.
"This his room? I see! it has been all of a piece. This room was a servant's in my time. I am surprised at you, Diana."
"It is a sufficiently comfortable room," she answered: "and I used occasionally to indulge him with a fire. Rupert never complained."