turnings; but by means of inquiry from everyone they met, they succeeded at last in reaching the place they were in search of.
There was an old and gray porter's lodge, and an old and gray gateway, with two tall, moss-grown stone pillars, and an iron gate between them. On the top of the pillars were crumbled stone shields, seemingly held in place by a lion on each pillar.
"Is this Holmwood House?" asked Morris of the old and gray man who came out of the porter's lodge.
"Yes, sir, it be," replied the man.
"Are visitors permitted to see the house and the grounds?"
"No, they be'ant," was the answer. "Visitors were allowed on Saturdays in the old Squire's time, but since he died they tell me the estate is in the courts, and we have orders from the London lawyers to let nobody in."
"I can make it worth your while," said George, feeling in his vest pocket; "this lady would like to see the house."
The old man shook his head, even although George showed him a gold piece between his finger and thumb. Morris was astonished at this, for he had the mistaken belief which all Americans have, that a tip in Europe, if it is only large enough, will accomplish anything.
