"Come, come, squire," said she, in the pretty familiar way in which she always addressed him, "we'll have no more politics. The girls and me don't understand such talk, and it isn't civil to be leaving us o' one side all the evening."
He laughed, and asked what we wanted to talk about, and at the same time Mr. Hoad came forward to take his leave.
He smiled, shaking hands with mother, but his smile was a sour one, and I noticed that he scarcely touched father's hand.
"I suppose Hoad is in a bad temper because you won't take up Thorne's cause," said the squire, as soon as the solicitor had passed up the passage.
Father gave a grunt of acquiescence, and the squire turned to us with most marked and laudable intent to obey mother and change the talk.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked. "Young Squire Ingram is to be married to Miss Upjohn. I heard it yesterday riding round that way."
Mother looked up eagerly. The subject was one quite to her own mind, but the news was startling.
"Never to Nance Upjohn of Bredemere Farm?" asked she.
"The very same, Mrs. Maliphant," replied the squire. "Folk say they are to be married at Michaelmas."
"Heart alive!" ejaculated mother, lapsing into the vernacular in her excitement. "Isn't old squire in a fine way?"