Whenever the squire was rough on Harrod for his energy—which somehow seemed to me to be rather often of late—I always reminded him that he had recommended him for that very quality. I don't think he liked to be so reminded. I don't know why, but I am sure he did not like it.
"Mr. Broderick," I said, striking a bold tangent, "when is Captain Forrester coming down again to the Manor?"
He looked at me, surprised.
"I don't know, I'm sure," he said. "He never used to come at all. He has never been at the Manor before for so long a time as he was here this spring."
"No, perhaps not," I said.
He looked at me sharply, and remembering the warning he had given me against any intimacy between my sister and Frank, it occurred to me that he might be to blame for Frank's long absence.
This thought made a sudden flame of anger leap up within me towards the squire. I could not help being angry with him if he were doing anything to keep Joyce and Frank apart. I longed to tell him so, but with that promise to mother at my back I did not dare.
"He might come for the election," said I. "I think he ought to come for the election."
The squire laughed again.
"On which side do you suppose he would throw in his interest, Miss Margaret?" he said.