He knit his brows in annoyance, and I was sorry I had spoken.
"What young man?" asked he.
"That gentleman whom you recommended to father for the farm," said I, half ashamed of myself.
"Oh, Trayton Harrod!" exclaimed the squire, with a relieved expression. "Oh no, no, I shall not trouble your father again about that unless he speaks to me. I thought it might be an advantageous thing, for I have known the young man since he was a lad, and he has been well brought up—a clever fellow all round. But your father knows his own business best. It might not work."
It was on my lips to say that of course it would not work, but I restrained myself, and the squire went on:
"I'm so delighted to see your father himself again," he said. "There's no need for any one to help him so long as he can do it all himself; and of course you, I know, do a great deal for him," added he, as though struck by an after-thought. "I saw you walking round the mill farm this morning."
"Did you?" answered I. "I only went up about the flour. I didn't see you."
"No," he said. "I was riding the other way."
He walked up to the window as he spoke, and looked out over the lawn.
Somehow I was glad that I had just seen Joyce and Captain Forrester go down the cliff out of sight a few minutes before the squire arrived.