"You're her man, of course, Cartmell, but I don't mind saying to you that these new people coming in and buying up everything give me a sort of feeling of being crowded. Do you know what I mean?"
"Can't keep things just as they were six hundred years ago, Sir John," said Cartmell.
Aspenick was not mollified by this tactful reference to his long descent. "Hustling, I call it! I suppose you'll be wanting Overington next?"
We both repudiated the idea of laying profane hands on Overington's ancient glories. "We'll leave you in possession, Sir John. But we may take just a slice off Hingston, if Mr. Dormer's agreeable."
"Everybody knows that Dormer's outrunning the constable, and I daresay you'll get all you want from him—but not an acre of mine, mind you!"
"Don't cry out before you're hurt, Sir John," Cartmell advised him good-humoredly. But when he was gone he said to me with a shrewd nod, "Well, we all know why he's so precious sulky!"
Aspenick's want of warmth about our new acquisitions (Cartmell and I always said "our" when we meant Jenny's) no doubt had a personal cause—though it was not hard to appreciate also his class-feeling. The property of Oxley lay full between Overington and Fillingford Manor; but since her return Jenny had severed Aspenick's house from Fillingford's in another way than that. No more was heard about Lacey and Eunice.
Cartmell was no gossip and a man of few questions unless about a horse; yet now he turned his rubicund face toward me with an air of humorous puzzle. "Any news from the house?"
"Nothing particular—just at present," I answered.
"I've looked at it this way, and I've looked at it that way, and I'm flummoxed. Why early possession—and five hundred paid for it? She can't want the house—and as business it's ridiculous. But you know her way—'My wish, Mr. Cartmell, and please no words about it!'"