"You didn't exactly hear what I have to say, Mr. Runce."
"And I don't want. No offence, sir, if you be a friend of my Lord's;—but if his Lordship was to say hisself that Goarly was right, I wouldn't listen to him. A good cause,—and he going about at dead o'night with his pockets full of p'ison! Hounds and foxes all one!—or little childer either for the matter o' that, if they happened on the herrings!"
"I have not said his cause was good, Mr. Runce."
"I'll wish you good evening, Sir George," said the farmer, reining his pony round. "Good evening to you, sir." And Mr. Runce trotted or rather ambled off, unable to endure another word.
"An honest man, I dare say," said the Senator.
"Certainly;—and not a bad specimen of a British farmer."
"Not a bad specimen of a Briton generally;—but still, perhaps, a little unreasonable." After that Sir George said as little as he could, till he had brought the Senator back to the hall.
"I think it's all over now," said Lady Penwether to Miss Penge, when the gentlemen had left them alone in the afternoon.
"I'm sure I hope so,—for his sake. What a woman to come here by herself, in that way!"
"I don't think he ever cared for her in the least."