"What;—after that cold letter?"
"Yes, indeed. I shall explain it all by degrees. I have taken a lease of all the land, and I'm to go back at Christmas; and as to the old gentleman,—he'd have me live there altogether if I would."
"Why, Will?"
"Is it not odd? I'm so glad I didn't make up my mind not to go when I got that letter. And yet I don't know." These last words he added slowly, and in a low voice, and Mary at once knew that everything was not quite as it ought to be.
"Is there anything wrong, Will?"
"No, nothing wrong; that is to say, there is nothing to make me regret that I went. I think I did some good to them."
"It was to do good to them that you went there."
"They wanted to have some one near them who could be to them as one of their own family. He is too old,—too much worn out to be capable of managing things; and the people there were, of course, robbing him. I think I have put a stop to that."
"And you are to go again at Christmas?"
"Yes; they can do without me at my uncle's, and you will be there. I have taken the land, and already bought some of the stock for it, and am going to buy more."