"But I can't have any changes made, Mr. Belton," said Mr. Amedroz, with some affectation of dignity in his manner. "I won't have the fences moved, or anything of that kind."
"Nothing shall be done, sir, that you don't approve. I'll just manage it all as if I was acting as your own—bailiff." "Son," he was going to say, but he remembered the fate of his cousin Charles just in time to prevent the use of the painful word.
"I don't want to have anything done," said Mr. Amedroz.
"Then nothing shall be done. We'll just mend a fence or two, to keep in the cattle, and leave other things as they are. But perhaps Clara will walk out with me all the same."
Clara was quite ready to walk out, and had already tied on her hat and taken her parasol.
"Your father is a little nervous," said he, as soon as they were beyond hearing of the house.
"Can you wonder at it, when you remember all that he has suffered?"
"I don't wonder at it in the least; and I don't wonder at his disliking me either."
"I don't think he dislikes you, Mr. Belton."
"Oh, but he does. Of course he does. I'm the heir to the place instead of you. It is natural that he should dislike me. But I'll live it down. You see if I don't. I'll make him so fond of me, he'll always want to have me here. I don't mind a little dislike to begin with."