"No, my lord; he doesn't interfere about that. He knows he can't touch that, because your lordship allocated it to me—and, to do him justice, I don't think he would if he could. And he's not a bad boy, my lord; only mistaken about this."
"Oh, he wants his own house, does he?"
"But it isn't his own house, you know. It has been my house ever since his father died. And if your lordship will remember—"
"I tell you what, Mrs. Wilkinson; it seems to me that your son should not let you come out so far by yourself—"
"My lord!"
"And if you'll take my advice, you'll go home as fast as you can, and live wherever he bids you."
"But, my lord—"
"At any rate, I must beg you not to trouble me any more about the matter. When I was a young man your husband read with me for a few months; and I really think that two presentations to the living have been a sufficient payment for that. I know nothing about your son, and I don't want to know anything. I dare say he's as good as most other clergymen—"
"Oh, yes; he is, my lord."
"But I don't care a straw who lives in the house."