“But he came down on our side without waiting for permission,” I added.
“Of course,” said Mr. Chester, laughing. “That was quite in character. You must put him on probation, Cecil. He’s the biggest mischief in three counties. He seems to possess an inborn facility for getting into scrapes.”
“And for getting out of them,” added Mrs. Chester. “Let us do him that justice.”
Laughing together, we went into the house, and a few moments later were at the table. Such a pretty room it was, and such pleasant people! My heart warmed to them instantly, for it was plain to see that they were wholesome and genuine. For a time, the talk drifted from topic to topic, but it was inevitable that it should at last turn toward the will.
“Oh, I do hope that you will be able to keep the place!” burst out Mrs. Chester, impulsively. “It would be such a relief to have companionable neighbours after—after—”
She did not finish the sentence, but we could all guess what she meant.
“Besides,” she added, “it would be too terrible to have it fall into the hands of that horrible Tunstall. Why, I should be afraid to go out of the house after dark!”
“What is the ‘philosophy of which he is such a distinguished disciple?’” I asked, quoting the will.
Mr. Chester laughed shortly, and then grew suddenly grave.
“Spiritualism,” he answered. “Not the real thing, of course, in which there may be some basis of truth, for all I know; but a kind of insincere hocus-pocus designed to catch the ignorant. I beg your pardon,” he added quickly. “I must not forget that Mrs. Nelson was a relative of yours.”