“I wish Trafford would make up his mind!” cried one. “Three weeks ago he told me positively he would leave, and now I hear he offered Craycroft three thousand pounds to retire from the majority.”
“That 's true; Craycroft told me so himself; but old Joe is a wily bird, and he 'll not be taken so easily.”
“He's an eldest son now!” broke in another. “What does he care whether he be called major or captain?”
“An eldest son!” cried Sewell, suddenly; “how is that? When I met him at the Cape, he spoke of an elder brother.”
“So he had, then, but he's 'off the hooks.'”
“I don't think it matters much,” said the Colonel. “The bulk of the property is disentailed, and Sir Hugh can leave it how he likes.”
“That's what I call downright shameful,” said one; but he was the minority, for a number of voices exclaimed,—“And perfectly right; that law of primogeniture is a positive barbarism.”
While the dispute waxed warm and noisy, Sewell questioned the Colonel closely about Trafford,—how it happened that the entail was removed, and why there was reason to suppose that Sir Hugh and his son were not on terms of friendship.
Cave was frank enough when he spoke of the amount of the fortune and the extent of the estate, but used a careful caution in speaking of family matters, merely hinting that Trafford had gone very fast, spent a deal of money, had his debts twice paid by his father, and was now rather in the position of a reformed spendthrift, making a good character for prudence and economy.
“And where is he?—not in Ireland?” asked Se well, eagerly.