Meadows turned hot and cold.
“I am going—to speak—to my brother, Mr. Meadows!” said he, syllable by syllable to Meadows in a way brimful of meaning.
“To me, George?” said William, a little uneasy.
“To you!—Fall back a bit.” (Some rustics were encroaching upon the circle.)
“Fall back, if you please; this is a family matter.”
Isaac Levi, instead of going quite away, seated himself on a bench outside the palings.
It was now William's turn to flutter; he said, however, to himself, “It is about the farm; it must be about the farm.”
George resumed. “I've often had it on my mind to speak to you, but I was ashamed, now that's the truth; but now I am going away from her I must speak out, and I will—William!”
“Yes, George?”
“You've taken—a fancy—to my Susan, William!”