"Probably I may be late to-night. After business hours I want to have a little talk with your father."
He stood irresolutely by the fire. I knew by his countenance that there was something on his mind.
"David."
"Ay, lad."
"Will you not tell me first what you want to say to my father?"
"I can't stay now. To-night, perhaps. But, pshaw! what is there to be told? 'Nothing.'"
"Anything that concerns you can never be to me quite 'nothing.'"
"I know that," he said, affectionately, and went out of the room.
When he came in he looked much more cheerful—stood switching his riding-whip after the old habit, and called upon me to admire his favourite brown mare.
"I do; and her master likewise. John, when you're on horseback you look like a young knight of the Middle Ages. Maybe, some of the old Norman blood was in 'Guy Halifax, gentleman.'"