At this moment John Temple opened the dining-room door, and walked up to his place at the table, while Mrs. Temple still had his letter in her hand.
“Good-morning, Mrs. Temple; good-morning, uncle,” said John, pleasantly.
“Good-morning, nephew John,” answered Mrs. Temple, with just a touch of defiance in her tone. “Do you see I am meddling with your property?” And she placed the letter in his hand. “I have just been admiring the handwriting of your lady correspondent, and the size and fullness of her epistle.”
John’s brown face colored slightly, and he put out his hand for his letter, but that was all.
“Ah,” he said, looking at it with affected carelessness, “this is from my landlady in town, and no doubt contains all my unpaid bills.”
“I thought you had no unpaid bills,” retorted Mrs. Temple, smiling. “Your uncle, on my suggesting that he should pay some of mine, held you up as a pattern in the matter of bills. ‘John owes nothing,’ he said; now it appears to me that if that envelope contains nothing but bills, that John must owe a great deal.”
“Rachel, do not talk nonsense,” interrupted the squire, moving his newspaper restlessly. “John, what will you take?”
John put his letter into his pocket before he made his choice.
“Let me hide my bills first,” he said. “Thanks, uncle,” he said, “I’ll have some cold grouse.”