"Plenty of work, I hope?"
"Well, not just lately, Sir Wilton."
"Good! I may have some for you. I'll see you about it this evening or to-morrow; meanwhile keep yourself free. By the way, how's your mother?"
"Very sadly, Sir Wilton. I sometimes fare to think she's not long for this world."
"Nonsense, man! What's the matter with her?"
Tom hardly knew. That was old age, he thought. Then the house was that old and small; sometimes she fared to stifle for want of air. And this Tom said doggedly, for a reason.
"Ah!" cried Sir Wilton, his fixed eye brightening. "Wasn't there a question of repairs some time since?"
"There was, Sir Wilton."
"Well, I'll reconsider it. We must do what we can to make the old lady comfortable for the winter. I'll come and see her, and I'll see you again about the other matter. Keep yourself free meanwhile. Don't you let any of those Lakenhall fellows snap you up!"
And Sir Wilton went on chuckling, but again turned quickly and called the other back.