“I’m thinking of the effect on his nature,” answered Knox. “And I believe all that applause will be a better tonic than Dartmoor, and make the man well.”
“You think it will fetch his stroke back again?” asked Mrs. Trivett.
“That’s just what I do think, Lydia. He’ll be walking on air after such a triumph as that. He’ll fear nothing when he comes back to the vat, and all will go right.”
Then, Mr. Knox, for private ends, and suspecting he had praised Kellock enough, turned on the lecture, and began to display its fallacies and errors. For Medora’s benefit he examined the young man, and declared that his address revealed the defects of his qualities. But he need not have been at the trouble to occupy himself thus; Medora knew a great deal more about the real Jordan than it was possible for Mr. Knox to know.
She listened, but took no more part in the conversation. They proceeded down the steep lane into Ashprington presently, and at Ned Dingle’s home, Knox, to their surprise, bade Mr. Dolbear draw up.
“I’m going in here,” he said. “So I’ll wish you all ‘good night.’”
Dingle, who knew the party was to pass, stood at his outer gate smoking. Only Lydia addressed him.
“Good night, Ned,” she said, and he answered:
“Good night, mother.”
Then the trap proceeded and Mr. Dolbear permitted himself to speak rather spitefully of Philander Knox.