"By letting things be as they are. By saying his father knew best."
"Young men never think that," answered she. "'Tis well known that no young man ever thought his father knew better than himself."
"Then he'll pretend to for his own convenience."
"What about all that talk of changes for the better before Mister
Ironsyde died then?"
"Talk of dead men won't go far. We'll hear no more of that."
Sarah frowned and went her way. At the door, however, she turned.
"I might get to hear something about it next Sunday very like," she said. "I'm going into Bridport to my Aunt Nelly at 'The Seven Stars'; and she's a great friend of Richard Gurd at 'The Tiger'; and 'tis there Mister Raymond spends half his time, they say. So Mr. Gurd may have learned a bit about it."
"No doubt he'll hear a lot of words, and as for Raymond Ironsyde, his father knew him for a man with a bit of a heart in him and didn't trust him accordingly. But you can take it from me—"
A bell rang and its note struck Mr. Baggs dumb. He ceased both to speak and work, dropped his hank, turned down his shirt sleeves and put on his coat. Sarah at the stroke of the bell also manifested no further interest in Levi's forebodings but left him abruptly. For it was noon and the dinner-hour had come.