“I am rather afraid,” said Ephraim, in a hesitating tone, “that he will call at the Fells: and if he say anything that the Squire thinks impertinent or interfering, he will make an enemy of him.”
“Oh, Father would just show him the door,” said I, “without more ado.”
“Yes, I fear so,” replied Ephraim. “And I am sure he is a good man, Cary. A little rash and incautious, perhaps; does not take time to study character, and so forth; but I am sure he means to do right.”
“It will be a pity,” said I. “Ephraim, do you think the Prince will march on London?”
“I have not a doubt of it, Cary.”
“Oh!” said I. I don’t quite know whether I felt more glad or sorry. “But you will not stay here if he do?”
“Yes, I think I shall,” said he.
“You will join the army?”
“No, not unless I am pressed.”
I suppose my face asked another question, for he added with a smile, “I came to keep watch of—that. I must see that it is not spoiled.”