Fielding looked at him, looked at the extended hand, paused for a long moment, finally took it.
"Don't want to quarrel with me, eh?" he said.
"Not without cause," said Dick.
Fielding gripped the firm, lithe hand, looking at him hard and straight. "You're very cussed," he said slowly. "I wish I'd had the upbringing of you."
Dick laughed. "Well, you've meddled in my affairs as long as I can remember, sir. I don't know anyone who has had as much to do with me as you have."
"And precious little satisfaction I've got out of it," grumbled the squire. "You've always been a kicker." He broke off as a knock came at the door, and turned away with an impatient fling. "Who is it? Come in!"
The door opened. Juliet stood on the threshold. The evening light fell full upon her. She was dressed in cloudy grey that fell about her in soft folds. Her face was flushed, but quite serene.
"Mrs. Fielding wants to know if you have forgotten dinner," she said.
The squire's face changed magically. He smiled upon Juliet. "Come in,
Miss Moore! You've met this pestilent pedagogue before, I think."
"Just once or twice," said Juliet, coming forward.