One morning Alice Heathcote was talking alone with the invalid, when the name of Fred Bingham was mentioned.
“Do you like him, Alice?”
“No, James,” Miss Heathcote said; “to tell you the truth I do not like him at all. But my uncle is very fond of him, and so I keep my dislike to myself.”
“I am glad you don’t like him,” James said. “I took a dislike to him, I don’t know why; he was very kind and friendly, but I did not like him. I was afraid perhaps I was prejudiced, but if you don’t like him, I am sure I was right.”
“I am not infallible, you know, James,” Miss Heathcote said, half smiling; “but in this case I am pretty sure that my dislike is well founded.”
James thought for a time.
“I have heard the name of Bingham before, and I was trying to remember when. It has just struck me, a Mr. Maynard, whom Evan Holl is at work with, is under a Mr. Bingham, a contractor down in Yorkshire.”
“It is the same Mr. Bingham,” Alice said, quietly.
“Why, how can that be, Alice? Mr. Bingham is a cousin of Mr. Maynard, and in that case grandfather would be Maynard’s uncle too.”
“Yes, he is, James; but there has been a quarrel between them.”