"Ah well, I have nothing to say against that, nor against having Walter's company. But we are relations, you know; and wife and I have been saying that we think it odd that you should fight shy of us."
"I am sorry, I am sure, Mr. Wilson, that you should think so of me. I only thought it would be more agreeable to you—"
"Yes, yes, no doubt. But I was going on to say that we should have been uncommon pleased if Sarah—that's Mrs. Tincroft, you know—had kept up knowledge of us, as one may say. She has never been near the old place since she left it, twenty years ago. There's no offence, sir, in minding you of it, I hope."
"O dear, none at all," said John, one of whose harmless peculiarities it was never to take offence if he could avoid it. "But there were circumstances, you know, sir, which would, perhaps, have made it a little awkward to my dear wife—" John said this with unction, and repeated it—"to my dear wife, in revisiting the scenes of her younger days."
"Possibly," said the old farmer; "but we ought to forget and forgive, you know, sir. And, for my part, I have long ago forgiven that five hundred pounds that brother Mark robbed me of, as one may say; for I never got a penny of it back. But I didn't come to speak about that, Mr. Tincroft, I most wanted to say to you, we are relations and friends, aren't we? And when I say friends, 'tis friends I mean," added Matthew, with a knowing nod.
"Truly I hope so, sir," said John, wondering whereunto all this preamble was to tend.
"And now," continued Farmer Matthew, in a lower tone, and looking round to make sure that the door was fast closed against hypothetical listeners, "I reckon Walter has told you all, hasn't he?"
"All what, Mr. Wilson?"
"All about himself, and whether he has come home empty-handed, or full. You understand."
"Excuse me, sir," said John, rather reservedly; "I should think that your son is more likely to have taken you than me into his confidence."