[CHAPTER XXVIII.]
THE LAST OF THE HOLLY ARBOUR.
TOM GRIGSON was still staying at his brother's—yet not altogether there, for he and the younger Tom, his first-born, pretty equally divided their time between the Manor House and the Mumbles, where the elder Elliston continued to sway the sceptre—an old man now, but as sharp-witted and fond of having his own way as ever he had been.
It was the more to be wondered at that the active man of business, such as we have seen John's old friend had become, should have taken so long a holiday, seeing that there was neither hunting nor shooting to be indulged in at this particular time. To be sure, he had the pleasure of Tincroft's company; and his presence, in like manner, reconciled John to his prolonged absence from home.
But there was another reason—one closely connected with the future family arrangements of Mr. Tom Grigson—which made divers consultations at headquarters thought to be necessary—the headquarters in this case being Mumbleton on the one hand, and the Manor House on the other.
On the same day as that on which, so far-away, his Sarah and the young Helen were holding their confabulation under the beech tree, and on which, also, so much nearer to him, the brother and sister were talking together on their way to and in the holly arbour at High Beech, John Tincroft was invited by his friend Tom to take a drive with him over to the Mumbles. On this occasion John did not decline the invitation as he did a former one, some twenty years before. Accordingly the dog-cart was got out, and the gentlemen took their seats.
"I want a bit of a talk with you, John, and I want your advice as well," said Tom, when the vehicle was in motion.
But in order to prepare for this "bit of talk," some few words of explanation are necessary.