"That depends. There's nothing settled yet. However, Mark seems to have jumped at that conclusion, for he began to abuse Matthew and all his family in very low language, declaring at last, in his own peculiar style, that he would rather see his girl in her coffin than that she should marry her cousin Walter."
"He is calculating on a better match for Sarah, perhaps," said Tom, laughing, and glancing slyly across the table at John Tincroft, who, during the conversation that had passed, had been wrapped, as it seemed, in a solemn, silent muse.
"So it almost appears," rejoined the elder brother, gravely, for the next question—"I don't know that I ought to speak of it, though."
"Oh, out with it, Dick," cried the younger brother; "don't keep all the fun to yourself, brother dear."
"It concerns you, Tincroft. Will you have it?"
"Oh yes, by all means," stammered clumsy John; "though what I can have to do with it—"
"Why, aren't you a friend of the family?" Tom wanted to know.
"I don't see why you should put that name upon me," said John, rather stiffly.
"Well, you are not an enemy, at any rate; are you, now?"
"Mr. Mark Wilson is so fond of you, as a friend, that he would like to have you in closer relationship," continued Mr. Grigson, seriously, and dropping the half jocular tone in which he had previously spoken. "And, to tell the truth, my dear fellow, I think it is only an act of friendship to put you on your guard. Your visits to High Beech have been looked upon with great interest, I assure you."