"But why should the old lady be concerned about my having been down to Sussex?" John wanted to be told.
"Why, sir, she says of course then you must be one of the Sussex Tincrofts, begging your pardon for using mother's words."
"Oh! No harm in that; and as to that, I am one of the Sussex Tincrofts, the only one left," said John. "Did she say any more?" he asked, his interest growing stronger.
"Yes, sir. She asked your given name; and when I said it was John, she was rather put out, and said it ought to have been Josiah, or else Makepeace."
John Tincroft started from his chair, and then took what Barry afterwards described as "three skips and a jump to the window just like a flea." And as that useful personage was bedmaker by profession, there was less that was startling and odd in his simile. After looking out of the window, and making sure that the dome of the Radcliffe Library was in its proper place, he turned again to the half-alarmed scout, with a—
"Dear me, Barry! Why, my father's name was Josiah, and my grandfather's was Makepeace. And what came next?" he demanded, wildly.
"Why, sir, she said she nursed a little Josiah Tincroft when he was brought into the world, and Makepeace Tincroft was his father."
"Come with me, Barry; come with me this instant," shouted John, as, rushing to the scout and clutching his arm, he dragged him to the door. "You must go with me to my lawyer, Roundhand, you know, in St. Aldates."
"Yes, sir, yes, certainly, Mr. Tincroft; but won't you put on your cap and gown, sir?"
"Ah! Yes, yes," and John relinquished his hold.