"I saw him half-drunk the other day," said young Joyce. "He'd got a flag-basket with handbills in it over his shoulder."
"I thought the old fellow was dead," said Mr. Wace. "Hey! why, Jermyn," he went on merrily, as he turned round and saw the attorney entering; "you Radical! how dare you show yourself in this Tory house? Come, this is going a bit too far. We don't mind Old Harry managing our law for us—that's his proper business from time immemorial; but——"
"But—a—" said Jermyn, smiling, always ready to carry on a joke, to which his slow manner gave the piquancy of surprise, "if he meddles with politics he must be a Tory."
Jermyn was not afraid to show himself anywhere in Treby. He knew many people were not exactly fond of him, but a man can do without that, if he is prosperous. A provincial lawyer in those old-fashioned days was as independent of personal esteem as if he had been a Lord Chancellor.
There was a good-humored laugh at this upper end of the room as Jermyn seated himself at about an equal angle between Mr. Wace and Christian.
"We were talking about old Tommy Trounsem; you remember him? They say he's turned up again," said Mr. Wace.
"Ah?" said Jermyn, indifferently. "But—a—Wace—I'm very busy to-day—but I wanted to see you about that bit of land of yours at the corner of Pod's End. I've had a handsome offer for you—I'm not at liberty to say from whom—but an offer that ought to tempt you."
"It won't tempt me," said Mr. Wace, peremptorily, "if I've got a bit of land, I'll keep it. It's hard enough to get hereabouts."
"Then I'm to understand that you refuse all negotiation?" said Jermyn, who had ordered a glass of sherry, and was looking around slowly as he sipped it, till his eyes seemed to rest for the first time on Christian, though he had seen him at once on entering the room.
"Unless one of the confounded railways should come. But then I'll stand out and make 'em bleed for it."