There was a general scrooping of chairs after this condensed grace, Sage hurrying off to put on her hat and jacket, and her aunt running after her to say, in a mysterious whispered confidence—
“Don’t you take any notice of uncle, my dear. He don’t mean half he says.”
“You’ll walk back with Sage, of course, Luke?” said the Churchwarden, quietly, as he drew his chair to the fire for his after-dinner pipe. “Well, my boy, I think you’re right about what you settled; but I suppose I had something to do with your altering your mind?”
“Yes, sir, I must own to that.”
“Well,” said the Churchwarden, thoughtfully, “I hope it’s for the best; I meant it to be. You’ll go back to London, then, soon?”
“Almost directly, sir, to begin working hard.”
“That’s right, my boy. I believe in work. Come over here whenever you are down at Lawford. I shall be very glad to see you, my lad, very.”
Then, pulling out his watch, he consulted it, and went on chatting for a few minutes as if to keep Luke from speaking about the subject near to his heart, but at last he broke in—“I need hardly say, sir, that I go meaning to work up to the point you named, and—”
“Yes, yes, yes, my lad; let that rest. Let’s see how things go. You’re both young,” he cried, pulling out his big silver watch once more. “I say, mother,” he shouted, “tell Sage that Luke’s waiting to walk back with her. She’ll be late for school.”
Then like a chill to Luke Ross came back Mrs Portlock’s voice—