“Ah! poor man. I’m sorry; but he’s very old, Joseph.”
“Not he. Young man yet,” said the Churchwarden, who was getting touchy on the score of age. “I don’t call a man old this side of a hundred. Look at the old chaps in the Bible, as Sammy Warmoth used to say.”
“Yes, Joseph, but they were great and good men.”
“Oh, were they?” said the Churchwarden. “I don’t know so much about that. Some of ’em were; but others did things that the Lawford people wouldn’t stand if I were to try ’em on.”
“But what is the matter with Michael Ross?”
“Break up. I went in to see him, and the old man got me to write a letter to Luke, asking him to come down and see him.”
“And did you, Joseph?”
“Did I? Why, of course I did. Do you suppose I’ve got iron bowels, woman, and no compassion in me at all?”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk such nonsense, Joseph,” said Mrs Portlock, sharply. “And do you think Luke Ross will come down?”
“Of course he will.”