“He hasn’t been down for a very long time now. I suppose he has grown to be such a great man that he is ashamed of poor old Lawford.”
“Who’s talking nonsense now?” cried the Churchwarden. “Nice temptation there is for him to come down here, isn’t there? Bless the lad, I wonder he even cares to set foot in the place again.”
“It would be unpleasant for him, I suppose, after all that has taken place. But you think he will come?”
“Sure to. I told him it was urgent, and that I’d drive over to Morbro and meet the train, so as to save him time. He’s a good man, is Luke Ross, as old Michael said with tears in his eyes to-day, and he wants to see him badly.”
“Poor old man!”
“Tchah! don’t call him old,” cried the Churchwarden. Then calming down after a whiff or two of his pipe, “Luke Ross will be down here to-morrow afternoon as sure as a gun. Eh? Why, Sage, my gal, I didn’t see you there.”
“Did—did I hear you aright, uncle?” she said, faintly. “Is old Mr Ross ill?”
“Very ill, my dear,” said the Churchwarden, sternly, “and Luke Ross is coming down to see him, I should say.”