“You think so?”
“Yes, sir: I’m sure of it.”
“And you want to take him back with you?”
“If you please, sir—now. I know the man so well, and I am certain that I can answer for there being no more trouble.”
“That’s speaking broadly, my boy,” said Mr Dillon, slapping Nic on the shoulder; “but comes tea—dinner’s ready, and we can continue our argument as we have it.”
Nic shook his head.
“I couldn’t eat, sir, with that poor fellow in such trouble,” he said.
“Well, that’s very kind and nice of you, my boy,” said Mr Dillon, “and I like you for it; but come now, let’s be reasonable. You see, I am the magistrate of this district, but I want to talk to you, not like a man of law, only as your father’s friend and neighbour.”
“Yes, I felt that you would, sir,” said Nic, who was encouraged.
“Your father has, I suppose, left you in charge of his station?”