“Go? no, sir; decidedly not. Edgar refused to go, point-blank.”
Master Edgar was walking a little way in front, looking like a small edition of his father in a short jacket, for he imitated Sir James’s stride, put on his tall hat at the same angle, and carried his black cane with its two silken tassels in front of him, as a verger in church carries a wand.
“I wasn’t going,” said Master Edgar importantly. “I don’t want to know a boy like that.”
“What would you do under the circumstances?” said Sir James.
“Do?” said the Vicar; “why I should—I beg your pardon—will you excuse me? I am wanted.”
He pointed to a lady who was signalling to him with a parasol, and hurried off.
“How lucky!” he said to himself. “I don’t want to offend Sir James; but ’pon my word, knowing what I do of his young cub, I would rather have Grayson’s protégé on spec.”
“Where are we going for a walk, pa!” said Master Edgar importantly.
“Through the quarry there, and by the windmill, and back home.”
“No; I meant to go down by the river, pa, to see if there are any fish.”